Savage Heart (Wreck & Ruin 2)

Five years before

“I want her cleaned,” I order one of Clayton’s hired guards, “and put in new clothes.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” he snaps.

I stop walking, spine stiffening, “Do you know who I am?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck who you are?”

I roll my shoulders and turn to the guy, remembering where I had seen his face before. He was the second guard who had a hold of that girl. The girl that now belongs to me. I move on him before he can counter the attack, yanking his arm behind his back and forcing it into a position that, if I move, just an inch, I’d snap it. He cries out but he knows he can’t move without risking a broken limb and it doesn’t matter how fucking tough you are, this shit hurts. “I saw what you did to her,” I tell him, “I saw how your hands groped at tits, how you gawked at the skin she had on show.”

“Why do you care!?”

“Because she’s mine now, and if you so much as sniff in her direction I will personally rip off your cock and shove it down your throat. Now, get some of the staff into that room and have her cleaned and given new clothes.”

“You’re the assassin,” he swallows, “the Ghost?”

“The one and only, and trust me when I say this, it would take me no time at all to kill you right here, do you understand me?”

He nods.

“What a good little sheep you are,” I push on his arm, forcing a whimper from him, “Have I made myself clear enough on your orders?”

He nods once again, “Then off you go.”

I release him and he bolts, disappearing from my sight. With her being taken care of, I head up to the main house above, leaving the rot and decay below and walking into opulence and money. Crystal chandeliers dangle from high ceilings and the marble floors gleam in the twinkling light. House staff buzz down the many halls, and somewhere in the house I smell food being cooked, a rich smelling meat and the trimmings to go along with it. I pass rooms where cocks are being sucked and closed doors where the sound coming from them tells me exactly what’s going on inside.

One day I’d have this place in flames.

I head up to the room Clayton had assigned me and pull some basic clothes from my bag, swapping out the black suit pants for ripped jeans and my shirt for a hooded sweatshirt. The girl would never trust me if I looked like them.

Once I’m changed, I head back down and towards the back of the house where I know several guards take their breaks. It wouldn’t be hard to initiate a fight with them.

I throw my fist into the first guy I see, slamming my knuckles into his nose once, twice, letting his blood coat my skin. It’s hard not to lose myself to the bloodlust, hard to remember I couldn’t actually kill these men when I really wanted to. I wanted to feel their blood on my skin and scent their fear, I wanted to watch as the life drained from their eyes stolen by my hand.

A body slams into the side of me and I let him take me. He rams me against the wall and promptly elbows me in the ribs, once, twice, three times and I feel a bone fracture. The pain is heady, it makes me feel fucking alive. My blood roars. My heart sings as I land another punch.

I hadn’t killed anyone with my bare hands for a long time, maybe one of these fuckers could accidently die. I mean what was one when there were so many. A fist slams into my cheek, another against the back of my head. Four of them against me and yet I still wasn’t down. Perhaps Clayton needed better staff.

I lash out at the closest one, my fist colliding with his throat. He sputters and goes down and I move onto the next one, letting my fists fly. I feel blood pouring from cuts on my face, my breath comes out roughly, the broken rib making it hard to breathe easily.

I don’t stop fighting though. I never will.

One of the guys turns slightly, why I don’t know, but it was his first and final mistake around me. Showing me his back and that precious spot at the back of his head, that nice little soft area where his neck meets his skull. All it takes is one, quick precise blow.

The thrill of the kill makes my skin tingle and while it wasn’t like my usual kills, it was no less exciting. I calculate my punch and then strike, hitting him exactly where I need to. He goes down instantly, fatally wounding his brain and cutting off oxygen to the vital organ. He makes a satisfying thud as he hits the floor.

The hits to my body keep coming, and I keep taking them until my body slumps and I sink to the floor, bleeding onto the fur rug. The bright spots of crimson against the white are striking.

Eventually they stop beating the ever-loving shit out of me and leave me on the floor, taking their fallen friend out of the room. Eventually someone comes in and finds me, and a sick smile twists my mouth.

“Just the person I need,” my voice rattles, “Take me down below.”

“What the fuck happened to you!?”

“Adam!” Someone yells, “Where the fuck is my beer?”

“Get it yourself!” The guard who I now know is called Adam yells back. “What happened?”

“Take me down.” I order.

He frowns but then he remembers who I am and reluctantly comes to me, helping me up off the floor. My blood runs freely, and my clothes are wet with it.

“You look like shit.”

“Good.”

I limp at his side, clutching my side as if that’ll somehow stop the pain. The stairs down prove difficult but then the stench of piss and rot hits my nose and we’re walking down the long corridor.

“Was she taken care of?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Put me in her room.”

“It’s against the–”

“Do not test me, Adam.”

He audibly swallows and we stop at her door. “Are you sure about this? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

I shove the door open hard, letting it slam against the wall. Inside, I hear her soft gasp of shock and I snatch away from Adam, forcing myself to stumble into the room. With no other choice, he closes and locks the door.

Taking a moment, I lean against the wall, steadying my breath.

“Who are you!?” The girl hisses. I glance over my shoulder, seeing her pressing herself into the corner of the room, fear twisting her features, her skin pale. They had done as I had asked and let her wash. Her black hair is still wet from her bath and the clothes on her body are clean, it’s only a simple baby blue nightgown but it’s clean and damage free. The dirt and blood has been washed from her skin but she is still too pale to be classed as healthy, and I vow, right here, I would get her into a better state.

“I’m not your enemy,” I tell her calmly, wiping the back of my hand under my nose, trying to clean away some of the blood.

“They did that to you?” She whispers, softening a little.

I nod. It wasn’t a lie. They did do this to me. She doesn’t need to know why.

Seeing her this close is jarring. I hadn’t anticipated how fucking stunning she was. I saw it earlier but now I get to have a good look, she’s the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There was something about her pale skin and striking black hair that reminded me of Snow White.

Slowly, she unpeels herself from the wall and cautiously comes towards me, plucking up an aged blanket from the bed. Her eyes, a blue so cold it may as well be ice, roam over my face, taking in the features that are probably swollen and bruised. It wasn’t the greatest first impression I must admit.

“Come,” she says gently, taking a hold of my hand in a far too trusting way. I let her guide me towards the cot in the middle of the room, a rusted metal frame with a sunken mattress and threadbare sheets. I sit, looking up at her.

“I’m Isobel,” she tells me, examining my face.

“Hunter.”

After she’s done examining my face, she takes the blanket and begins to rip off bits of it before she dabs at the blood on my face, trying to wash it away.

“I’ve never seen them take a man,” she admits, brows furrowing.

I don’t say anything.

“This is a horrible place, Hunter,” she tells me quietly, “We won’t leave here alive.”

“How long have you been here?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Her dark brows pull down low and she cocks her head as if thinking, “I’m not entirely sure,” she answers, “three or four years maybe? I was fifteen when they took me.” So, Clayton’s age information earlier wasn’t entirely wrong.

My rage burns through me so quickly and fiercely, it takes all my will power not to rip my way out of this room and murder every single fucker upstairs. I had that power.

Clenching my jaw, “They hurt you?”

Her hand pauses and those blue eyes meet mine, shining with fresh tears, “Every day.”