Kick his ass, Jo-love! That’s what I really want to say, but I have my orders, and I need to keep my mouth shut until it’s my turn.
The crowd roars with glee, stomping the metal bleachers with anticipation. This type of crowd wants blood, they want torment, they want pain. They give over a hefty dollar amount, and it’s only right that they get a show.
Reaper comes on stage next, followed by Braveheart, and the cocky smile is wiped from Brody’s face.
Maximo takes the microphone again. “Everyone here, you know Brody. One of the managers who takes your money. He’s been naughty, skimming cash from the top and stealing from me. Not only that, but he took advantage of poor Jo. Drugged her. Raped her. And left her to be forgotten,” Maximo tsks, and Jo squeezes her eyes shut with embarrassment as her dirty laundry is aired out for entertainment.
“Fuck you. I’m not going to let you embarrass her,” I try to pull free from Tongue, and he holds his knife to my neck.
“Move an inch, and see what happens,” Tongue warns.
The crowd boos Brody and throws bottles at the cages.
“Kill him!”
“Feast on his flesh!”
“Skin him!”
“Have her do it!”
The crowd yells over one another, and when Brody tries to make a run for it, Tool is in the doorway, blocking him.
“You see, Brody. She was under the protection of the Ruthless Kings, and they’re here, not only for payback, but for the hit you called on them.” Maximo drops the microphone, leaving it to swing in the air.
Reaper grabs Brody behind the back of his neck with one hand then grabs the microphone in the other, the silver speaker glittering in the yellow light of the illegal arena. “Swallow it,” his deep voice beckons across the ring, the pebbles on the surface of the ground trembling from the powerful baritone.
Brody whimpers and tries to beg, but Reaper doesn’t let him go. He wraps the cord of the microphone around Brody’s neck and tightens it. “I said swallow it, you filthy bitch,” Reaper states, shoving the pill to the back of Brody’s throat. “Good boy.” Reaper smiles proudly, slapping Brody’s face. “Now we wait.”
“What did you do to me?” he asks into the microphone, and his voice breaks as the drug begins to affect him.
Reaper points at me, narrowing his dark gaze as he crooks his finger.
Like I need to be told twice. I run toward the entrance of the ring and forget everyone else, moving straight to Jo. “You okay, baby?” I cup her face and lay a kiss on her lips.
A sound of sickening laughter follows behind me.
“I’m fine. I just want this over,” she says, unable to meet my eyes. She doesn’t need to be worried about what I’ll think of her. I don’t think bad of her at all. It’s the piece of shit Brody I have a problem with.
I nod, turning around and putting her behind me, staring at the man who changed the course of Jo’s life.
“How’s it feel to get my sloppy seconds?” He laughs, but it’s cut short as Reaper tightens the cord around his neck. He stops laughing, but not speaking. “Told the bitch I loved her, and she believed it. She begged for my cock. Cried for it. I couldn’t fuck her fast enough.”
“I did not! I wanted nothing to do with you!” Jo cries and tries to step around me to get to him, but I hold her back.
I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of what’s mine.
I take a step forward and throw my fist in the air, slamming it against the asshole’s jaw. He falls to the ground, and the crowd cheers as he spits up blood. When he tries to get up, he sways, stumbling to the right until he smashes against the cage and the microphone untangles from around his neck.
“What … wha … did you do … me,” he slurs incomplete sentences.
“We did what you did to her, Brody.” I kick him onto his back and lay my boot against his throat. “We’re going to fuck you up, and there won’t be anything you can do about it.” I pick him up by his chest and give him hope. “If you tell us who hired you, we’ll let you live,” I say. “That’s the only stipulation.”
“Just … a bunch … of college kids,” he tries to stay awake, but the drug is hitting him hard. “All… in my … phone.” He gives them up easily, and I dig into his pocket for his cell. Nothing in the right, but jackpot in the left. I toss it to Tool. “Give it to Badge.”
“Now, let’s do some reenactment.” I rip his shirt from his body. “Is this how he did it, Jo?” I turn to ask her and see that’s she’s leaning against Braveheart, anger swirling in her orbs, turning those beautiful greens into monsters.
“Yes,” she said. “Only he should have a beer first.”
“Right,” I snap my fingers, remembering he drugged her beer. “Anyone have a beer they would like to share?” I shout toward the crowd and bottles and cans are thrown at the cage. Tool picks a few cans up that didn’t bust and walks back over.
“How about a shotgun party?” Tool says, stabbing the can with his screwdriver. “Isn’t that what all the college kids do?” He places the can against Brody’s lips, and the guy is forced to drink it down. Tool throws the empty can across the ring and punctures a hole in another and forces Brody to drink that one too. Beer runs down the edges of his mouth, turning the dirt of the ring into mud.
“I think I’ll take your trigger fingers just like we did your buddy that you hired. Poor bastard, he was supposed to help us, you know—that was the plan—and then he had to go and scare himself to death. He had a heart attack, and we had to improvise. Surprise!” Reaper chuckles, slicing the first finger off Brody.
He cries out, already begging for his life. “No… more, please.”
“Aw, did you stop when Jo asked you to? Did you stop your men from firing into a home where women and children lived? No?” Reaper slices the other trigger finger off and tosses it on the ground. The crowd screams and stomps on the bleachers again. The feet pounding on the shaky metal reminds me of a rapid heartbeat.
“No one fucks with a Ruthless King, Brody,” I state, dragging my scalpel down his chest. I watch as his skin splits, and blood starts to drip. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, and I laugh when he asks for help. I circle the scalpel around his nipple and place my lips next to his ear. “You’re in a room full of people, and no one is going to help you.” I stab him unexpectedly in the belly, then tug it out, watching the blood roll free.
I was conditioned for this. This moment. This man. This woman.
I’m my father’s son, and if there is one thing I’m good at, it’s slicing flesh.
I flip him onto his stomach like my father did to me. “You dare touch her and take what’s mine. You fucking dare!” I say, carving my own scars into his back. I drag it all the way down until his ass bleeds. “You dare hurt my family. And for what? You knew she was with us.”
He can’t say anything. He’s barely conscious. The drug, the pain, he can’t handle it. I cut a path down the middle of his back until his spine shows. “Do you know, all I have to do is damage this area,” I tease my scalpel around the spinal cord, threatening to cut it, “and you’ll be paralyzed.” I filet him open like a fucking fish, and memories flash in my mind of when my dad did the same to me. “But then you wouldn’t be able to feel what I’m going to do to you.”