Savage Heart (Wreck & Ruin 2)

Five years ago

The smell of piss and blood saturates the air, the floor beneath my boots sticky with something I do not want to identify. The cries are loud but it’s the grunts, the slap of skin on skin that makes my skin crawl.

There was plenty I would do but this, this makes me sick.

But this isn’t my circus and I had jobs to do.

“We are very impressed with your skills,” the man, Clayton, says. I only met him a week ago, after he introduced himself and his interest in me on a call. “That target had been proving tricky for our other employees, but you didn’t seem to have any trouble.”

I nod once. He really wasn’t any trouble at all, in fact that job had ended sooner than I had hoped for. Men like these people, like Clayton, they always died too quickly. They were always weak.

Ahead of us, a door slams open violently, smashing against the crumbling wall of the hall and two men, carrying a small body between them, step out.

She thrashes and fights, her white dress, hanging from her too thin body, is covered in dirt and blood, her dark hair disheveled and knotted, dangling limply around her face.

“We feel your request for how much you are paid is reasonable, and matches your particular set of skills, and therefore we would like to hire you on a more permanent basis.”

“I don’t work for anyone,” I tell him, not taking my eyes from the girl. She continues to fight, though I wonder what she’ll do if she does manage to get free and sees me and Clayton waiting for her. “I will freelance for you, take the jobs that fit for me, but I am not your puppet.”

“Of course, of course,” Clayton placates, waving a dismissive hand. “We trust you’ll keep this location discreet and pick up when we call.”

“If I am not busy,” I take my eyes off the girl and slide them to the rotund man next to me. “I will pick up.”

A scream tears my eyes back to the scene ahead of me. The girl seems to have gotten a second fight in her, because she is now thrashing and kicking out so violently, I can see the men’s grip on her is slipping. She throws her head back and slams the back of her skull into one of guys face and he rears back, letting her go in favor of cupping his bleeding nose. My lips curl up into a smile.

“You little fucking bitch! I’ll be sure to make it hurt the next time I fuck you!” He threatens.

“And I’ll be sure to claw out your fucking eyes!” She yells back breathlessly.

I glance towards Clayton, watching him as he takes in the girl, her bare legs, skin too pale as if she hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, years even. She is covered in bruises, old scratches and scars. Something inside my chest tightens.

She finally looks up to glare at her captors, the hatred around her palpable. And fuck she is beautiful. Even in this state, dirtied and cut up, she is stunning.

Black hair and wide, ice blue eyes. Her mouth is pouty, but the color of her lips is dulled to what it should be, skin cracked from dehydration.

I wanted her.

“I’ll tell you what, Clayton,” I say to the man standing next to me, “my next job for you, I want an advanced payment on it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?”

“We do not know when the next job will come up.”

“But there will be a next job,” I counter, “so you can advance me on it, can’t you.”

“How much?”

“I don’t want money, I want her.”

I finally take my eyes off the girl and look to the man who owns her. A sly, cruel smile lifts his mouth, “She is a beauty, isn’t she? Eighteen or nineteen I believe, been here three years, quite the favorite for some.”

“She is, do we have a deal?”

He tilts his head, contemplating and then nods once, “we have a deal.”