Page 25 of Fall of Hellfire (Hellfire Society #3)

Turning back to Ethan, I debate the best way to go about my new grand plan.

First things first, I need to drag his dead ass weight up and sitting again.

Moving into position behind Ethan, I grab the back of the chair, brace my feet on the ground, and pull.

The chair barely shifts before I'm letting go and moving to the side to try this angle. Once again I brace my feet into the ground, grab the chair while trying to avoid having to touch Ethan and pull. This time the chair wobbles up, teetering on two legs before I give it another hard yank. That works, as the chair crashes back on all fours, causing Ethan’s body to fling with it, his head flying forward and landing against his chest. "Huh, still passed out. We can't have that."

Quickly I run back upstairs and to a supply closet to grab an empty cleaning bucket.

Moving to the bathroom next, I fill the bucket with cold water before heading back to the basement.

I set the bucket beside Ethan's chair and head to the table.

I had seen a brief glimpse of what was laid out on the table when we originally brought Ethan down, but I wasn't in the right mindset to fully understand what I was seeing.

All sorts of tools and surgical instruments are laid out; some still covered in dry blood.

I bet my left ass cheek that the blood belonged to me.

Seeing everything he used on me only solidifies my decision moving forward.

Moving back to the bucket, I lift it and dump the entire thing over Ethan's passed out self.

The moment the cold water hits him, his body jerks, spluttering at the sudden shock to his system.

I grin as his wide eyes go wild, searching the room before landing on me near the table again.

I run my fingers across the cold metal of each tool before landing on and choosing a six-inch hunting knife.

"This will do," I tell him, turning and showing him my proud choice.

"Don't you think?" I ask, not that I think he will answer.

Slowly I move towards him, circling him, showing him that he is now the prey in this situation.

He tenses as I slide the edge of the knife along his back, over his arms, and come to a stop at the center of his chest. "I remember when these roles were switched.

" I use the tip of the knife to point back and forth between us.

"But you had my clothes cut away, so let’s make that even now.

" I give him a wicked grin as I reach forward, grip the center opening to his button-up, and yank.

Buttons fly out as I let go of the fabric and it falls around his arms. "I can work with this. "

"Fuck you, bitch. You think you’re all big and bad right now, all because you have those bastards hanging around you.

" He lets out a cold chuckle. "One way or another their father will see them dead.

They don't have enough power in this city to go up against them.

" It was my turn to let out a chuckle, but Ethan has the nerve to spit at me a moment later.

Narrowing my eyes, I ask myself, what would Riot do?

Then I act... slamming the knife down into Ethan's leg.

"Oops. It slipped." I shrug as he lets out a stream of curses.

I had enough after the third bitch directed at me, so I decided to gag him again.

"It's not exactly how I planned this. I prefer to hear you scream like how you heard me, but honestly.

.." I let out a sigh. "Your voice is getting on my nerves.

" He glares daggers at me still attempting to speak.

"Soooo..." I start tilting my head to get a better angle of Ethan's bare chest. "Where should I start?

" I wave my hand in the air. "Never mind.

You didn't give me a choice, so let's just dive right in. "

And that's where Riot and Arsen find me.

Covered in blood, a barely conscious Ethan seated in a chair with the words SICK FUCK carved into his chest. Well, I knew it said that, but you couldn't really tell with all the blood coating his skin.

A sick sort of pride overtakes me when Riot sees my handiwork and begins to clap.

"Damn, baby. Your lettering needs a little work, but that is a masterpiece if I've ever seen one." I beam at his words as I step back to stand beside them and take in the full picture. Honestly, it's not too bad.

"One second," Arsen calls, grabbing the bucket and jogging upstairs to what I assume is to refill it.

I keep my eyes glued to Ethan's chest. The slow rise and fall as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "How does it feel?" Riot asks, a soft whisper against my ear.

"Honestly?" He nods. "I feel free." And I do.

Something about returning the favor, cutting out a piece of him that he had no right to take from me, is freeing.

Like I can breathe again. Arsen returns moments later with a filled bucket and, without any fanfare, tosses the water onto Ethan.

Once again, his body jolts from the shock, the water clearing away the blood mess and giving me an even cleaner view of my work.

I'm not even sure it was possible, but my grin grows even wider, my cheeks aching at this point.

This time Ethan doesn't bother trying to speak past the gag, going straight to glaring at the three of us.

Turning my back on him, another stroke of genius strikes.

I eye Riot from head to toe first before moving my gaze to Arsen.

Biting my lip, the idea takes form. "I need you both to fuck me.

Help me show this asshole what was never and will never be his.

" Slowly I reach for the edge of my shirt and slide it up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor before moving to the button of my jean shorts.

The whole time keeping my eyes trained on my men.

I wish Cash was here, but I can make it up to him later.