Page 30

29

IRIS

It’s been a few days since Kai opened up to me, but the weight of his words still lingers in my head.

I know it wasn’t his intention, but he did it anyway.

As for Angel... I’m not proud of myself, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak a peek at his phone when I noticed the sudden change in his expression while reading a text one day.

He thought he was alone, but his face betrayed a range of emotions—hurt, confusion, and simmering anger.

I read the messages… All of them. Absorbing every word as they transitioned from belittling him to menacing his siblings.

My Angel is not a failure. He’s loved and respected. As for Kai, no child should experience what he has gone through.

They are insufferable fuckers. Well, Kai is. But they are my fuckers.

Those who believe they can lay a finger on what belongs to Raven without facing any repercussions are sorely mistaken.

Tonight, I’m putting an end to all of them.

To match the occasion, I opted for a more dramatic makeup style. My eyes are adorned with smokey black eyeshadow, creating a dramatic and intense look. The white water line further enhances the effect while red tears stream down my cheeks, resembling blood. A bold black shade adorns my lips, creating a captivating statement. To accentuate the overall appearance, I sketched a subtle line, mimicking stitches extending from the corners of my mouth to my cheeks.

I have to say, I’m pretty proud of myself.

My black top adheres to my skin, making me aware of every movement I make, amplified by the tight choker around my neck.

I never leave without Bart 2.0.

I decided against wearing my fishnet stockings because it seems like the guys can’t control themselves and end up tearing them all anyway.

I should make sure they purchase a large supply of tights.

The torrential rain drenches my skin, causing my denim shorts to cling uncomfortably to my legs while my space buns become undone and fall loose.

So much for a first impression.

Under the shroud of darkness, I conceal myself in the woods, my senses heightened as I patiently await Kai’s father, with Medusa swaying back and forth.

I didn’t expect him to bite at my bait, but I also didn’t expect him to be such a fool.

Who am I kidding? Of course, he would be an idiot.

It was so easy that it almost felt like a joke.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before Jayden started to search for his son.

Just one text message containing Kai’s name and the location of the house was all it took for him to spring into action.

And, yeah, I know, the guy’s ego was so inflated that he named his son after himself. Or, at least, close enough.

I’ve been clear in my instructions for him to come here—he needs to navigate through the dense wood, pass the ancient mausoleum, and he’ll find the house waiting on the other side.

Except I’ll be the one waiting for him.

The guys are out on a mission, and I prefer for them not to be here to witness what I have in store.

I wait patiently, and eventually, I hear the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the leaves and the soft splashes of raindrops.

Oh, Jayjay. You have no idea what you’re stepping into.

His footsteps grow louder as I leave my spot and sprint towards him, my cries causing him to jump in surprise.

“Sir. Oh my god. Help me. I’m begging you.”

The rain provides the perfect camouflage for my tears, washing them away as they streamed down my face.

“What are you doing alone in the forest?”

My hand tightens around Medusa, who is hidden behind me, while my other hand makes a sweeping gesture towards the mausoleum.

I stutter, my hiccups interrupting my words as I urgently gesture towards the mausoleum. “T-there is a man.”

“A man?”

His face is mostly obscured by the darkness, but as I look closer, I can’t help but notice how much he resembles Kai.

The deep lines etched on his face are a clear indication of the damage inflicted by his time in prison.

With an intense gaze, he leans in and forcefully shakes me, urging me to respond.

“What man? What does he look like?”

Dear Lord, his breath reeks of alcohol.

His gaze briefly meets mine, and thank god, they have nothing to do with Kai’s beautiful green.

They are a deep, dark shade of brown, almost bordering on black.

“Y-yes. H-he has a scar on his nose and cheek and?—”

He cuts me off before I can finish speaking, directing his attention to the mausoleum.

Rude.

“Here?” He points towards the mausoleum, his brow creasing.

I nod vigorously, but he shows no signs of wavering and charges towards it.

What does he think he’s going to accomplish with no weapons in his possession?

Kai is not the scared kid he once was.

I follow him, observing the way his footsteps echo in the silence as he enters the mausoleum, his body suddenly becoming rigid.

I can’t blame him.

I took extra care to get everything ready.

