Savage Heart (Wreck & Ruin 2)

There were names on a list, names with faces I had memorized, their misdeeds forever ingrained inside my brain. What they had done was unforgivable, and for what they had forced Isobel to endure would be punished.

This was the last one I would get for her, I decided, as I stared through the windows into the warm and cozy home, the cop, still in his uniform slouched on the couch watching TV. His wife, however, was an innocent and I wouldn’t touch her.

But the fucker, sipping his beer from the bottle, booted feet on the table while his wife cooks him dinner and cleans the house, he will pay.

I still remembered the video. Still remembered how he looked that day he visited Isobel in her cell.

She begged him, she got down on her grazed knees when she was barely seventeen and begged him. She saw the uniform and the badge, saw the law standing right before her, and she saw hope. And he ripped that away. He was supposed to help her, to defend her and what did he do!? He hurt her instead. He took what was not freely given, and each time he did it, she saw that badge and she saw that hope and she watched it as it faded away into nothing.

I wanted to kill him myself, I would make it slow, torturous, but no, I couldn’t, this one, out of any of them that were contained beneath my house, this one was hers.

I’d only met Isobel a year after this meeting with the cop and I knew then she wasn’t the same person she once was, but there was still light in her eyes, like everything they did to her and kept doing to her was nothing compared to that brilliant bright soul in her. Now, she didn’t seem to have that light. She blamed me for that, but I’d prove her wrong.

Cutting the lock on the electricity box, I snap the wires for the house, plunging the building into darkness. They lived a good distance away from anyone else that the scream I hear from within won’t be heard by anyone else.

“Shut up!” The cop yells, his boots thumping hard against the floor.

I slip in through the front door in time to see him storming towards the kitchen where his wife is. I get to him first. Hitting him hard across the back of the head, I catch him before he can hit the floor.

Leaving him there for a minute, I head through to the wife.

“Shh,” I soothe.

She sucks in a shocked, terrified gasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I tell her.

“Who are you!?” She screeches, “Help!”

“Stop!” I demand, pulling the envelope from my coat pocket, it contains everything she would need to start fresh, far away from here. She can’t see me, but I feel her hand close over it. “I want you to get away,” I tell her, “Speak of this to no one, you’ll never see your husband again.”

“Who are you?”

“Vengeance.”

I leave her in the kitchen with the envelope and lift the body from the ground, taking him out to the waiting car. Once I have him in the trunk, I inject a sedative that’ll keep him out for longer and head back towards the house.

I knew Isobel would be too curious not to explore the house. She’d find the wine I left for her, a particular red I’d learned she enjoyed more than the rest. She may be sleeping by now, I’d find out soon enough.

I back into the drive, lining the car up with the garage door before I climb out and pop the trunk, finding him still unconscious and bleeding onto my upholstery.

With a quick glance around to make sure it was still clear, I unlock and drag him through the door, and towards the basement stairs. He grumbles but doesn’t wake, and as I hit the top of the stairs that’ll lead me down, I wonder if I could just throw him down them without causing too much damage.

Probably not, I realize, and I wanted that to be for Isobel. Sighing, I carry him down to the cells, hearing the whimpers and moans of the others I have down here. It always surprised me.

How men like these, the ones that prey on women, who use them and extort them suddenly turn into little mice in the presence of a true predator. The pleas I’d heard, they were some for the record books and those confessions, the apologies, well, not even God would listen to them.

It’s as if they didn’t believe they belonged here when even they knew, they did.

I dump my latest captive and tie his hands to the chains on the wall, his ankles in much the same state though, he should definitely count himself lucky since he was able to stand, and stretch out those leg muscles.

Leaving him there, I exit, locking the door behind me and heading upstairs where I proceed to put my finger to the scanner and unlock the door. When I head through to the kitchen, I notice the wine is gone.

A glance around the space shows me exactly where she has been. Either she has forgotten or simply doesn’t care, but I notice everything, even the half inch the towels have moved on the sink. Looking through the drawers I see one fork missing. The thought makes me smile even as my shoulder throbs. It was nothing, a flesh wound mostly that required some basic care and antiseptic, but those scars would be worn with pride knowing my vicious little Snow gave them to me.

The house is quiet, any evidence of her wandering around gone so I decide to head up, keeping my footfall silent as I advance on the door to the bedroom.

The door doesn’t make a sound as I open it and find her sleeping in the middle of the bed. Her midnight black hair is spilled across the pillow, her perfect body spread across the mattress. An empty bottle and wine glass sit on the nightstand.

She was soundlessly asleep.

I grin.

No one would sleep like she was if they really thought themselves to be in a house full of enemies. I know her.

She didn’t sleep when we stayed together beneath the Syndicates HQ, she barely slept for the first year we were together, but that last year, she slept more peacefully than she had done in her life. She was safe with me just like she is now.

I let the door click closed behind me and head to the bed.

She was so beautiful it hurt. I trail my fingers down the side of her face, her smooth skin warm under my fingertips. She sighs in her sleep, leaning towards my hand. I ached for her. Ached and hurt for her. I tangle my fingers into her hair, letting the silky strands wrap around my fingers, memorizing how it feels, the texture, the smell. It was like coming home after a long trip, having her here, by my side and in my bed, it was where she always belonged.

Slowly, so not to wake her, I climb in behind her, curling my body around hers. My hand slips under the pillow only to collide with something small and metal. I pull it out and grin.

Such a vicious little creature was my Snow.

I was still healing from the other wounds she had given me, I wasn’t prepared to have more holes put in my body by my stabby little woman. I place the fork in the drawer in the bedside table and go back to her, curling myself around her until her back is pressed to my chest and her ass in my lap. She remains asleep, nestled against me and for the first time in three years I fall easily to sleep and remain that way for the rest of the night.