Page 183 of Retribution

I can tell the water is freezing as some of it sprays back at me, and Ophelia cries out as Adira makes sure to give me a clean canvas by spraying the bitch with the hose as well. There’s a drain underneath the old cow where the rack holds her in place, which makes it easier to clean up.

I think turnabout is fair play in this instance, don’t you?

“All yours,” Adira calls out, putting the hose away.

“Thanks,” I say, returning to my place. “I think you told me once all omegas are created for getting shit stuffed into their holes, Ophelia. Let’s see how true that is.”

My hand pushes the button on the gag to give her a wider and uglier smile, and then shove the spiked bat into her cunt. Ophelia doesn’t stop screaming once as I continue to use the bat to fuck her with it, and I watch dispassionately as dark blood runs down her legs.

It’ll never be enough and I know it. If the demons will quiet even a little bit when I close my eyes at night, then it’ll be worth it.

“Use those muscles to push out the bat,” I taunt her. “You had a baby, doesn’t that mean you can push out the spikes too?”

Her eyes are full of pain and loathing, but I’m nowhere near done with her. I break more bones as I stretch her across the rack, watching as her arms tear from their sockets. Leaving her in that position, I move to the branding part of my fun.

Opening the door, I smile at Grant who is standing outside. It’s been hours since we began, and the guys have pulled out furniture to hang out and talk.

“What do you need?” he asks, coming closer to me. “She’s not dead yet, because she’s making too much noise and the music is still going.”

Grant doesn’t say a word about how much blood I may or may not be wearing, which is a reminder that I was probably wearing more last night.

“I need fire so I can heat up my brands,” I explain. “I could just carve it into her, but?—”

“Fire is sometimes more fun,” he shrugs. I love how he doesn’t flinch from how depraved I can be. “I’m on it.”

He comes back with a propane torch while I put my brand together for my human canvas. I nod in thanks as I check my spelling. It would really suck to have it memorialized on Ophelia’s body misspelled.

I run the torch over the brand until the metal begins to dull and then lift the heavy handle and bring it over to Ophelia’s forehead to press it tightly against her skin. Ophelia seizes as I roll my eyes at her limitations, and I hope that she’ll hold out until I can cut her heart from her chest.

The only way to kill the vampire of sorrow who feeds from your trauma is to make sure it won’t come alive again, right?

The girls stare at the word as I lift the brand, and Wren smiles slightly. It saysTraitoracross it. I firmly believe that Ophelia is a traitor to her designation.

Placing the brand on the table, I begin to use my knives to mark up her body. I counted every cut on my inner thighs recently, and there are forty-three of them. So I cut and stab her the same amount of times, watching as the blood flows from her wounds.

Her arms and legs are stretched so far that I’m afraid the muscles may completely tear apart. While I wouldn’t normally care, I know that she probably wouldn’t live through that. Time to get moving.

Yanking the bat from her cunt, I enjoy the way it tears her insides. This is how you ruin someone’s ability to create life, while reminding them of every bad thing they’ve done. I’m notgentle, and there are large pieces of her insides that come loose along with the bat.

Dropping it to the side, my only regret is not using it on her asshole instead. The angle just isn’t right. Looking through the bag, I find a grenade and grin.

Turning down the music, I look around the room.

“I was going to cut her heart out, but I think I should crack open her chest and have the boys fish for the grenade’s pin,” I decide. “The first one who yanks it out wins an explosion.”

Quinn nods. “Evil can’t come back when it’s in a million pieces. The guys are competitive fuckers too. I need some water and a snack, I’ll tell the guys to go find some fishing poles.”

Wren gazes at me for a second, and I wonder what she’s thinking about before she comes over and hugs me tightly.

“You’re even better than therapy,” she whispers fiercely before letting me go.

The three of them leave me alone with Ophelia, and I think about how odd my life is. I don’t think I’ve ever made friends while killing before. I usually scare the shit out of people with the aftermath.

Maybe omegas really will save the world one day.

Washing my hands free of the blood with the sprayer, I also clean off Ophelia’s chest area so I can begin using the hand saw to open her chest. I’m grumbling to myself that she’s passing out again when Lucas walks into the room, surprising me.

“Grant said that he could feel that you’re frustrated. What’s wrong?” he asks, staying out of the bloodied areas as he gazes at me clinically.