Page 133 of Pack of Crooks

Tristan shouts around the giant ball in his mouth, and the words fuck you are clear enough.

Kill slaps him again. The blood from his wounds drips from his face. “Shut up. I’m talking.” Kill takes a breath. “Right, as I was saying, I used to wonder, but then I realized, people like you only get off on one thing. Making other people hurt. So, I figure, why not repay you the favor?”

He slams his fist into Tristan’s gut so hard it forces the ball out of his mouth. It arches through the air, landing on the ground with a wet thwack.

Tristan sucks in a heavy breath, wheezing and glaring at the guys. “You’re going to let your boyfriend do this to me, Ezra? I treated you like a son,” Tristan shouts, spittle and blood flying through the air. “This is how you repay me?”

Kill growls. “You treated us like commodities.”

“I—”

Kill strikes, dragging the knife from Tristan’s chest down his shirt, pressing hard enough to split the material and his skin open. Flaying him as he screams. Urine puddles at Tristan’s feet. “I’m tired of you breathing,” Kill snarls. “You’ve done enough. Now, it’s your turn to know pain.”

“The gag,” Ezra says.

“Leave it. I changed my mind. I want to hear him scream.” Killian sets to work, creating graffiti style artwork on Tristan’s torso, seeming oblivious to the alpha who is whimpering and whining. Finishing, he nods and takes Maddox’s place, offering him the blade.

“And.” Tristan pants. “What. About. You?” He chokes on his own spit, coughing and groaning. “Huh? Nothing to say?” He winces in pain, but pushes through it. “Your mother?—”

Tristan doesn’t get to say another word. Where Kill made art, Maddox brings brutality to life with one vicious blow, slamming the tip of the blade between Tristan’s legs. The alpha chokes on his shout, entire face contorting in agony and a second later his head droops.

“No, no,” Maddox says, slapping him awake. “You don’t get to pass out for this.” Then he yanks the knife out of Tristan’s dick.

The sounds coming out of the alpha are barely human. There’s no sympathy to be found though. He deserves every ounce of pain he’s getting. The guys deserve to say their piece.

“You’re disgusting,” Maddox hisses. “This is for every person you’ve ever hurt.” He jams the knife into Tristan’s crotch again and twists.

“No, no, no,” Tristan whines, voice nasally and broken.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Maddox stabs him in the dick four times, hard and fast, mutilating him. It’s everything Tristan deserves and more. “Fuck you. Fuck. You. Fuck you. Fuck.” He slams the knife again. “You,” he seethes, entire body shaking with rage.

It’s hard to watch him hurt, but this is his moment, so I clench my fists and wait until he’s done with the alpha. Maddox sucks in a ragged breath and steps back, chest heaving with exertion, but he exhales long and slow, steadying himself before he flips the knife over and hands it to Ezra.

I pull Maddox into my arms, holding him while Ezra’s knuckles turn white around the handle of the dagger. He stands before his abuser, weapon clutched at his side, glaring at Tristan.

“Little Ezra,” Tristan taunts. “You don’t have the?—”

Ezra grabs his face, fingers digging into the wounds I’d left, and the pain is too much for Tristan to keep talking. He sobs, all that bravado from moments ago suddenly gone in the face of the wounds he’s collected.

Kill’s fingers link with mine. I pull him close and the three of us watch Ezra face him down.

“Everyone is going to hate you,” Ezra tells him, squeezing his face, making the cuts weep crimson. “And everything you’ve worked for is going to be ripped apart piece by fucking pieceuntil the only thing people think of when they hear the name Tristan Kain is that you’re a piece of shit.”

Tristan spits at Ezra, but he dodges it, tsking. “Now that was a fucking mistake,” the beta growls, jamming the blade into Tristan’s side. There are so many stab wounds it’s only a matter of minutes before he passes out from blood loss. He’s a dying man.

Ezra twists the knife. “You are a vile.” He twists some more. Tristan starts to sob again. There’s only so much a body can take. “Useless.” Another twist. “Excuse of oxygen.”

“Please,” Tristan whines, the word barely intelligible with how he shakes and cries.

“You don’t get to beg,” Ezra growls. “Not when I did, when we all did, and you just stood there and let it happen.”

“Plea—”

“Fuck you,” he growls, striking hard and fast, jamming the blade up between Tristan’s ribs, bringing his face inches from the alpha’s. “Fuck. You,” he growls again, shoving even harder.

Whatever strength Tristan’s body had evaporates, his knees collapse and Ezra shoves him over, the alpha’s body landing with a final and deadlythud. The knife juts out from his ribs and blood pools around him.

I wrap my arms around Ezra, hugging him tight. “Are you okay?”