Branded (Savage Men 4)

“You sure are excited,” I say as I check the surroundings to make sure we’re alone.

“It’s been too long,” Chase says.

“All clear,” I say, and we hoist the man out of the truck.

He squirms and screams for help, but no one will come for him here. We’re at a remote warehouse, one of my favorite locations to take care of … people like him. I don’t want to call him human because he’s far from being one. All this man does is take the worst of the worst jobs. Instead of killing people who actually deserve it, he just takes the ones that pay out the best.

He’s one half of the two responsible for murdering Dixie’s brothers, and I’m about to hold him accountable for this sin.

As we drag him inside and strap him to a chair in the middle, his gag somehow gets loose.

“Don’t fucking do this! Please!”

I smack him in the face, and yell back, “Don’t you fucking talk to me.”

He spits out blood in my face. “Like you’re so innocent …”

I punch him again for good measure. But damn, does it hurt my knuckles, so I better not do that again.

“Don’t rough him up too much,” Chase says, throwing the black bag on the floor. The cling-clang sound it makes has the man’s attention. “Otherwise, there’s nothing left to have fun with.”

When Chase pulls out a pair of bolt cutters, the man’s eyes widen, and he begins to screech.

“Please, no! Fuck, no! I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do.”

I bend over and grab his chin. “Nothing. You’ve already done too much.” My smile makes him cower in fear.

Chase approaches him with the bolt cutters and a vicious grin on his face. “Who’ll do the honors?”

“You do it. I don’t think I have the patience to wait this one out,” I say, and I step away. “I just wanna murder him.”

“Aww, but we gotta have some fun first,” he says as he grabs the man’s feet and pulls off his shoes and socks. “Which toe shall we take first?”

“Please! Don’t!” the man begs, and I turn around to face the wall. I can’t look at this piece of garbage without wanting to rip his eyes out for what he did to Dixie. “I’ll give you anything. Money. Cars. Women. My fucking house. Anything, you can have it.”

I don’t want anything he’s got to offer … except his blood.

Chase doesn’t say a word and neither do I. Instead, all I hear is the man’s scream.

And fuck me, does it feel good.

“Why? Why?” the man asks, his voice shaky as his blood spills on the floor.

“Why?” I repeat, marching toward him and grabbing him by the throat. “Remember those two boys at that farm in Springhaven?” I ask.

He shakes his head, snot dripping down his lips.

Of course, he doesn’t. He’s probably killed dozens more like them. As if they were meaningless lives. Today, he’ll learn his lesson.

Chase cuts off another toe, and I watch his eyes as they roll into the back of his head from the pain. The yowl that escapes his mouth is as delicious as I imagined it to be.

“The one you stabbed to death? Sliced the other’s throat? They were innocent … and they were young. Too young to die.”

“No, I don’t know. I’m sorry, please. Whatever I did.”

Chase cuts off another one, and the cries that come from his throat are like a song to me. I can’t stop watching the way his lip curls up and his fingernails dig into the chair he’s strapped to.

“Remember me? I’m the boy you forced to help kill those twins that night.” I push my index finger against his chest. “Because of you, my life was destroyed.”

He swallows, his eyes red and stained with tears. “Okay, yes, yes, I remember.”

I’m looking right at him, but I don’t believe any of the shit he’s saying.

So I close my eyes and sigh while Chase cuts off another one of his toes.

This goes on and on until he has none left.

When they’re all gone, the man soils himself. “Please, just kill me,” he pleads.

I guess he could only ever dish out the pain … not take it.

I smile and suck in a deep breath as I watch him go deeper into despair, that same place I once crawled out from.

“No, I think we’ll have more fun with you. After all, you deserve it for bringing so much pain into the world.”

And Chase grabs his hands and begins to cut his fingers off too.

We keep going until everything is gone. Well, Chase is. I’m enjoying the sight while smoking a cigarette lit with my very own Zippo. The same one that was the catalyst for nearly every shitty thing that ever happened to me. But I could never throw this thing away, despite hating it so much. It came from a good place; my papa’s shop. He held it in his hands once, and I can’t help but feel some kind of peace whenever I stare at the gleaming metal. It’s as much a part of me as I am a part of it.