Deviants (Badlands 2)

He was covered in sweat by this point, his chest heaving as if it pained him to breathe.

“I think I know where this is going,” Cobra crooned.

Laughing, I stepped back. Romero wrapped his arm around my shoulder and tucked me into his side.

“Do the honors.” He waved to Vicky, giving Cobra the green light.

Having the foresight to know what was about to happen, Marco writhed on the floor like a wounded animal.

Cobra lifted Vicky over the banister like she weighed nothing and sent her airborne. The fact that she never saw it coming made it ten times more enjoyable.

The real entertainment and payoff was watching Marco’s dick go from an ugly pink to a dark purple as the twine angrily dug into it, cutting off all the blood flow and circulation.

He couldn’t walk and was in so much pain he just lay there and screamed in agony, being dragged across the hardwood floor. Just as he reached the banister that would have stopped him from following his wife to the lower level, the twine broke apart.

I stepped right over him and peered down to see Vicky lying motionless at an odd angle. Her neck was bleeding and her right leg was clearly broken. The bone had shifted to an obtuse angle, almost pushing clean through her flesh.

“Well, alrighty then.” Cobra nodded.

“That was like, cathartic, in a really weird fucked up way,” Arlen agreed.

“What do we do with him?” Romero asked, resting his boot on Marco’s side.

I looked down at the man and studied him, committing this moment to memory. I imagined it wasn’t quite so fun with the tables turned.

When you went from being the strong to the weak, helpless, and completely at someone else’s mercy, and you could do nothing to make the pain and degradation stop, death would be a welcome relief.

He and his wife had made me feel like that many times.

This—what I was doing to him—was an act of kindness compared to what I had planned out in my head. But my options were limited in this cabin so I had to do the best with what I had.

Did it change my past and erase years of being an abused fuck toy? No. Did it make me feel better and thirst to hurt someone more, do something crueler? Hell yes.

I hated these assholes.

I wanted them dead.

“Let’s go check on your hole” Romero’s voice filtered into my head, bringing me back to the moment. Our bloodied fingers intertwined and we walked away together.

Cobra and Arlen followed, dragging Marco behind them.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The grave was shallow perfection.

Cobra dumped Marco right into it and managed to squeeze Vicky in slightly on top of him.

Being buried alive with your dead wife had to be a nightmare. Fortunately, I was the dream-maker and not the victim.

“How did you do this so fast?” I asked Bryce, toeing the soft dirt.

“It was already started. We haven’t found whatever it was they wanted buried.”

I hummed and stared down into the hole. It was caddy-cornered from the cabin with a clear view of the upper master-bedroom.

I wondered if that was planned.

“He looks damn pitiful,” Arlen sighed.