Page 49 of Purgatory (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #1)

Earl bends his knees to peer down at me. His meaty hand grabs my chin roughly, moving my face back and forth, analyzing the damage he created like an artist critiquing a painting. While still looking at me, he indicates to the guys holding me.

“Flip her over and get those pants off. Leave ‘em by her ankles for all I care. She’s gonna learn there’s only one thing she’s good for.” He reaches for his belt and moves behind me as the other guys follow his commands.

I struggle with each of them. Kicking out as best as I can while still being restrained, biting, flailing my body back and forth.

Moving in any way I can to avoid what can almost be seen as inevitable at this point.

But I will not go down without a fight. These fucks will know I will not take this willingly.

They get me into position and I feel so powerless that I let out a deafening scream. A scream for help. A scream of frustration. A scream for everyone that is close enough to hear my pain and know it intimately.

Earl moves closer, his hands gliding up my bare thighs to my hips before he jerks them up awkwardly. My head remains on the cold, concrete floor, pushed down by Sam’s rough hands, one on my scalp, the other between my shoulder blades.

There’s nothing I can do. My legs and wrists are still bound. I’m overpowered by these four large guys. There’s no way I'm getting out of this. The defeat is soul-crushing. Overwhelming. I’ll never be the same after this. I do the only thing I can at the moment. I wring out the words through a sob.

“You’re going to hell for this! Fuck you, you fucking bastards! Your souls will burn and fry! There will be no redemption from this! There--”

All of a sudden, the sound of glass shattering takes over.

The guys holding me down look up and step away from me, each drawing weapons and aiming them toward the staircase.

I don’t know what to expect so I just curl into a ball and try to slink away to a nearby wall.

My captors don’t seem to notice, keeping their eyes trained on the door leading upstairs.

After a few minutes of silence, another glass breaks upstairs followed by the sound of an engine turning over, revving again and again.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my adrenaline heightens even more when the sound of gunshots rings out in the night and another vehicle goes screaming away from the house.

Earl turns and signals to two of his guys to go up and check it out.

“Fuck you, boss, I’m not going up there right now! Let the others handle it for once.” This guy looks like he’s been air lifted straight off of a river deep in the Bayou off of the Deliverance movie set. Banjo playing bastards, heebie-jeebies, all that shit. Earl turns to him with fire in his eyes.

“You’ll get your hide up there or I'll stick a metal rod up your ass and use it as an antenna to direct you like a damn RC car,” he commands.

The stare down between them seems to last minutes but eventually the two Cajun dudes each nod and make their way up the stairs and through the house.

I can hear their footsteps as they walk around.

The dust from their footfalls drifting down to me indicating their movements.

I track them until they quickly move out of the house to the front lawn.

Whoever is here, it’s no one they were expecting.

The thought gives me hope. I might have a chance after all.

Renewed with energy, I turn and try to struggle out of my bindings again.

Sam and Earl must not notice since I'm behind them and being too focused on whatever the fuck is going on upstairs and outside, that I manage to finally loosen the bindings around my ankles enough that my legs free themselves. I pull up my pants and look around quickly for anything I can use as a weapon. Luckily for me, there’s enough tools in here that I have my pick of the litter.

I choose something that I’m more closely acquainted with.

I don’t have my trusty baseball bat with me, who knows where that thing is at this point, but I do have the closest thing to it that I can find right now: a small sledge hammer.

Or maybe it’s a mallet? It’s metal, boxy and looks, I don’t know, beefy?

Who the fuck knows? I certainly don’t. And I definitely don’t care either.

A bonk to the head is a bonk to the head.

It’s got some heft to it and I'm not going to complain if it gets me out of here. Plus, these guys have guns and I don’t. It’s time to go big or die trying.

I’m not a violent person by any means. I would hardly hurt a fly.

But when you’re face to face with assault, rape, death?

Self-preservation takes over. It's fight or flight, and I know damn well I can’t fly out of here any time soon.

Time to take matters into my own hands, literally.

Fuck these assholes. I’ll send them to hell myself.

They deserve my wrath and anything that comes with it .

Resolved, I move quickly, heading to closest man, Sam.

It all seems to happen in just a few seconds.

I lift the mallety-sledge hammer and bring it down hard on his head, crushing a huge dent in it and killing him instantly.

He goes down hard, blood spilling out of the remains of his skull as Earl turns and raises his weapon toward me before I can reach him.

I was fast, but not fast enough, it seems. I see his finger on the trigger and my impending doom.

Death will be better than what these guys were going to do to me.

At least I took one down with me. Refusing to close my eyes and cower, I stare him down.

Suddenly, three soft pops sound out as Earl jerks from the impact. His body falls to the floor, hitting with a reverberating loud thud.

I can’t move. I can’t take my eyes off of Earl’s lifeless body.

Fear paralyzes me. As if my body is taken over by some other force, slowly, my head turns towards the now open doorway at the top of the stairs.

Shock displays on my face as I see who it is.

My voice comes out in a whispered awe as tears cascade heavily down my cheeks.

“Jax?”