With the night already here and the rain pouring down, this place looks even creepier. The candles flicker, and with the distinct smell of death, it would scare even the bravest of people.

The room is filled with an eerie ambiance as real skulls are meticulously placed, their surfaces marked with melted wax and traces of dried blood. In the background, the two Saint Andrew crosses stand as a commanding presence, while an open coffin adorned with scattered chains adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

In addition, I meticulously gathered and arranged all my essential tools on the ground, neatly placing them in order while keeping black bags conveniently nearby.

And I took great care in choosing my tools.

God, I think Kai is taking a toll on me. Look at me, scrubbing every inch of this place as if it wasn’t meant to be a death trap.

“What is all of that?” Jayden’s eyes widen in shock as he cautiously peeks inside the tomb, taking in the sight.

“Oh, Jayjay. You’re not this na?ve, are you?” I swing Medusa back and forth in front of me, mesmerised by the glint of its metallic spikes, as he lifts his head back to look at me. She is really a true beauty. “Coming after your son, after everything you did to him…” I shake my head in disappointment. “This has to be the absolute dumbest choice you could’ve made.”

His face contorts with rage as he spits out. “The little ingrate is the reason I ended up behind bars.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can explain yourself later on. I don’t really have the time for this right now.”

Catching him off guard, I forcefully jab the handle of the bat into his stomach, then swiftly swing it against the side of his head.

In a macabre dance, his body swings to the side, and his upper body plunges into the tomb.

Ahhh, I like it when things go my way.

I lift his legs and drop him inside it, the sound of his body hitting the bottom echoing with a loud thud. Then, I instantly grab the chains and tightly wrap them around his wrists and ankles.

Perfect.

Placing myself at the end of the tomb, I summon every ounce of my strength to force the lid shut.

And fuck me, this is heavy.

It takes me a few minutes of struggle, but I eventually succeed in closing it tightly and sealing it with sturdy chains.

I swear to god, if I cannot open it later on, he’ll die inside. I don’t care.

“Sleep tight,” I whisper before making my way out.

I trudge through the wet woods, the rain soaking through my clothes, until I finally reach the other side of the road where a car sits patiently, engine humming.

I open the door and pop inside it.

“Thank you for picking me up.”

“And miss the big revenge plot? Never.”

“Okay, baby killer.”

As I drop the Medusa in the back of the car, a chuckle escapes from my lips while Will passes me a towel.

She’s been the only one to know my plan, and even though I would’ve had no problem dealing with Angel’s parents alone, there’s no way in hell I would have dragged two unconscious bodies all the way to this place.

We drive in silence; the only sound filling the space is the loud music blaring from the speakers as I reach into my pocket to retrieve my vibrating phone.

We’re here.

A devious giggle bubbles up from within me. I knew they would be greedy little bitches.

“They bit it?“ Will asks, bobbing her head in sync with the music.

“Of course they did. Who in their right mind would turn down an offer from someone who promises to eliminate their unwanted child and assist in draining their finances?”

Sadly, that’s all they needed.

I asked them to meet at a location not too distant from here, where an abandoned house stands.

And that’s where we find them, sitting on the front porch when we arrive.

I don’t know what I expected, but his parents look completely different from what I had imagined.

His mother appears frail and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and dishevelled hair, while her clothes are visibly dirty.

She has bags under her eyes, and they are noticeably glassy, likely from consuming alcohol.

His father’s clothes are in tatters, and he has the same distant gaze as her.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they take more than just alcohol.

Willow parks her SUV and glances at me with a grin.

“No killing,” I remind her.

“You’re really not fun. Can I still not take part?”

“Nope. They’re mine.” I wink at her before exiting the car.

Their eyes widen in astonishment as they take in our appearances, and I can’t blame them. I look like a crazy Harley Quinn, and Will appears as if she has just escaped from a psychiatric ward.

“Iris?” his mother asks, her voice filled with doubt.

“That’s me.”

I signal for them to follow me. I open the car door, and they eagerly take their seats without question.

Will opens the other side of the car, and before anyone can react, we exchange a knowing glance. In a synchronised motion, we withdraw the syringe from our pockets and administer the tranquilliser into their neck.

“It’s fucking boring when people don’t fight back,” she complains.

