Page 94 of Depraved

I looked over to where Ink was standing. His face was covered in blood, his eyes wide and unsatisfied. It was safe to assume he wasn’t experiencing these moments of calm. Quiet. The demon raging in him was too strong to be sated by blood and death. It wanted more. It wanted annihilation, war, total chaos.

I tossed my cigarette in a pool of blood, picked up the severed finger, and placed it in the zip-lock bag I brought along specially for it. Slither would receive yet another package with this little surprise in it. Symbolic for the finger he cut off Neon’s hand. Fucker wanted a finger, well, Ink and I would send him several.

Taking a seat across from the hanging corpse, I brushed my fingers up and down my beard. “You don’t blame me. Why?”

Ink didn’t look at me. He was too busy taking mental pictures of the mutilated body and the Python torn into shreds. “I don’t blame you. I blame them.” He nodded toward the corpses.

“It’s because of me⁠—”

“It’s because of you and your father that I’m still breathing today. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

I placed my elbows on my knees and leaned forward. “Even after what happened.”

“Nah, dude.” He crouched while holding the knife in his hand. “You did what you had to do. You had no other choice, and I respect that. I’m not blaming anyone other than these motherfuckers. Besides,” he leaned his head back against the wall, “you’ve been beating yourself up enough. You don’t need me or anyone else to make it worse.”

I snorted. “You’re just being nice because I’m helping you sate that bloodlust of yours. I’m the Robin to your fucking Batman.”

Ink let out a half attempt at a laugh. “Dude, I won’t lie. It feels good slicing my blade across these fuckers’ throats, hearing them gargle and choke on their own fucking blood. But you and I both know you need this just as much as I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He eyed me pointedly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be keeping this a secret from the rest of the club. You’re afraid they won’t agree and end up forcing us to stop by voting against it at church. Especially Dutch.”

I shrugged. “True. But something tells me we won’t get any shit from the others by doing this. Everyone is hurt because of what happened. Not just us.”

Ink got up and placed his knife back in his pocket. “Tell them, then. Tell the rest what we’ve been doing the last few nights, and that we’ve buried five Pythons already. Just remember, you’re the president. I’m not. No matter what they vote, I’m not stopping until my blade is jammed in Slither’s spine. I won’t stop, Granite. Even if it means costing me my seat at the goddamn table.”

I got up and walked over, not in the least bothered by the fact that I was stepping in a dead man’s blood. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I swear to you that Slither will burn in hell for what he did. And nothing or no one will take your place at the Kings table. You got it?”

Ink’s lips were pulled in a straight line, and up close it seemed like he had aged years over the last few days. “I want to be the one who does it.”

“Does what?”

“I want to be the one who sends that motherfucker to hell. Me. Can you promise me that?” The determination in his eyes, and the way his face remained stone as he stared at me, told me there was only one thing that would ultimately make him able to breathe again. It was the same thing that had been paving this path we had been on for years.

Revenge.

At that moment, there wasn’t anything I wanted more than to be the one who drove a knife through that bastard’s black heart. But Ink needed it more than I did, and my guys were more important to me than my need to spill blood.

“You have my word.”

He slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, bro. Just,” he scrunched his nose, “let’s not ever talk about my place in the club like it’s some fucking King Arthur movie, okay? Good God,” he brushed past me, “referring to it as my place at the table sounds all kinds of wrong.”

I let out a laugh. “You started it.”

“Yeah, well…I make it sound cool. You just fucked it up when you said it.”

“Good to know you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

He glanced over his shoulder with a cocked brow. “Sense of humor? Dude, I could not be more serious right now.”

I smirked. One thing was for sure—our club would not be the same without this man.

“Yo, Ink.”

“Yeah?” He turned to face me.

“I’ll make this right for her. For Neon.”

He nodded. “Nah, man. You got it wrong. We’ll make it right for her.” With that, he left. I stayed behind, listening as he made the call to send a clean-up crew.

I glanced down at my hands, blood stuck in the corners of my nails. Like every one of these fuckers we tortured and killed, I had Neon’s blood on my hands as well. And in some poetic way, Alyx’s too.