“Ellie had to have surgery on her ankle to repair the damage to the bone.” I tap the mallet against his mangled foot. The whimper that leaves his lips sounds pathetic. “I think we’ve taken care of that.”
I walk around to the side of the table to his bound wrists, my back facing Ellie. “Her arm was broken in three different spots.”
His arms are straight, a couple of feet away from his sides. Lifting the mallet, I bring it down hard against his forearm. Another horrifying scream forces its way past Billy’s lips as bone and muscle protrude from the limb.
Twisting the mallet, I slam the side of the head down on the bicep. The skin pops open and blood and flesh spray out. The loud crunch of bones mixes with his wails. As sick as it may be, I fucking love the sound.
“You also broke her clavicle,” I say loudly enough for him to hear over his screams.
Lifting the mallet again, I smash the head against his collarbone and hear a pop as it breaks in two.
Hearing something behind me, I turn just as Ellie lists to the side and begins gagging.
“Goddammit,” I mutter.
Dropping the mallet to the table, I rush over to her. I gather her hair off her neck and notice how clammy her skin is. I squat down beside her.
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought you,” I say quietly, pissed at myself for letting her talk me into it. “Jesus, Ellie. I’m so sorry.”
Her bleary eyes search out mine. “No,” she mumbles. “I wanted to be here. I just….” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I thought I could do it.”
She stands on quivering legs, and I turn her so she’s not facing the table. Billy’s wails have turned to hoarse whimpers.
I gather her in my arms. “I’m taking you out of here.”
She nods against my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt. “Are you going to… finish?” she croaks.
I grab her damp cheeks and force her face up. “He doesn’t deserve to live, Ellie.”
“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I just can’t be here anymore.”
I look over her head to my brothers. Emo’s still leaning against the wall, but Trouble and JW have moved closer to Billy.
“End it. I’m taking her home.”
Receiving curt nods, I scoop Ellie up into my arms, making sure to keep her turned away from the grisly sight behind us, and stalk from the lodge. She clings to me as I walk us to my car. My brothers will finish the job and bury Billy in a grave where all the others are. As much as I want to go back and continue what I started, Ellie is more important.
I just hope like fuck she doesn’t hate me after what she just witnessed.
I CARRY ELLIE INSIDE THE house and head straight for the bathroom. She hasn’t said a word since we left the lodge, but the silence is killing me. I know her mind’s trying to come to grips with what happened, so I give her the time she needs to do that, but I still hate it.
Setting her on her feet beside the sink, I turn to the shower. Once the temperature is to my liking, I face her again. Her face still has that deathly pallor, her eyes are red, and she clutches her stomach as if in pain. She hasn’t shed a tear, but her quivering bottom lip says she’s on the verge, which irritates the fuck out of me. Billy doesn’t deserve her sympathy.
Keeping my eyes pinned on her, I grip the bottom of her shirt. Without prompt, she lifts her arms, her vacant gaze somewhere over my shoulder, and allows me to pull it over her head. Her bra is next. Tossing it to the side, I squat and start on the button and zipper of her shorts. Her hands clutch my shoulders as she lifts one leg and then the other from her shorts and panties.
Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against her stomach, right above her belly button. Not that I really expected one, but she doesn’t so much as twitch with the kiss, her thoughts a million miles away.
Gritting my teeth, I stand and quickly yank off my own clothes. I was careful not to allow any blood to get on my clothes during Billy’s torture, but the need to clean us both is overwhelming. It’s more of a mental cleansing for Ellie, hoping to wash away the horrors of what she saw.
“Come on, baby,” I coax and guide her into the shower.
The moment the spray hits her shoulders, they relax. Her head tips back and her eyes fall closed, her mouth parting on a soft exhale. Pain lances through me at the utterly despondent look on her face.
Grabbing a washcloth, I squirt some soap on it, lather it in my hands, and approach her.
“Talk to me, Ellie. Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say, and it sounds like the plea it was meant to be.
Water slides from her lips when she closes her mouth and tilts her head back down. Her eyes flicker open and the misery in them nearly brings me to my knees.