“Yeah, I don’t think they understood what was happening.”

I slam the door, sinking into my seat, and feel a satisfying pop as I crack my neck.

“Let’s go.”

Will assisted me in bringing Angel’s parents into the mausoleum while giving me pleading eyes as if begging me to stay by my side. I couldn’t contain my laughter at her remark, and to appease her, I made a promise to join her on a killing mission as if I were a parent using ice cream as leverage.

Additionally, she helped me take Kai’s father out of the tomb, which she was really impressed with.

She left thirty minutes ago, and since then, I’ve been waiting for all of them to wake up.

This place is a perfect blend of creepiness and Halloween vibes, which I absolutely love. But the shocking lack of hospitality is quite disappointing. It would have been nice if they had thought about my comfort and placed a couple of chairs in the corner for me to relax.

While I am engrossed in filing my nails on the floor, I become aware of Jayden’s gradual movements and the slow opening of his eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Blowing the dust off my nails, I turn the nail file towards Miranda and her husband, chained to the feet of the cross. “We just need for them to wake up so we can start the party.”

“Why am I here?”

“Shh. You’re really not good at following orders, are you?”

At the same time, Miranda and her husband start to wake up.

“Welcome.” Getting up from the floor, I approach them and then crouch down to their level. “Miranda.” I turn to glance at Angel’s father because I have no idea what his name is.

“Robert,” he croaks.

“Right. Robert, Miranda, meet Jayjay, Kai’s father.”

“Why are we here?” Miranda asks, her lips quivering.

Tilting my head to the side, I lock eyes with her, trying to decipher her emotions.

It’s captivating to witness the fear reflected in people’s eyes.

“Why are you here? What a silly question. Did you really expect me to hand Archer to you on a silver platter?” I reach into my bra and pull out a liquorice stick, savouring its sweet and tangy flavour as I chew on it. “What? I needed a safe place to keep it.” I stand up and point the sweet towards them. “I feel like you’re judging me.”

I tightly grip Medusa and swing it back and forth in front of them as I pace.

Their eyes fixate on me, filled with a palpable sense of terror, and I have to say, I quite enjoy it.

“As I was saying, that was really silly of you to think I would hand you Archer out of nowhere, especially after the pain you’ve inflicted on him and his brothers.”

“We never?—”

“Tsk tsk. Do I look like your words would have any impact on me?” She stays quiet, but her drunk eyes betray her as tears stream down her face. “I saw every message you sent him, and that’s not glorious. To be honest, I don’t understand why he didn’t kill you both.” I turn my gaze to look at Jayden. “As for you… I don’t even know where to begin. I’m speechless. And I’m a killer, so that says a lot. But your own kid?” My voice cracks as I shake my head, feeling a rush of emotion. He repulses me. “The only thing that you all need to know is that tonight… you all die.”

I let their voices of protest resound through the mausoleum, amplifying the tension in the air, as I retrieve the screwdriver from the cluster of tools tucked away in the corner of the room.

“Let’s start with you, Jayjay, shall we?”

“What are you going to do with that?” His voice trembles, yet there is a subtle undertone of defiance, almost bordering on arrogance.

Fucking prick.

“Simple.” I drop Medusa at my feet. “How did you do it?” His eyes understand immediately what I’m referring to.

He looks straight into my eyes and says, “I took my time. He was seven. I remember every scream that escaped his lips, every agonising sound that filled the air. He begged me to stop, but he needed to learn his lesson. Even now, I can recall the sensation of his flesh giving way under my hand.”

My hand wraps tightly around the screwdriver. He has a fucking problem, but he’s not done talking.

“Every detail is etched in my memory... the feel of his small body pressed against mine, the scent of his sheets as I slipped into his bed while his mother lay motionless from the blow I had delivered, the —”

The force of Medusa’s handle connecting with his cheek takes me by surprise; I didn’t think I had the strength.

The satisfying sound of his cheekbones breaking fills the air, resonating like a sweet melody.

He looks at me with a gaze that feels as chilling as the stare of the devil.

“You’re a fucking sick bastard.” I spit on his face before detaching Miranda from the cross. She is trembling as I place the screwdriver in her hand. “Make a single mistake, and your head will become a mere remnant, detached from your body. Understood?”

