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Cuddling my daughter, I gather my sons as the curtains close and go to join my wife, my empress, sparrow, songbird. My love.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE FINAL RETRIBUTION
Hassan ~Unknown Black Site
Blinking when the blindfold finally lifts with a rough tug, I give myself a second to allow my vision to adjust to my surroundings. Adjusting the bag holding my kit on my shoulder, I look at the deep cavern before me. Lights line the path at strategic distances, so one can only see just ahead to the next one. The space is as wide and long as a football field. I know from the pulsing silence we are underground and this place is soundproof.
It’s dark, so that helps. The smell of blood, piss, and excrement flares in my nostrils with a pungency speaking of desperation and fear.
Screwing my gaze on what lies in front of me, I step further out of the door of the SUV. I take in the scene surrounding me.
A figure of a man twists, rattling the chains, making the clink in a manner I find particularly annoying.
“This bitchass motherfucker.” Rolling my shoulders, I take my jacket off, handing it to the masked figure walking beside who grunts.
“I’m not your body man,” he bitches in thickly accented Russian as we stalk to the morbid tableau before us. Have to admit the closer I get to my prey, my stride turns jaunty.
“Humph, sure, Volk.” Ignoring his grumbling, I come to stand beside Nikko Savalle and the unfortunate but very deserving of death degenerate thrashing in the chains.
“We good?” he asks, never taking his attention from the nude pedophile dangling before us.
“Nah, we ain’t never gone be good, man. You’ll be working off taking my family for a while. But,” I nod toward this figure before us. “This is a good start.”
“Told you we should’ve just killed him.” Comes a voice from the other side of Nikko. Another tall figure emerges from the darkness strapped to the gills.
I look over to the chilling gaze of Ozymandias Love. “Seems like you got more than enough on your plate, my friend. How’s your little houseguest?” I give a soft chuckle at the barest flare of acknowledgment in his silver eyes.
I wink at him, letting him know he needs to be quiet as kept before a certain Colombian cartel is tearing through his shit again and sooner than he likes.
“You got him. He disappeared for a hot second.” I say, looking at the man sweating his ass off, pleading through the ball-gag shoved tight against his lips.
“Yeah, but the greedy motherfucker couldn’t resist trying to sell what was mine.” Nikko grits out, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard with his need to end this bitch.
“Aight, let me get to work.” Take my bag off my shoulder. I lave my kit on a stainless steel table. “There is a sink to rinse if needed.” Kairi informs me. His keen interest in my array of tools is obvious by the way he leans forward. This motherfucker gives the stoicism of the Takedas a run for their money.
He nods in approval as when I finish laying out my knives, put perks up with a wide smile when I lay out the last items.
“A rib spreader? An Enucleation spoon? Hmm.” He nods with appreciation.
“Prep this, will you?” His eyes light up when I pass him the adrenaline and the syringe. “Don’t want him passing out when we get to the fun part.” Snatching the castration blinders from my kit, I stand before the man who harmed my beloved.
“Rob, Rob, Rob,” I tsk, shaking my head. Flicking a gaze at the men assemble, I mutter. “Legs. Fire the poker.” Nikko does the honors of lighting the furnace and shoving the poker within.
“I hear you like raping little girls —”
“And taking pictures and videos of the innocent and selling them to sick fucks like yourself to the highest bidder.” Come the wrathful voice of my new brother-in-law as he works the poker with relish in the flames.
Damn, he’s sick. Lyric wasn’t his daughter. Song is his blood-related kid.
Now, I see what it cost Nikko to let me have this final retribution.
“You’re never making it out of here alive. How long you take to die is up to you. Give us the name of the others.” Volk says, his phone at the ready to record the names.
“A-anonymous.” He gasps, his eyes pleading. “She’s lying. She was just jealous of not having her mom’s attention.” Spit bubbles in the corners of lips and he spews his filth. I debate takings lying tongue first.
I don’t bother telling him Lyric never told me. She’s moved past it. Found her happiness in our growing family. When she’s ready to share her story, I will be there.