Page 33 of Sadistic Retribution
I scream as he darts in, biting down hard on my arm. He pulls back, my blood covering his mouth and chin.
He licks his lips. “Prime meat.”
He pushes me, attempting to get me on the floor. Anger washes over me, and I swing, trying to punch him. To my surprise, it connects with his jaw. He laughs again, swooping in, knocking me down and pinning me on my back. He goes to sniff my neck again and bares his teeth.
Right before he tears my throat out, Skull comes back inside. “Get back, 9! That's an order.”
9 gnashes his teeth, growling like an animal. “Mine!”
Skull wastes no time breaking out the taser and takes the giant down.
“Go!” he yells to me, jerking his head toward the open door. He locks 9’s door, and barks at me, “Back to your cell.”
I comply, in too much shock to say anything.
“Good shot, 13. This should make things more interesting...” Skull mutters to himself.
I fall onto the floor of my cell, noticing the bowl of plain oatmeal and water beside it. I quickly eat, saving half of the water for later. I curl onto my side, the cold concrete making my aching body hurt even more.
I contemplate whether letting that foul man kill me would’ve been a good thing, or if it would’ve taken terrifyingly too long for me to die.
I just don’t care anymore.
Hunter
Jax leads me into the giant kitchen, where the other ZYGOS members are sitting and waiting. The kitchen is massive. There aren’t two, but three large, convection ovens and stovetops, three microwaves, two dishwashers, and two large, fancy refrigerators side-by-side. Everything is spotless stainless steel. There’s a huge table dead center, sitting at least twenty people easily. I didn’t even know they made kitchen tables this big. Plus a large island closer to the ovens, with stools pulled up all around it.
Jax claps his hands once, addressing the men sitting at the table. “Alright, everyone. I'd like to introduce our newest member, Harris. Stand up and introduce yourselves and tell him a bit about you.”
A lot of nods and heys go around the table. There are at least twenty men of various ages, eighteen to forty from looks alone. I already know some of them—Thor, Bill, and Trav included.
The one at the end closest to me stands up. “Hey, I’m Mav, or Maverick. The oldest here.” He’s a big, bulky guy, a bit shorter than me with a blonde buzzcut and intense eyes. I nod a hello. “I'm ex-military and have an affinity for pizza and literally anything off the grill. I listen to rock, mostly, but some rap once in a while.”
The guy at the far end stands. “I’m Dylan. The youngest.” He’s average height, slimmer build. Messy black hair with matching eyes. “I’m a metalhead through and through. I was a huge mosh pit fan—love to bash assholes faces in for blocking my view,” he laughs. “I finally got my ass tossed out for it.” I grew up part of a gang.” He shrugs, before sitting down.
The next guy stands up. “I’m Tyler. An ex-cop, one of those who wasn’t dirty. I was an honest guy, until I was pushed too far. I may or may not have killed a perp who was a woman-beater.” he smirks. He’s slim to the point of being skinny, but I can make out the outline of abs through his t-shirt. He has strawberry-blond, short hair, and light green eyes.
A beefy, fit guy stands up. He's got long blonde hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail. He has penetrating green eyes, and hard lines etched into his face. “Fight Club,” he starts off, and Bill bursts out laughing. He glares at him. “Since I was so rudely interrupted, I’ll continue. It was an illegal fighting ring. I was the champion, for five years running. I had no intentions of stopping. Then some asshole got us busted in a raid. Name’s Fist.”
A scary-looking guy goes next. He has stark-greyish-silver hair, and hard, black eyes. His bronzed, well-muscled skin stands out against the white shirt he’s wearing. “I’m Blade. Ex-hitman via your kindly United States government. Yep, - sanctioned by the freaking White House. Best advice I can give you is trust no one. Especially politicians.”
“My turn, I guess. I'm Black. Ex-CIA. I was the right-hand man to the last President. I couldn’t stand the guy; he’s a lying piece of shit. Still did my job, though. For a while, anyway...” He’s also on the taller side, with a wide nose and thin lips. Pretty standard short, combed back light brown hair. Nothing really stands out about him in the looks department.
As the introductions continued, there were some ex-FBI agents, an ex-Mexican drug cartel runner, and ex-informants for the various mobs out there.
Wow. These guys are all so vastly different, but I can appreciate the value each one brings to the team.
“Good to meet everyone,” I say.
“Tell them a bit of your background,” Jax urges.
“Well, I’m a former Navy SEAL, and a former gang member. I'm a therapist now.” Fucking Bill bursts out laughing. I cut him a look. “Fuck you, BILL.” Laughs ring out.
“Well, you definitely belong here with us,” Lee cracks up, tears rolling down his cheeks as he laughs.
I smile and shake my head.
“Okay, everyone get your chow, then back to work,” Jax orders.