She nods and sobs at the same time, which is really annoying.

You’re the most neglectful parents imaginable, subjecting your children to unimaginable torment, and yet you cower in fear for your own safety.

They are all fucking pathetic.

“W-what do you want me to do with it?”

“I want you to dig your mark there,” I point to the side of my nose, “and there,” I add, gesturing towards my right cheek. “And you better penetrate deep.”

The sound of her hysterical sobs fills the air, punctuated by the repeated shaking of her head in refusal.

I’m so done with them.

“I’m not asking,” I state, my grip on her arm tightening as I pull her towards him, the screwdriver almost touching his face.

“She won’t do it,” the asshole says. “She’s not got it in her to do it.”

Miranda’s fingers shake on the tool as she leans closer, the screwdriver brushing against Jayden’s cheek.

“Now,” I order. “My patience is long gone.”

She keeps crying but does as she is told.

Jayden pulls on the chains, but he’s not going anywhere. Those babies are so tight I can see them cut into his skin.

I stay close, observing with satisfaction as she firmly presses the tool against his cheek, its sharp tip scratching the surface before she increases the pressure, causing blood to trickle down from his cheek.

Jayden remains silent, opting to grit his teeth instead of screaming.

This is really disappointing.

“You can do better. I don’t see any flesh yet.”

Robert gasps, causing me to quickly turn my head and look at him.

“Do not worry. Your turn is coming as well,” I warn him. Bringing my focus back to Miranda, I continue. “You better go harder. I don’t have all night for this.”

Which is true. The guys are not here, but I have no idea how long their mission will take.

Miranda clenches the screwdriver tightly in her hands as she forcefully digs it deeper into the skin, causing Jayden to let out a piercing scream of pain this time.

About fucking time.

She keeps going, again and again, her screams blending with Jayden’s as her hands become stained with blood.

“The nose, now.”

This time, she tackles the pattern with unwavering determination, completing it in a single, fluid motion.

Finishing her task, she breathes heavily and retreats, dropping the tool onto the ground with a clatter.

I clutch the screwdriver and guide her back to the cross, where I chain her tightly once again.

“How do you feel?” I ask her. “Good?” I walk towards Jayden, his tears mingling with the blood on his face as they cascade down his cheeks. “Because I feel fucking great.” I bend down and feel the warmth of his blood on my fingertips as I touch his wound. He winces in pain, his face contorting with agony, but this is nothing compared to the anguish he inflicted on Kale. “That’s not even that bad. Stop moaning for nothing.”

“Fuck. You,” he rages.

I spit on his cheek before wiping away the blood, wanting to inspect the injury.

“Oh, I’m actually really impressed. I can see your flesh. Or is it your muscles? Only one way to find out.”

I dig my finger into the wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep between my fingers as I tug on it, causing his skin to rupture with a resounding crack.

With two fingers beneath his skin, I pull on it with force, feeling the resistance as it fights against my touch.

My focus is unwavering as I pull harder, and I can distinctly hear the sound of his skin cracking as a portion of his cheek tears away.

His screams abruptly cease, a pity really, as he’s on the verge of passing out.

“I’m not done with you yet. But I’ll give you some time to rest.”

Walking towards Miranda and Robert, I can see the shock on their faces and tears streaming from their eyes.

“C’mon now. We’re having so much fun.”

With a steady hand, I retrieve the knife from my Docs, its sharp edge glinting in the flame, and unclasp Bart 2.0 from my choker, its cool metal against my skin. Then, I unchain one hand of each of them.

I hand them my knives, ensuring they have a firm grip before flattening their hands on the ground.

“Did you know Jayjay cut his son’s pinky finger to teach him a lesson?” Their eyes widen simultaneously as they comprehend the direction of my thoughts.

I sit in front of them, feeling the sticky warmth of blood on my hand as I wipe it with my top.

My hand instinctively reaches for my mouth, only to find that my liquorice stick has mysteriously disappeared.

Where the hell did I put it?

“I’m not going to cut anything,” Robert says frantically.

Hey, I’m in the middle of a crisis here. Where the hell is my liquorice?

“Afraid you don’t have any say in that.”

