Trouble in Hell (Hell Night 1)

“Because prison wasn’t good enough. In prison, they still had a chance to get out. We’ve seen it too many times, where a rapist or pedophile is given a shit sentence or released early. People like who don’t deserve to walk free ever again. People like them never change. Their thoughts will never be pure.”

I give her a minute to process that before giving her more.

“When we came back to Sweet Haven, we made a lot of changes. We wanted it to be a safe place for people. We wanted to offer it to those who’d been hurt, and for them to know it’ll never happen again, that they’re safe here. We offer our town and protection to those who need it. Now, my brothers and I hunt down those who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as us. We don’t pretend or try to play God. We just deliver justice when it should be delivered. We don’t go out and kill just anyone who’s been accused of these heinous crimes. We sit and wait, look into each situation and gather our own evidence. If we deem the situation warrants it, we step in. We do the same for anyone who hurts another here in Malus. Except here, we hold town meetings and the people decide their fate. The vote must be unanimous before they’re sentenced to The Expiration Penalty.”

“The Expiration Penalty?” Her words are barely a whisper.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and wait a beat before answering. “It’s the death sentence given to perps of abuse. The act itself is called The Finishing. We wanted to give them both a name since it’s a big part of Malus.”

Her throat bobs up and down a couple times before she clears it. “How many… Expiration Penalties have you had to do?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. I really don’t want to answer that question, but if I want her to trust me and try to accept this part of me, she needs to know everything.

“Seven.”

Remi’s head falls in her hands and her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes fast. Too fucking fast. Throwing caution to the wind, I walk around the coffee table, push it back a few inches, and sit on it right in front of her with the inside of my knees touching the outside of hers. She doesn’t acknowledge my approach, so I unlatch her hands from her hair, forcing her head up so I can see her eyes. They’re red and her cheeks are splotchy. Her hands tremble in my grasp, but she’s not yanking them away, which is a good sign.

“Why?” she asks quietly, her eyes searching mine. “Why do you do this?”

“They deserve it,” I say simply. “Those bastards earn what they get from us because they take something precious from people who can’t defend themselves. Those innocent people deserve to be avenged for the pain they went through. What they went through, what you went through, will always be something you carry; something they carry. It doesn’t define them, or you, but it will always be a part of you. No matter how much you try to forget, you’ll always remember it. They’ve taken something you’ll never get back.”

Her chin wobbles and tears hang on her lashes. I hate using her own experience to help explain what we do, but it’s the best way to make her understand. She’s felt the pain the others have. The fear and helplessness. The confusion on why something so horrible would happen to her.

I scoot the table closer until my legs are encasing hers. When she doesn’t flinch, or pull away, I drop her hands and put mine against the outside of her thighs. She’s in a pair of cotton shorts, so her warm skin meets my palms. She’s no longer looking at me, but instead staring intently at the center of my chest. I don’t force her gaze back on me.

Pulling in a deep breath, I give her the last bit, which isn’t as bad as what I’ve told her already, but it’s the most important part. It’s what fuels mine and my brothers need to do the things we do.

“For the last fifteen years, my brothers and I have been searching for the ones who got away the night of the raid. We’ve found five of them. Once Leland is taken care of, there will be eight left.”

“What did you do with the five you found?”

“Look at me, Remi,” I request gently. Her eyes slowly lift to mine. “You know the answer to that. They’ve already lived far longer than they should have. The last one we found had taken a ten-year-old girl on her way to school. He had her for a week. The one before that worked in the nursery at a church. No one knew the “special” attention she paid to the babies.”

Her face pales and she lifts a shaky hand to her mouth. “She?”

I nod. “She. It’s not only men who hurt people. You have to remember, there were women in Sweet Haven too. Gender doesn’t matter when it comes to abuse.”

We may handle females differently than men, but the outcome is still the same. They die by our hands.

Remi chews on her lip, her face still drained of color as she goes over everything I’ve told her. It’s a lot to take in. Not only a lot, but something most people can’t fathom, let alone consciously accept. I’ve put everything on the line, and I’m hoping like hell it’s not a mistake.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she admits quietly.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know this may be the last thing you want or can even handle right now. And if that’s the case, that’s fine, but I’d really fuckin’ like to hold you right now.”

I remain seated, not wanting to push her and letting her make her decision. It wouldn’t surprise me, and I almost expect it, if she refused any form of touch from me. Her letting my hands stay pressed against her outer thighs gives me hope. She still has the pillow to her chest though, so maybe she just hasn’t noticed my hands yet.

Her eyes move over to the bassinet and she stares at it for several moments. Except for her chest rising with her breathing and blinking every few seconds, she stays completely still. My heart pounds heavily against my chest as I wait for her next move.

Her gaze travels back to me and she pulls the pillow from her chest, setting it between her and the arm of the couch. She grips my hands at her thighs and gently tugs me up from the table. I keep cautious eyes on her as I stand and take the seat beside her. When she sta

nds, I hold my breath, so fucking scared she’s going to walk away. Air whooshes from my lungs in relief when, instead, she sits in my lap sideways. One hand winds around her trim waist, and I grip her thigh with the other. Closing my eyes, I lay my forehead against her shoulder.

Her voice is hesitant when she speaks, like she’s choosing her words carefully.

“I-I can’t say I’m okay with what you do, but… I understand why you do it.” I keep my forehead where it is and let her talk. “I need time to process it all. I’m not sure if it’s something I can ever really accept though.”

I nod, kiss her shoulder, and lift my head.