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Keeping Franco’s neck in the stranglehold of my elbow and using his body as a human shield, I pointed my gun at Dead Man Number One’s crotch.
“I’ll blow your dick off and then shove it down your throat.”
“Shoot him!” Franco threw an elbow back, but that was the other lovely benefit of this custom vest; it absorbed the energy of the blow, so I barely felt it.
The men exchanged glances before having the smarts to slowly lay down their rifles.
“Now move over there,” I said, pointing to a space far away from their guns but close enough to me where I still could—and would—end their lives.
CHAPTER60
Luna
The Windy City Vigilante pistol-whipped each man until they were incapacitated enough for his liking, I suppose. Franco took the worst of it, now groaning on the floor, half conscious. The Vigilante looked down at the moaning piles of garbage before eventually walking over and squatting in front of me.
He kept his masked face at an angle where he kept eyes on the enemies should they be stupid enough to make a move.
“Are you okay?” He brought his hand up to my cheek.
With my voice trapped beneath a rock of fear and shock, all I was able to do was nod.
One of my assailants jumped up to his feet and started running. The Vigilante twisted slightly, so calm and steady with his movements that his demeanor alone had to be terrifying to them.
The Vigilante raised his weapon and shot with ease—nailing a bullet in the guy’s calf.
The guy screamed as he went down on his belly and began to army crawl.
But the Vigilante’s posture seemed completely unalarmed by it. It was like he knew he had complete control over the situation and that none of them would escape his wrath.
That’s when he appeared to notice the array of torture instruments nearby—his lips tightening to bare his teeth. It took him a moment to snap out of what seemed to be a debilitating case of rage before he moved behind me and trailed his finger down my hand.
“Who taped your wrists?” His voice was so cool, it was chilling.
I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but the entire scene seemed to be on pause until I answered his question. He wasn’t moving, and the men were staring at us, one still army-crawling away.
“I don’t know who taped me up the first time, but the second time—”
“What do you mean, thefirsttime?” the Vigilante asked, a glint of rage pulsing through his words as he moved in front of me.
“When I woke up here, I was already taped up. I managed to cut through the tape and attempted to escape but…”
It didn’t work.
“They dragged you back in.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Who taped you the second time?”
Unsure what else to do, I nodded my chin toward the man army-crawling away.
The Vigilante walked over to the blanket and looked over the torture devices like a kid salivating over the different flavors of ice cream offered, trying to decide which one he wanted most. He chose the axe.
And then he began walking toward the man. Slowly.
The incandescent glow of the lighting behind the Vigilante cast his strong form into a looming silhouette and glistened off the axe’s metal blade as he dragged it along the floor behind him.
