Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Walking in front of him, I look into his wide eyes. “Good morning, Luke. Glad you could join us.”
He looks around the best he can, body fighting the cuffs but there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s here because this is where I want him. Otherwise, he’d be dead and buried in the cemetery behind the Cathedral. I reach out and tug on the barbed wire that I wrapped around him, making sure it went between his busted lips.
Sin gets closer to Luke’s face and frowns. “What happened to his mouth?”
“Tyson yanked his teeth out,” Ryat answers.
“Oh, man.” Sin laughs darkly. “You must have really fucked up.”
I step into Luke, gripping his chin, not caring if I cut myself on the barbed wire, and say, “I’m going to wrap your entire body in this shit, and then we’re going to watch you squirm and fight while you cut yourself open. Just like you did to all those women.”
Who knows how many will never be found. Or how many he sold that wish death would come. It makes me physically sick to think of where my wife would be right now if she wasn’t upstairs, naked in a bed, waiting on me. What he would have done to her. Or allowed to be done to her by others. And the fact that she’s carrying my children, I want to shoot this fucking bastard between the eyes, but that would be too quick of a death. Not enough pain. I want to see him bleeding, sobbing like the bitch he is, begging for his death. I’ve prided myself on being a patient man, now is the time to be one.
I swing, my fisted hand hitting his face, making his body sway in the chains. My hand instantly stings but it feels good. I do it again. His body jerks while it hangs from the ceiling. Spit and blood fly from his mouth, and he makes gurgling noises, unable to speak. The barbed wire not only splits my hand but his face as well.
“Ty—”
I hit Luke in the ribs this time, cutting off Ryat. I don’t want a voice of reason right now; I want to fucking kill him. I hit him again in the stomach and he doubles over the best he can. Blood is flying, my hands slippery and burning. The skin splits more and more every time I make contact, but that’s not going to stop me.
I hit him again, and again. I’m panting, body vibrating with fucking adrenaline. He touched her, hurt her, planned on selling her. That deserves fucking violence.
Heart pounding and gasping for breath, I step back, and my bloody hands drop to my sides as I watch his body convulse, his chest heaving and openly sobbing. Walking over to the counter, I ignore the look that Ryat and Sin give one another, wondering if I’ve lost my mind.
I haven’t. My head is clear. I know what I have to do. And when I’m done, I’m going to go crawl in bed with my wife and remind her that I will do whatever needs to be done in order to protect her.
Grabbing the roll of barbed wire, I grab the end and let it unravel as I walk back over to him. He shakes his head the best he can, and I smile. I’m going to decorate him like a Christmas tree and then watch him squirm, cutting himself open. It won’t kill him. It’s not razor wire. It’s going to dig into his skin, but not cut him open. It’s going to hurt like a bitch and make him wish he was dead.
LAIKYN
I’m walking the halls looking for a fucking place to eat. I know there’s a kitchen around here somewhere because Tyson brought me food when I was in the hospital room. It was good, too. But we’re in a different building now. Carnage is a fucking city all on its own.
Turning a corner, I jump and let out a scream when I run into someone. “I’m so sorry,” I rush out when I see its Saint. My eyes drop to the snake tattoos that wrap around his neck, and I rub mine. Just the thought of them makes it hard to breathe as if they’re tightening, cutting off his air.
“Lost?” he questions.
“I’m, uh … hungry.” I stumble over my words. There were stories that I heard about the Spade brothers over the years. They are what nightmares are made of.
I’ve always believed evil walks the earth, and they are the devil, times three. Just because I know Tyson trusts them doesn’t mean they don’t scare me. I feel sorry for Ashtyn if she really is alive, and they find her. Hell would be better than Carnage.
“Fourth floor,” he states, and then walks past me. He doesn’t bother to show me the way, as if he doesn’t have an extra second of his time to give me.