Sledge raises his fist, but I speak before he can strike. “You can kill him now, or you can make it last for months.”
Sledge hesitates, his eyes darting to me as he breathes heavily, fury etching his features.
“Because if he dies right now, he doesn’t tell us anything. If he lives, he lives to suffer another day. And another. And another.”
I pull my shirt off—something I do when I’m ready to scare the hell out of people who think they’re a badass. My back goes to Sledge, giving him the visual, as I speak again.
“I know how to make the pain tolerance grow little by little, until you can handle so much pain that you’re incapable of passing out from it anymore. You’re forced to endure every single strike. Every single cut. Every single ounce of agonizing torture without the reprieve of your body shutting down to spare you.”
I look over my shoulder to see Sledge lowering his fist, nodding at me once.
“I know how to make him pray for hope to survive because death seems like an elusive dream that will never come true,” I go on. “And I can assure you, that after six months of being put through this sort of hell, he’ll forget his own name. He’ll beg you for mercy. He’ll cry and piss himself when you step into view. He’ll be your bitch, in other words.”
Sledge takes a step back, blowing out a breath as he gets himself under control. Hershel has paled a little, reluctant fear etching his face. All these years, he’s never heard me speak about the scars. He knows I’m not bluffing when I tell Sledge I can coach him on how to completely ruin a person.
“Not only will you completely wreck his body, you’ll destroy his mind,” I go on. “He’s too old to recover.”
A dark smile graces my lips as Hershel cuts his gaze to Sledge.
“Liza was good. Especially when she was screaming,” he bites out, trying to rile Sledge into a furious retaliation that will kill him.
Sledge’s lips twitch, not at all rattled.
“Let’s do this your way, kid,” Sledge tells me, his eyes shifting toward Hershel. “Because I want to see him beg.”
Not speaking, I lift my shirt, tying the sleeves together, as Hershel tries to rock the chair he’s tied to, but it’s nailed to the boards of the shed’s floor. After constructing a makeshift bag out of my shirt, I drop it over Hershel’s head.
And with that, I turn Sledge into my pupil, telling him the things that he can do to Hershel.
Telling him the things I know.
Because they were done to me.
CHAPTER 27
MAYA
Eve and I are at the window, watching as Drex, Axle, and Sledge talk outside the shed. They’ve been out there for a really long time.
For some reason, Axle is shirtless.
“Will you hurt me if I ask how he got the scars? I understand I’m just being nosy, but I can’t help myself. I feel like these guys know my life, inside and out, yet I barely know anything about them,” Eve says on a sigh, dropping to a chair and looking at me. “And they act like it’s their right to know everything about me.”
“He got them as a child. That’s all I know,” I tell her, understanding the feeling of everyone knowing your life but knowing nothing of theirs.
The Demon’s Child comment he made has sent a few theories into my head. Only one makes sense, but I keep it to myself, feeling like it’s Axle secret to share.
“He sees red when rape is brought up. It makes me a little queasy worrying that’s what happened to him as a child, and that’s why it’s such a trigger,” she says quietly.
An uneasiness settles in my stomach, but I don’t think that’s what it was. Still, I don’t share that with Eve, and she takes my silence as a sign to change topics.
“How did you know about the hit coming to us? What’d you see on that video?” she asks me seriously.
I slant my gaze toward her, wondering what Drex would do if he heard my theory. After having Axle be so attentive and concerned, I also wonder how he would react, only I’m not as scared of his reaction anymore.
“She looked at the camera,” I tell Eve, my eyes moving back to the window.
“What?”
I shake my head, deciding against telling her. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”
She looks like she wants to press for more, probably confused at what I said, but I turn and walk to the bedroom. I’m wrapped in a towel; there are no clean clothes to wear, since Drake hasn’t arrived yet.
Dropping the towel, I climb into the bed that smells fresh, as though the bedding was just washed yesterday. No sooner than I get comfortable and covered up, Axle walks in.