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Shuddering, Paige presses into me. “What did he do?” She whispers.
Flashes of the information I dug up in my research fill my mind. Gritting my teeth, I exhale heavily as I attempt to keep my emotions in check. “He sold his daughter so he could get a fix.” I growl, fury boiling my blood. Paige gasps and lifts a shaky hand to her mouth, eyes wide in horror. “She was only 11 when he started this. I also discovered he has continued to do so. She’s 16 now.” My arms tighten as the demand for payment in blood for his actions surges through me.
Old memories try to push through as I’m reminded of another drug addict who sold someone’s body for his own benefit. I close my eyes and try to fight against the images.
My mother crying after her body was brutally used by some bastard. My father shaking hands with various men, exchanging money or drugs between their clasped hands. My bruised face staring in the reflection as I yet again failed to stop it from happening. My mother’s crumpled body lying at the feet of my father. My father’s butchered face as I finally enacted my revenge years later.
Paige shifts in my arms, bringing me back to the room. Her eyes slide closed as she breathes through her nose. After a few deep breaths, she opens her eyes and the rage I feel inside is reflected back in those liquid caramel orbs. Turning sharply, Paige drops the crowbar she had originally chosen and snatches up the machete. Staring at me with fiery determination, she speaks, her voice low. “Wake him up.”
A wicked grin spreads across my face as I reach for the smelling salts.
Chapter 22
Paige
Hatred. Burning, hot rage. My body fills with the liquid molten lava of pure fury coursing through my veins.
A child, his fucking child! This man is going to scream. He’s going to beg.
A small part of me is whispering that this isn’t me, that once I do this, there’s no turning back. I beat that part back. I didn’t feel like I had a choice before, but now? Now I am choosing this, and I’m going to make it hurt.
Mick strides over to the vile man and passes the salts under his nose. He jerks and looks around, confusion changing to fear as he sees Mick glaring down at him. “Hello Nicholas.” Mick spits at him. The man, Nicholas, shrinks away from the venom in his voice.
“Whe-where am I?” Shaking his head, Mick clucks his tongue but doesn’t answer the question. Growing angry at being ignored, Nicholas’ voice raises with each word. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
Mick sighs and rubs his jaw, looking over the man. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“W-what?” He sputters.
Another sigh. “You shouldn’t be asking who I am. Your real concern is my girl over there.” Mick gestures in my direction and Nicholas’ eyes finally slide over to me, widening when he notices the machete in my hands. I bare my teeth at him and Mick chuckles. “Magnificent, isn’t she?” He claps Nicholas’ cheek then turns around and strides back to me, drawing me in for a kiss that leaves me breathless. When he pulls back, he runs a finger along my chin, desire burning in his eyes. “All yours, baby.”
With that, Mick steps around me and leans back against the table, crossing his ankles. I take a couple steadying breaths, fingers flexing on the handle.
Now or never.
I go to take a step forward but my legs are shaking too much and I stumble. I quickly catch my balance but Nicholas barks a laugh. Leveling him with a glare, I’m about to tell him to go to hell when movement catches my eye.
In a few long strides, Mick is suddenly in front of him again. His hand wrapping around the man’s throat, Mick leans forward and growls in his face. “Did you just laugh at my woman?” Nicholas lets out a little whimper but Mick doesn’t wait for a response as he pulls back his other hand and snaps it forward.
I flinch at the sound of bone crunching and Nicholas lets out a blood curdling scream. He’s begging but it falls on deaf ears as Mick pummels his face, hitting him again and again. I watch, frozen in place. It’s like witnessing a wild animal. There’s no thought to his attack, just action as he punches. Mick continues his throws long after Nicholas has fallen silent. It’s not until the sound of the machete hitting the ground reaches his ears that he stops.
Freezing, he slowly turns toward me and I let out a cry at the sight. Blood has splattered over Mick’s face, his knuckles are busted open and his chest rises and falls heavily as he pants. Behind him, I see Nicholas’ face, or what’s left of it. Blood pours down and drips onto the floor, his nose is caved in along with half his jaw. One eye has burst several vessels and the once white sclera is now bright red. His eyebrow is swollen and several gashes litter the skin, having broken from the impact of Mick’s fist.
I stumble back a step and look back to Mick, eyes wide in horror. It’s not just the gruesome sight before me that has me falling apart, it’s the reality that I was only moments away from doing something just as violent to the man.
I blink as my vision blurs and find my lungs can’t fill with air. Raising a hand to my chest, I hunch forward and desperately try to suck in the much needed oxygen. My body shakes violently and tears splash on the ground below me. My stomach rolls and I start gagging, causing my already blurred vision to swim as I grow more lightheaded. Spinning around, I dart to the wall and lean against it heavily, bracing myself with my hands as I vomit.
I feel gentle hands pull my braid back and wipe the sweat from my forehead as I heave. My throat burns from the stomach acid rising. Tremors rack my body as it tries to purge this sickness from me. Salty tears mix with the flavor of vomit. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and shuffle away, bracing against the wall and sliding to the ground.
My body has revolted against me, forcing me to attempt to remove the darkness in any way necessary. The problem is, it’s not a physical evil that needs to be expelled, it’s me.
My mind, my soul, has been tainted and all I can think of is that if Mick hadn’t already killed Nicholas, I would pick up the weapon I dropped and do it myself.
After my exorcist worthy reaction, Mick left and came back with a rag, cleaning up my face and hand. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and knuckles, then stood and cleaned up the rest of the mess.
I watched with unseeing eyes as he lowered the chains and Nicholas’ body crumpled to the floor. Mick proceeded to meticulously remove every tooth and burn off the pads of each of his fingers and toes. He disappeared again and returned with a large tarp, proceeding to wrap the corpse up before hauling it out of the building. When he returned, he grabbed a hose I hadn’t noticed before and sprayed down the blood and vomit on the floor, pushing it to the drain in the middle of the room.
After a few more minutes spent rearranging the items on the table to their spots along the back walls, Mick slowly approaches me, palms up. I stare at him, unblinking, as he grows closer. “Paige, baby.” He softly says as he kneels in front of me. I don’t react, continuing to stare, my entire body numb. He stretches out both arms and cradles my face in his hands. “Are you okay, little bird?”