Once again, I reach into my bra to retrieve another licorice.

I really hope I took more than two.

“Or maybe we could play a game,” I suggest, clapping in my hands. “Let’s call it ‘Never Have I Ever’ and reveal our deepest secrets. If you did, you have a dare.” They look at me as if I lost my mind.

Babes, I lost it long ago.

“I’ll start. Never Have I Ever stooped so low as to send my son a message suggesting he take his own life and that he is unlovable. Oh, but wait, you did. I dare you to cut off each other’s pinky.”

They both glance at Jayden, who’s completely passed out, probably cursing him out, but they brought it upon themselves.

“Chop chop. Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he is well looked after.”

I pull on my liquorice before enticingly waving it in front of them.

“You played, you lost, I won. Don’t be sore losers.”

Again, those cries. This is really beginning to annoy me.

Their hands shake as they place the knife on the top of each pinky, but my voice unexpectedly makes them jump.

My bad.

“I forgot the jar.”

Disregarding their gaze, I hastily get to my feet, snatch the jar, and plop back down where I was. I position the jar beside me and then tuck my knees against my chest, leaning my head against them.

“That’s for your fingers,” I explain, and their crying becomes even more intense. “For fuck’s sake, stop whining like little bitches.”

Reluctantly, they press the blunt knives against their fingers, but the blades barely make a dent in their skin.

“I’m really disappointed, Miranda,” I mutter with a mouthful of sweetness as I savour the last bite. “I thought I taught you something, but apparently, you’re a slow learner.”

Standing up once more, I grab my bag and reach into it to retrieve a bottle of whisky. Maybe this will motivate her.

“Let’s make a deal. You cut, you drink.” I brandish the bottle in front of her. “What do you say?” I glance at Robert and notice him nervously licking his lips.

I guess that motivates both of them because they both apply the knives with force this time, causing their screams to merge in harmony with the excruciating pain.

It’s fascinating what an addiction can do to you.

“Harder.”

Their pain reaches such a peak that they can no longer continue, stopping abruptly in their tracks.

Disappointing.

I guess I’ll have to finish the job.

I reach into my bag and pull out Eli’s pack of cigarettes, then I light one.

I watch in awe as the candlelight dances across their faces, casting a soft glow amidst the swirling smoke of the cigarette, lending a hauntingly beautiful aura to their pain.

As I take the bottle in my hand, I stand up and lean forward, feeling its cool surface against my palm.

“The blood coming out of you is not enough.”

Robert’s eyes light up when he sees me bringing the bottle closer to them, but instead of giving it to him, I close their two hands and pour a large amount of it on their wound.

Their scream is the one of an animal while they fight my grip to remove their hands from my grasp.

“Stay quiet, or you won’t have any. You didn’t think I'd hand you the bottle to numb your pain before finishing what you failed to do, did you? You should know better by now.”

I let their cries surround me for a few seconds as I continue to pour the alcohol on their open wound. It’s as if I can see smoke coming out from it with the burn.

It’s really fascinating.

I place the bottle near them and watch as they grimace in pain, but Robert is the first one to compose himself while it takes some time for Miranda, but once she does, I observe as they eagerly fight for it.

Robert’s hand swiftly snatches it, prompting me to seize the abandoned knife and carefully place the bottle in his chained hand.

Without wasting any time, I grab his free hand and forcefully flatten it on the ground before pressing the knife against his pinky.

With a deep breath, he takes a large swig of whisky, bracing himself for what he knows is about to unfold.

I think I’ve been nice, allowing them to have a last sip before dying.

The sound of his breaking bone echoes loudly, accompanied by his agonising screams, as I cut through his flesh, muscles, and bone.

The pain he’s feeling is only a minuscule fraction of the agony my Angel was subjected to.

I feel his warm blood seeping through my fingers as I continue to push the knife, determined to break every last bone.

I tilt my head to glance at Jayden, and to my surprise, he’s awake.

With a twisted grin, I take a drag of my cigarette that has been waiting for me in my other hand, feeling the smoke fill my lungs and release the knife before forcefully yanking on the finger, relishing in the sickening sound of his flesh tearing while keeping my gaze on Jayden.

“Miranda, love. I’m afraid it’s your turn.”

