Page 33 of Property of Brute & Axl
This has given Axl and me time to visit Chuck and his friends in The Grove. They’ve been tied up for 24 hours—enough time to think about what’s brought them to our attention.
“Trooper Bines,” I mock his former position.
Hanging my cut on a hook in a far corner, I reach back and pull off my shirt, placing it next to my leather. I crack my knuckles as I turn and eye the four men up and down from where they’re chained to rickety, old wooden chairs.
“It’s been a few years since I’ve beaten a man to death with my fists.” Keeping my voice low, I advance closer to the weakened men and watch carefully to gauge who will break their silence first. “I’m going to say a name, and you feel free to share with us what you know about her, yeah?” No response.
Crouching down, I stare into the eyes of the youngest man, who appears to have tears trickling down his cheek. “Finleigh Collins.” He gulps as the two words leave my mouth, the sound traveling around the room like the flow of blood dripping from a wound. My fist flies, and bone crunches, followed by groans of pain.
Holding the boy's head up, I ask, “She familiar to you?” Fear drains his face, and agony echoes in his eyes as he tries looking to his friends for help. None comes. Not for any of them.
“If you weren’t part of the group who attacked her, raped a pregnant woman, shot her, and left her for dead, the time to speak up is now,” Axl warns. They all jolt a little, except for Chuck, who sneers. “Got something to say, Trooper?”
“The bitch deserved it,” he spits out, earning a boot to the face from Axl. His broken nose sprays blood, and he whimpers but shuts up.
“Last. Chance.” My friend’s deadly tone convinces one of the others to speak.
“Spit it out.” He jumps at my snapped demand.
“We didn’t know she was pregnant. He didn’t tell us.”
I lose my shit and grip his face in my hands, squeezing until the bones in his jaw fracture, yet I still don’t stop. “That gives you the right to gang rape a fucking woman? Someone who’s only crime was trying to find some peace for a weekend? Are you fucking kidding me!” Roaring, I viciously slam his head back into the chair, and his neck snaps. Kicking over his dead body, the rest all stare, petrified.
Shifting to one of the men I have yet to touch, I get in his face. He whimpers like a pussy and tries to flinch away from my hot breath as I pant like a rabid wolf. “She is carrying our child.” His eyes widen, showing no remorse as I shove him backwards, his skull cracking off the ground.
Raising my booted foot, I slam it down onto his face, stomping until his head is mush. Blood and brains are splattered everywhere. I don’t stop until Axl pulls me back. The rage has overtaken my senses, and all I see is Finleigh lying in a ditch, dying, broken, bloody, and beaten.
Axl doesn’t say anything as he holds me back from delivering the same punishment to the remaining men because all I see is red—the color of our woman’s blood pooling around her body, draining her of life.
“She should be dead.” My throat is raw with those words. “But she’s stronger than you fools. She’s better, and she survived, and after tonight, she’ll never have to worry you’ll do to another woman what you did to her.”
Snarling, I lunge forward, breaking free of Axl’s clutch and tackling another fucker to the ground, pounding his face as the sounds of sobbing reach my ears. My knuckles are cracked, bruised, and at least two are broken. Pounding a skull into jelly will do that to a man, but I don’t fucking care. The pictures of Finleigh in that ditch play through my mind like an old film reel, stopping, catching, glitching, as they move one by one through my consciousness.
Two sets of hands grab at me now, dragging me back and away from the final two men I crave killing. They’ll never understand how badly I hunger for their deaths. Slammed against a wall, heaving out every breath, I’m more beast than man at this point as my body jolts forward, trying to return to kill the others.
“Don’t, man, we still need answers.” Axl’s heated breath in my ear merely fuels my rage. “Finleigh needs answers, man.” His lips against my skin halt my struggles as his words register in my mind.
Finleigh.
We’re here because of her. She’s the one who was harmed and seeks answers that only these two can provide. “Strip ‘em, hose ‘em down, leave ‘em for the night.” Ripping out of Axl and Viking’s arms, I grab my cut and dart outside, slamming the door behind me.
Trudging through the moist grass, I make my way to the fishing pond we maintain on the property, ignoring Axl calling my name as I step into the water. The heat from the scorching days keeps it warm and allows me to wash away the blood that coats my body like a second skin.
Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I dunk my entire body into the dirty water. My hands scrub through my hair, rinsing out any bodily fluids, and my knuckles sting with the burn of ripped-open skin. As I emerge from below the surface, Axl stands on the grass, questions in his eyes, but he remains silent, knowing better than to ask me anything right now.
Walking out of the water, I strip off my soaked boots and jeans, leaving my boxers in place as we quietly pad back to the clubhouse. Music blasts from the speakers outside, a fire roars, and members shoot the shit and drink as we pass. No one says a word upon seeing us, but the silence as we pass speaks volumes.
“She still asleep?” My question is directed at Demon and Izzy, sitting at the bar with Amber between them, rubbing on their bodies like a dog in heat.
“Haven’t heard a peep.” Izzy takes a swig of his beer, not giving me another look.
Ignoring everyone again, I tromp upstairs for an ice-cold shower to wash away the stench of death and the pond. Eyes immediately land on Finleigh when I enter the room. She’s huddled in the middle of the bed, wearing one of our shirts, fuzzy socks on her feet, a leg wrapped around a pillow, and out cold.
I continue forward until I’m in the shower stall, with the cold water turned on and my boxers down at my feet, before grabbing the bar of soap. Scrubbing my hair and body still doesn’t cool me off, so I turn off the water and reach for a towel. Rubbing my body down with the cotton material, my dick is at full mast and ready to fuck hard.
Finleigh has proven repeatedly that she can take the rough fucking we like and that she craves it just as deeply. There’s a stronger connection born from hurting each other into pleasure, and if I can’t kill those fucking assholes, then I need to pound into our woman’s pussy until she cries out for relief.
Exiting the bathroom, a surprise stops me cold as Finleigh is on top of Axl, slowly grinding her hips back and forth as his neck strains with pleasure. Her shirt is still on. Her head tossed back, messy, chocolate-brown hair cascading down her back, and her eyes are closed, lost in her movements.