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I grip Yanni’s shoulders to pull him toward me, and at the same time, knee him in the groin. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” I sneer close to his ear. “And the best part? I’m only getting started.”
I shove Yanni to the floor and look at Malachi. “Do your worst.”
Malachi claps his hands together like a giddy child. I move to stand by the wall so I can watch. Yanni scrambles to his knees and tries to crawl away from my cousin, playing his part perfectly.
Malachi kicks Yanni in the gut, and his arms give out. While he’s laid out on the floor, Mal kicks him over and over. The sound of bone cracking reminds me of when Harlow fractured Peppermint’s cheek, and my anger burns that much hotter.
“Don’t kill him,” I warn.
Malachi bends down and grabs Yanni by his shirt to lift him up a little. “I won’t. But he’ll wish I had, won’t he?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Malachi reaches behind his back to grab his gun and presses the barrel to Yanni’s forehead. “Tell me, old man. Why does my cousin want you dead more than he wants air to breathe?”
Yanni’s eyes dart to me. “I-I don’t know.”
“Really, Yanni?” I narrow my eyes. “I think you do. Go ahead, it’s okay. Tell him. Tell Malachi what he wants to know.”
Yanni vehemently shakes his head. “He’s crazy, Malachi. Blames me for being sent away. I swear, that’s all. I didn’t do anything.”
Malachi laughs. “I’m not buying it.”
“I’m not selling anything!” Yanni shouts. “I swe—”
“Take him to the bedroom,” I demand. “It’s my turn.”
Malachi doesn’t hesitate. He stands with Yanni in his grip and drags him to the only bedroom in the place. Yanni pleads with him to stop, to let him go, but Malachi ignores every word.
I open my bag and take out what I need, then follow. “Face down on the bed,” I say when I enter the room.
Malachi throws Yanni to the mattress and, with a knee in his back, holds him still while I tie rope around his wrists and ankles, anchoring him to the metal bed frame. When Yanni is spread eagle and secure, Malachi backs up to the wall and lets me do my thing.
I drop the whip I brought to the floor and tighten my grip on the sledgehammer. I swing the tool at the wall, reveling in the way Yanni jerks against his restraints when the plaster gives way.
Laughter fills the room, maniacal and dark, drowning out Yanni’s desperate pleas for his life. I don’t even realize the laughter belongs to me until I open my mouth to speak.
“This is gonna hurt,” I taunt a split second before I shove the handle up his ass.
Yanni screams like a little bitch. I pull the handle out, twisting and turning it, and shove it back in. Blood coats the splintering wood, but still, I don’t stop.
“This is for every motel room, every forced shower, every second of pain you caused me, every goddamn night I was trapped in hell with you.” I shove it in one last time, all the way until the metal head of the sledgehammer rests against his ass cheeks. “That, you sick son of a bitch, is for Peppermint.”
Leaving the hammer in place, I turn to get my whip, and Malachi’s face catches my attention. He’s staring at me, eyes wide, jaw dropped.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Fuck, Nico. I didn’t know.”
I see things have clicked into place for him. “No one did.”
We stare at one another for a moment, both of us trying to process the past and the present. I have one more secret, and it’s time it was brought out into the light. I yank my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor.
I grab my whip and secure it in my grasp before turning back to face Yanni. I’m not surprised by the sharp intake of breath behind me. My scars are a lot for anyone to take in.
“Do you remember what else you would do to me, Yanni?” I ask in as I step next to the bed. “Do you remember all the times you made me bleed, saying it would turn me into a man?”
Yanni doesn’t say a word. For a split second, I wonder if he passed out, but then he starts begging again. Begging for a life he doesn’t have a right to, for a soul that has no hope of being saved.
