AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But then he says something that breathes new strength into me. “Of course you’re scared. But you, little one, are a warrior. And warriors don’t escape fear, they conquer it.”
Chapter
One
KERES
Twelve years later
Blood trickles down his face from the gash above his eye and mingles with his snot and tears as he makes another pathetic attempt at begging for his life.
The chains securing his wrists to the ceiling rattle with each violent tremor that wracks his naked body. His pasty, mottled flesh is covered in burn marks and welts sliced into his skin by my knife, and it makes me sick to look at him. Evil disgusting pig.
Anger surges inside me, and I kick him in the balls, causing him to retch.
I hold my knife up in front of his face. “I’ll ask you one more time, Oscar, and then I start hacking off body parts. Who is your partner?”
“I don’t do it anymore, I t-told y-you. Please.”
Taking hold of his flaccid dick, I suppress a shudder at having to touch him and hold my blade against the base. He screams at me to stop, but I’m not feeling even the slightest bit merciful. Not given who this man is and what he’s responsible for. He deserves worse than what’s in store for him for what he did to me and my mom. To Phoenix and all the other women and children whose names we’ll never know.
“Salvatore Moretti!” he screams.
I snort. “Yeah, I know about him and the Santangelos. They’re all dead, Oscar. I’m talking about your partner. The one who coordinated the whole operation with you.”
He shakes his head and snot flies from his nose. God, he’s pathetic. “P-please d-don’t. Don’t do this.”
His whiny voice fills me with revulsion, and I slice off his cock with one flick of my wrist. His screams of agony fill the room. “Shut the fuck up!” I rage at him, stuffing the bloody appendage into his mouth to muffle his cries.
“Did you listen to any one of the hundreds of women and children who begged for mercy, you disgusting fuck?”
He gags on the flesh in his mouth, and I roll my eyes. “Never had a cock forcefully stuffed into your mouth before, Oscar?” I laugh. “At least it isn’t big enough to make you choke. How does it feel to meet my good friend karma?”
Tears stream down his face, and his begging eyes take over where his voice left off. It doesn’t matter how big and bad they think they are, they all look at me with that same desperate look before I claim their lives.
“Give me a name and I won’t slice anything else off.” Now that I have relief from his pissing and moaning, my rage has calmed. My tone is almost soothing. “I’ll slit your throat and let you die quickly, and that, Mr. Lang, is the only mercy you’re going to get from me.”
The muscles in his throat spasm and his body lurches, and before I realize what’s happening, his eyes roll back in his head. With an annoyed grunt, I yank the bloody lump of flesh out of his mouth, but it’s too late. His body twitches and then he’s still.
I slap his face. “Oscar!”
Nothing.
Dammit, the stupid fuck went and had a heart attack on me. Pathetic. I endured worse torture at eleven.
After I’m finished removing every trace of my presence, I climb onto my bike and haul ass away from the Lang house without looking back. He had enough enemies to keep the cops busy guessing who killed him. They’ll never suspect the volunteer worker who lives in Toledo.
The roar of my engine makes me smile, and the familiar throb of the machine soothes me. It almost makes me forget about my fuck-up with Oscar. I shouldn’t have taken that risk. Not after spending the past four years trying to track him down. And after all that time, it turned out the fucker lived only an hour from the place Phoenix and I made our home. A home that should have kept her safe from the nightmares that plague her every night.
I should have started with a finger or a toe instead of his cock. Now I have no option but to speed up the next part of my plan and head to Chicago. My skin bristles with untapped rage. This day has been coming for over twelve years. Time to face my demons. Time to take down the Morettis.
“You’re late, Keres,” Father Mike says, rolling his eyes as I walk into the rec room at the back of his church, which runs a subsidized after-school care. I help out as much as I can, and I never miss arts and crafts on Thursdays. A bunch of the kids and I have been working on painting a mural, and they’re so excited to finish it.
School hasn’t let out yet, but he likes me to be here a half hour before the kids so I can help set up. “Sorry, Father. I had some things to take care of.” I glance at my hand. Even after scrubbing them in the shower for a solid five minutes, I can still feel the blood under my nails. Like Lady Macbeth.
He eyes me suspiciously, and I resist the urge to fidget under his steely gaze. Instead I walk across the room and bump my shoulder against his. “You know I’d never let the kids down.”
His expression softens. “I know. I just worry about you.”
