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“Hey, Dustin, can you please go sit with Abbie and Tyson for me?” Gannon calls out. Dustin lifts his head from sifting through all the crap holding a broken cup he found, and he thinks I am sentimental about my apron? What the fuck does he want with a broken cup? He can’t drink out of it. Half the side is missing!

Dustin nods before climbing over the crap to walk to the other side where Abbie and Tyson are with the King and Queen, taking his broken cup with him. At least my apron is functional! If he’s taking that thing with us, my apron is definitely coming!

Gannon and I start digging the bastard out, and he groans when Gannon accidentally steps on his busted leg.

“He’s going to scream when we pull him off that rebar,” Gannon says as we examine the bar penetrating his gut.

I glance around, trying to find something to muffle him, before taking my shoe off and removing my sweaty sock. “What pretty lips? Now open up wide!” I snarl, and he coughs.

“Kill me!” he rasps out.

“Not until we get you to the bunker,” I tell him, jamming the filthy sock in his mouth and slipping my boot back on. With another glance around, we quickly drag him out.

“You grab the…” I look down, trying to find a way to grab him so that we can get a good grip on him for a quick getaway, but one leg is bent awkwardly. “You get the ass, and I will get the head,” I tell him.

“You get the ass! You’re the ass man, not me!” Gannon says.

“Fine! I will get the ass, just hurry up before someone sees us!” I tell him, and we struggle for a few seconds. Crux mumbles incoherently in pain before we take off for the old trail behind the garden under the clotheslines. As we reach the forest edge, we see Peter, and we both stop dead in our tracks, caught red-handed with our new plaything. Both of us eye him while I consider whether I will have to julienne his ass.

“I saw nothing,” he says, strolling away and scooping an apple off the ground. Good boy.

“Quick!” I hiss, and we rush for the safety of the trees.

Thank you, almighty Moon Goddess, for this blessing!I think to myself as I laugh. This shall be fun! Coming up one Crux kebab!

“Hopefully, he tastes better than the Doyle steaks. He was a bit chewy,” I tell Gannon, and he chuckles.

He thinks I am joking, but a chef must always taste his masterpiece. It was just a little nibble, and he tasted like shit; I think I over-marinated him.

We get Crux down to the bunker, placing him in a section that is no longer in use due to safety reasons. It is even older than Kyson’s father. We strap the bastard down on a stone slab, re-breaking his distorted limbs. His screams are muffled by his gag. I pull out a set of my new tools. I am excited to put them to use, giggling to myself finally.

“What the hell do you have over there, Liam? Don’t think I didn’t hear you squeal like a schoolgirl meeting her crush.”

I spin around with my new toys in hand. Gannon’s brow knit together. Not sure what to make of it, I click my tongue in annoyance at his ignorance of my new gems of torture. “It’s a pear of anguish, you ninny!”

“Since this fucker liked to make his profits trafficking and prostituting children, why not send him out with a bang-up his ass? I have one for his mouth, too. It came as a set.” I clap my hands anticipating my fun.

I strip down, putting my apron on. Just our luck, I find some of the medieval torture devices while securing the tunnels leading to the bunkers. Gannon helps put Crux’s knees in the splitter after we cut him free from his clothes while I hum to myself. Crux tries in vain to loosen his restraints. Gannon pops some wolfsbane under his gag before replacing it with the pear, twisting it to fit.

“Ah ah ah, Crux. Don’t think for a second I have forgotten about your other hole. Promise I’ll even spit on it for you,” I tell him, giving him a wink. I shove it up his turd cutter, causing his muffled scream to vibrate around the pear occupying his mouth.

An hour later, this turd is still trying to hang on to his wretched life. “Liam, we need to hurry up. Abbie is going to come looking for me soon.”

“Fine, let me get my skewers. His pecker is barely hanging on anyhow. Sausage kabobs, it is then,” I huff, rolling my eyes at his party-pooping mood.

The shock of his dick now at the tip of my skewer is his breaking point. We listen as his heart sputters to a halt, and my face lights up like a kid on Christmas at my handy work. Though I am upset, I can’t play a little longer.

Leaving him there, we make our way back to the ruins of the castle. Abbie looks over at us and exhales. “I have been looking for you,” she tells Gannon, quickly moving to his side.

“For real, that thing survived?” she asks, glaring at my apron.

“What does everyone have against my poor apron? It has done nothing to you,” I tell her. She pulls a face at me.

“It’s alright, I will get you one just like it, blood and all,” I tell her.

“I think I will pass,” she tells me before staring at me dazedly. Fuck, she is definitely sired to me. Gannon waves a hand in front of her face, and she shakes her head and snaps out of it. Gannon growls at her, gawking, tugging her closer.

‘I’m gonna have to take care of that,’Gannon mindlinks me, and I nod. Though sires are difficult to break, it requires him feeding her copious amounts of his blood to rid hers of mine or knocking her up, which I say he’ll prefer doing to her. That always seems to remove sire bonds for some reason. No one knows why, and I can only guess, but for some reason, it works.