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Stephen begins to whistle as he moves toward the fucker. Sean takes a step back, almost stumbling backward. “No,” he mutters angrily. “No.”
Stephen laughs. The fucker is psychotic. “You don’t get to say no. It’s happening whether or not you like it.” He reaches for him and lifts him into the air as though he weighs nothing more than a bag of flour, then carries him outside.
“Gentlemen,” Maverick smirks, “you’re about to get up close and personal with how The Eraser works.”
I follow them outside and listen to the screams of Sean Kelly. Stephen isn’t fazed by it. In fact, he walks over to a woodchipper and starts it up. The whirring sound of it adds to the eeriness of the night.
“No!” Sean cries. If his face wasn’t covered in blood, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was crying.
The woodchipper’s blades rotate as Stephen edges closer with Sean in his arms.
“You ready?” Denis asks with glee.
“Ready for what?” Preach questions with a furrow between his brow.
“This,” Butch says as he slaps me on my back. “It’s going to be fucking glorious.”
Stephen drops Sean into the woodchipper, and I notice that the ground is covered in plastic sheeting. I stare, fascinated, as Sean tries to claw his way out of the machine, but it’s no use. His arm gets caught, and it’s over.
Christ. Never, not once, did I ever consider killing someone this way.
Sean’s screams reverberate off the metal blades, something that would chill anyone to the bone. He turns like a leaf blowing in the wind as the machine chews his body and pulls it toward the blade. His biceps are ripped off and within seconds pulled between the metal blades.
Sean’s screams turn from petrified to ones filled with pain and horror as the woodchipper’s blades cut deeply into his torso, hips, and legs. Soon, the screams stop, and the only sound that can be heard is that of the rotating wood chipper as it continues to churn the remains of Sean’s body.
The machine sucks up his remains and spits them out in a pile next to my feet.
Fucking A. That’s the most savage way to kill someone, and something I can take with me back to the States.
“It’s done,” Denis says, and I’m wondering how often this occurs.
“Ace, Pyro, you got time to make a pit stop?” Butch questions.
Ace nods. Now I’m curious as to what the fuck is going on.
“Meet me at the clubhouse. Denis will show you the way,” he says as he climbs onto his bike.
“Let’s head back to the city. Once we’re there, all your questions will be answered,” Denis assures us.
I glance at Ace, who nods, indicating it’s all good. I just wish I weren’t in the dark about this shit. I fucking hate not knowing what’s about to happen.
* * *
An hour later,Ace, Denis and I are walking into the Devil Falcon’s clubhouse. Unlike the Fury Vipers, it’s not secluded. In fact, it’s in the middle of the street, and the brothers bikes are parked out front. Walking in, it’s as though they were all expecting us. We’re greeted with chin lifts, slight nods, or with drinks raised. That’s definitely not what I was expecting.
Butch is waiting for us in his office, and I have this gut feeling that something’s going on. That this isn’t just any ordinary chit-chat. I’m pissed that Ace seems to know what it’s about and hasn’t given me a heads up.
“Ah good, you’re here,” Butch says when we enter his office. “We want you to know that we appreciate what you have done for our family.”
“We did it for Pyro’s woman,” Ace tells him.
“That may be so, but his woman is my niece. Which means we owe you. You ever need us, we’re there. All of us.”
Denis nods. “He’s right. Whatever you need, Ace, we’re there.”
Ace gives a chin lift. “We appreciate that, but there’s no need.”
“It’s done,” Butch says. “Which brings us to the main reason I wanted you here.”