She quickly grabs the bottle from her unconscious husband’s hand and takes a long gulp.

The repetitive process continues as I cut through her pinky, with Robert’s finger remaining pressed against the knife.

She can cry as much as she wants. That won’t change the outcome.

I’m fiercely protective of what is mine, and she touched one of them.

Once I’m done, I carefully place the two fingers into the jar and observe as they quickly lose consciousness.

Shame.

“Jayjay,” I stand up but don’t wipe the blood from my hand this time. “Shall we continue?”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.”

“Hmm,” I muse, “I was genuinely worried that your speech would be impaired without the skin covering your cheek.”

“Fuck you.”

“I will. Once we’re done.”

I approach the flickering candles resting on the side of the mausoleum, their warm glow illuminating the surrounding darkness. I gather some papers and at the entrance with the candle in hand.

If the boys knew what I’m about to do, they'd definitely not be happy about it.

Especially since I’m doing this inside the mausoleum, but it’s raining outside. I have no other choice.

I’m not crazy. I made sure to tightly seal off the small area to prevent the fire from spreading.

I gather some dry pieces of wood from the entrance and feel their rough texture before lighting them with the flame of the candle.

I take a minute to admire the flames dancing in front of me before turning back and grabbing the pot.

Jayden’s eyes are fixed on me, anticipation evident as he anticipates his fate.

He should have thought about it before.

I carefully place the pot over the flame, and the smell of burning wood begins to fill the room.

“Jaydennnn,” I sing. “It’s comiiiing.”

I’ve learned that the pot doesn’t require much time on the flame; Eli’s tool would become searingly hot within a brief second.

Removing it carefully with kitchen gloves, I walk back towards Jayden, and he doesn’t look happy.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just giving you a sample of the bitter medicine you’ve been dishing out.”

I hastily place the pot on the ground and swiftly rip his shirt apart, causing buttons to scatter in every direction before snatching the pot back.

He protests and strains against his chains, but I deny him the opportunity to speak or even catch his breath.

As the burning pot touches his chest, a primal scream escapes his lips, raw and filled with human agony.

“It’s painful, isn’t it? You didn't think of that when you were doing it to your eight-year-old son.”

I press the pot harder against his chest, the acrid smell of burning skin assaulting my nostrils.

It’s disgusting, like this piece of shit.

As I lift the searing pot from his skin, it adheres stubbornly as though his flesh has turned to liquid.

“Melted flesh suits you. Shall we continue? I really want to add your finger to my collection.”

His eyes, swollen with pain, struggle to stay open, but he doesn’t deserve any rest.

I grab Bart 2.0, which I carefully placed on the side, and grin.

“Do you think your son will like his gift? You know, you really fucked him up. He thinks his OCD is a disease, but it’s not. He’s just taking back what you took from him.”

His current condition doesn't allow him to speak, but I know he hears everything I’m saying.

“You should be proud.” I keep going. “He has a dream catcher-like thingy where he displays all the fingers he collected over the years. I think yours should be the central piece once I’m done with you.”

I bring the knife to his pinky, effortlessly slicing through it like a hot knife through butter.

Bart 2.0 is really sharp.

I am acutely aware of the sensation of his skin being sliced, his tendons stretching, and his muscles contracting.

I cut through it all, my ears attuned to every sound he’s making. Sounds that a young Kai probably made.

He was so young, and he did that to him.

I feel like what I’m doing is falling short of giving him the justice he truly deserves.

I want to burn him alive.

All of them.

The intensity of my rage surpasses anything I had ever experienced, even the one I have towards my paternal.

None of them deserve to live.

All I see is red, reminiscent of the chaotic mess I made, with blood covering every inch of me.

With a final push, I sever the last piece, feeling a sudden release as the finger falls away.

I push away the strands of hair that cling to my face and wipe the beads of sweat trickling down my forehead, but all I feel is the warmth of the blood spreading across my face.

Great.

My heart thumps with such intensity from the adrenaline that it feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.

I have so much anger in me.

As I lean back, I take in the sight of all three of them, completely unconscious.

Fucking waste of air.

With my knife still in hand and the severed finger clutched tightly, I’m abruptly startled by the sound of voices.

“What’s happening here?”