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What was it about her that made me…wanther so fucking badly?
The innocence that clearly surrounded her? The fact she was a survivor like I was?
She was beautiful, but beautiful things constantly surrounded me, so her outside appearance wasn’t the beacon that drew me in.
It was just…her.
I curled my hands into fists again and relaxed them. I did this repeatedly until I felt that rage in me level out so I could think more clearly.
There was this demon within me, one who wanted blood and violence and revenge.
And I was going to give the fucker a bloodbath.
* * *
An hour later,I leaned against the wall in a back room ofButcher and Sons,staring at Derek and Logan strung up from a metal beam that ran across the ceiling.
It had been easy enough finding where the two scumbags had been. Even if I didn’t run half this fucking town, Derek and Logan always frequented the same hole-in-the wall and cum-stained floor establishments in Desolation.
Luca and another one of my soldiers had already given the two fuckers a beating. Their blood dripped onto the stained concrete floor. Bruises littered their faces, arms, and chests.
Derek, her father, looked worse for wear out of the two. When I first came into the room, I thought the bastard was dead.
Both had their arms above their heads, a piece of rope secured around their wrists. Logan was passed out, but Derek was mumbling, pleading in between taking gurgling, wet-sounding breaths.
Luca and my other soldier were off to the side, waiting for instructions from me.
I unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled the dark material of my dress shirt up my forearms. I’d taken off my suit jacket and tie when they’d first arrived, the clothing slung over the worktable that held an assortment of torture implements.
I walked over to the rusted table pushed against the far wall and bent down to grab the bucket on the ground beside it that held murky water that was probably a mix of bodily fluids, if I were being honest.
Once I had it in hand, I went over to Logan and didn’t wait another second to toss that shit on his face to wake his ass up.
Derek tried to lean away from the spray of fermented water just as Logan sputtered awake.
I cursed at the foul-smelling liquid and took a step back.
“Fuck, Luca,” I snapped. “Did you piss in this bucket?”
Luca grunted and tipped his head toward Milo, showing it was the other man who’d done that.
“Drink more water, fucker,” I gritted out to Milo. The crazy bastard just grinned and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.
“Got some discards from the butcher shop in town. Threw it in there for good measure.” Milo said.
If I had a weak stomach, that might have made me lose my lunch, but I chuckled and said, “Well played.”
I went back over to the table and ran my fingers over the various instruments of torture I’d be using on these assholes.
I picked up a pair of brass knuckles, slipped them on, and moved back to the two fuckheads.
“You know why I brought you here?” I asked Derek as I stared at the brass covering my knuckles. He said nothing coherently. I glanced up and cocked an eyebrow.
Derek opened his mouth, sputtering a few times before he found his voice. “I know we owe you money, and I swear we’ll get it to you. We’ve just been trying to win it back—”
I held up my hand, stopping him from running his mouth.
“That's not why I brought you here today.” And it wasn’t, really. I didn’t miss how Luca’s brows pulled down slightly in confusion or how Milo cocked his head to the side in curiosity.
