Those footsteps hold significance somehow, and the closer they get, the more I believe that.
Niko shifts in my arms, turning his face toward my stomach before he whimpers then takes a deep breath. He turns toward the dogs as he takes another, becoming as restless as I’m starting to feel despite both of us being on the brink of collapse.
The men around us are silent. Silent and full of confusion and fear as a hooded figure slowly emerges from the dark, demanding submission and surrender with his presence alone.
He is huge.
Well over six and a half feet tall. Light on his feet for someone who has to be close to three hundred pounds. He moves with purpose, with an unwavering dominance. He’s dressed in all black, very little of him showing from under the hood, and between that and how random his entrance is, it makes him look like death incarnate.
The Grim Reaper.
A demon sent from the pits of hell.
One that smells like wild orchids and something dark and spicy.
“Who the fuck are you?” The bald guy raises his gun from the doberman to aim it at the mysterious man. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t do anything but stop behind the dogs and stand there like some ominous brick shithouse.
“You aren’t taking them if that’s what you’re here for. That reward money is mine.” The leader nods to me and Niko as he steps in front of us. “I earned it.”
Still nothing.
The man isn’t even acknowledging whether or not he can hear him.
He can, I’m almost certain of that, but you wouldn’t know it and this man clearly does not give one single fuck to confirm or deny.
“Say something,” the bald asshole hisses. “Say something, you stupid son of a bitch.”
That’swhen he finally does.
“Charon.”
The strange word rumbles through his chest, a low growl filled with rage and hate as it spills from his lips. And it’s that one word that unleashes the hell he brought with him.
Before they know what hit them, all three dogs attack the men in front of us, moving like lightning through the spotlight, lunging at anyone within range.
The doberman goes right for the bald guy, its teeth sinking into his inner thigh, biting repeatedly until the femoral artery explodes between its jaws, the blood spraying through the hole in his pants as he screams in pain. The other two dogs follow suit, tearing into vital parts of the men standing around us, hunks of flesh and muscle landing on the cement floor, blood streaking and splattering against it while they continue attacking one after another as their handler steps under the light.
Gunshots ring out as his dogs unleash total carnage, and that’s when this man joins them.
He raises his right hand to reveal his own weapon, firing quick rounds from his SIG and taking down several of our captors with single shots in the head or chest. No hesitation. He doesn’t waver. The mysterious man just points and shoots, the men dropping like flies each time.
I hold Niko tighter as I watch the man walk through the space, firing until his gun is empty then tossing it aside before he produces two hunting knives from inside his sleeves. I had no idea that many men had taken us, that the group was this big but it’s like they’re crawling out of the woodwork, rushing at the beast who’s decreasing their numbers faster than I can fully comprehend.
He sends both knives sailing through the air in different directions, but they each find their new home in eye sockets of different targets, the precision beyond deadly and scary accurate for someone who wasn’t even looking. He steps over us as he keeps advancing on them, grabbing the guy to my right and literally throwing him across the room, not flinching or slowing down as he takes two bullets to the bicep. He turns on the onewho shot him, grabbing him by the throat before dragging him toward the area where Niko was kept. The beast of a man takes his gun and uses it on anyone in his path then he crushes the windpipe of the man in his hand and drops him, his sights now set on the bastard who assaulted both me and my sweet mate.
He whistles low and his dogs kick it up a notch, working together to literally rip apart anyone left. Their screams echo off the walls, filling the room as the biggest of the dogs grabs an ankle while the others grab wrists, shaking and tugging, tearing until bones pop and blood spurts from the joints they’re chewing through.
“No, no please!”
My eyes shift to the mystery man as he straps the asshole to the cross face down, his back facing us while the ropes tighten to the point of ripping skin and drawing blood. The beast says nothing as he works, stripping the man of his pants even after his legs are tied down. He moves to the small fire pit, the one this group wheeled out to heat the iron they used on Niko, and he drags it over to the cross with a threatening, high pitched screech. The beast grabs the poker used on my sweet mate’s back and sticks it in the flames, turning it slowly until the end is glowing bright orange all while staring silently at his next victim.
The man strapped down starts to cry as he tries in vain to see what the hulking man is doing, craning his neck as he begs for his life, but he doesn’t have to do either of those things. He’s going to find out soon enough.
The beast flattens his free hand against the middle of the man’s back, pushing so hard the cross breaks, forcing the bastard to bend just below the waist in a way that isn’t natural and causes a sickening pop to ring out around us, and without so much as a grunt, he takes that hot poker and rams it up the man’s ass in one steady movement.
He screams briefly, the sound cut short as the iron disappears almost all the way to the handle, blood and smoke pouring from his body as pieces of his skin and muscles start to sizzle.
