Page 2

Chapter

One

TARA

H eavy breathing fills the air as I open the door and enter the massive room.

The moonlight streaming through the broken windows is the only light source, but I can still see the three individuals waiting for me.

I step over a small pile of broken bricks, and my boot crunches on the gravel strewn all over the concrete floor.

My eyes never leave the three figures.

Two are standing towering over the third.

A sinister smile pulls at my lips even though no one will be able to see it.

“Please let me go.” The voice of the man who is cowering on the floor echoes around the room, dripping in desperation and pain.

After a few more steps, I insert myself right between the two men, who are ready to end this filth with me.

My shoulders brush theirs, as we are all the same height.

The aura surrounding them heightens my joy in what we are about to do.

I hold up the lantern I’ve been carrying, and the guy I only know as Kane lights the wick inside.

The yellow light casts a small glow around us.

I sit it down on the stack of metal beams and look back to the man on the floor.

“Isn’t that the same thing your victims said, but you refused to listen to them.” My voice is even and calm, as if I’m having a normal conversation instead of talking to someone who isn’t leaving this room alive.

“I don’t–”

Van, the man on my left, rears back and lands a solid kick to the man’s stomach.

“We have already told you there is no need to deny anything. We know who you are and what you have done.”

The man cries out in pain and rolls over, clutching his stomach.

His clothes are covered in dirt and debris.

His blond hair is shaved close to his head, and his face is streaked with tears.

Both of his eyes are almost swollen shut, his nose is crooked, and his lip is busted.

He must have put up a fight when Van and Kane found him.

I wish I could have seen it, but I was running late.

I squat down, assuming the guy’s vision isn’t the best, and I want him to see my face.

“You thought that attacking women down on their luck would mean that they would keep their mouths shut. That no one would believe them. Well, the police might not believe a bunch of sex workers, but luckily for your victims, I’m not the police.”

“W… who are you?” He coughs, and blood splatters on his chest. His coloring has gone extremely pale, and his skin has a slight sheen.

My best guess is internal bleeding, but that’s the least of his worries.

“Your worst nightmare,” I say, standing up.

Turning toward Kane, I say, “Set up the camera. Van, be a doll and get the light from my car. I’m going to need a little more light in here.”

They listen and start doing what I instructed.

I’m running this show even though they have a personal stake in tonight’s outcome.

I turn back to the man who is really struggling to breathe.

“Let me tell you what I know before I tell you what is going to happen to you. Your name is Daniel McCleary, thirty-five, unmarried, no children–thank god for that. You work in the mail room at Barron Enterprise, or should I say worked, because you sent in your resignation letter an hour ago. Your parents are both dead, and your younger brother has nothing to do with you. Now, I’m only guessing here, but I assume he can sense that you are a depraved individual. He doesn’t want you around his daughter, and who can blame him.

“A month ago, you—for whatever sick reason—decided that picking up prostitutes wasn’t enough.

You decided to take it a step further, and when Alisha didn’t want to take part in your twisted fantasy of pain over pleasure, you didn’t take no for an answer.

That was your first taste of it, and you became addicted.

Since her, you have raped four other women.

They couldn’t go to the police because they would get in trouble.

You banked on that and thought you would never be caught.

But what you didn’t see coming is me.

” I watch him as I lay out his life and dirty deeds before him.

I can’t tell if he is flinching in pain from his wounds or from what I’m saying, but I don’t care.

“Alisha is the one who stumbled across me and the services I offer. You see, I am the savior sent to help those who can’t get justice through traditional means. I stalk, hunt, and eliminate people like you. People like the men who hurt me.”

Kane and Van are back and have everything set up perfectly, just like I want it.

“Now, before we start the show, let me introduce you to these fine gentlemen. Meet Kane and Van,” I say, pointing to them when I say their name.

“Kane happens to be the brother of Alisha, your first victim, and Van here; well, he is the new boyfriend of your last victim, Karla. The one who was smart enough to look in your wallet while you were too busy cleaning up in the bathroom before she ran from the room. When Alisha stumbled across my ad, she told me that her brother had a plan, but she was worried about him going to prison.”

Daniel must have found a second wind because he spits blood at my feet.

“You all will go to prison for this.”

I hold out my hand to stop Kane from moving forward.

I pull the switchblade from my pocket, lean down, and plunge it into Daniel’s stomach.

Daniel cries out and tries to pull back, but I keep him close with a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s where you’re wrong. No one is going to see the inside of a prison cell. Not us and definitely not you.”

I leave my blade in him, stand up, and walk behind him.

I grab the rope that is lying behind him.

Van has already tied it in a noose.

“Hold him,” I say toward the guys, and they move quickly, grabbing Daniel and making him kneel.

I slip the noose over his head and tighten it around his neck.

Using my hold on the rope, I pull his head back, his face aiming straight at the camera.

“Don’t,” Daniel says weakly.

His air is being cut off by the rope.

He starts to struggle against Van and Kane, but he grows weaker by the second.

“Alisha, Karla, Lux, Gwynne, and Ivy. You will never have to live another second in fear that this sick bastard is coming back. Right here, right now, I am fulfilling my promise to you. That I will get you the justice you deserve. While I can’t take the pain that this motherfucker inflicted on you, I can give you the peace of mind knowing that he is no longer able to hurt another innocent.”

Without another word, Kane lets go of Daniel, leaving Van to hold him.

Daniel is close to passing out, so he is not putting up a fight.

Kane comes around and takes hold of the rope as I move back in front of Daniel.

I pull my blade from his stomach and move to his side, where I place it against his throat and push it in all the way.

I’ve sharpened it to the point that the tendons, muscles, and veins give away like butter when I slice open his neck.

Blood splashes everyone, but no one moves as we watch Daniel’s life drain from his body.

Once Daniel is dead, the cleanup starts.

Kane goes and pulls his truck up to the bay doors.

Van helps him load Daniel’s body in the back and covers him with a tarp.

They bring in a power washer, and we hose down all the blood and bodily fluids left behind.

We each take a gas can and dump them inside the building.

They load up the camera and light while I gather the rope.

“I’ll take his body to my farm and feed him to the pigs,” Kane says, and I offer him nothing but a nod.

“I’ll show the girls this,” Van says, holding up the camera.

“And then I will destroy it along with the rope and his clothes.”

“Great doing business with you,” I say, pulling out a match, striking it against the side of the box and throwing it to the ground.

I turn around and head back toward my car.

Van hollering for me to wait makes me pause and turn back toward them.

“Thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, seriously, thank you,” Kane says, standing beside Van.

“No problem. Take care of the girls, and you know where to find me if you need anything.”

Nothing else is said as we get into our own vehicles and move on with our lives.

My time in this town is up, and it’s time to move on.

I stop a mile down the old, abandoned road and pull over.

I strip off my blood-soaked clothes and gloves, then clean my face with the wipes I keep in the car.

I wrap the clothes and gloves in a black trash bag and shove them in the duffle bag in my back seat.

I know the perfect way to get blood out by now.

It’s pushing two in the morning, but I’m so amped up on adrenaline that I decide to drive for a couple more hours before crashing.

I like driving at night; there is less traffic, and the darkness has become my comfort place.

I used to be different.

I loved being the center of attention.

I loved going out during the day, socializing, and using any excuse to be seen by as many people as possible.

But not now. Now, I’d rather sleep the day away and do everything under the cover of the night for many reasons, but the main one is because I’m supposed to be… DEAD.