Page 36

Rachel

I’m going to stay here a bit longer. Maybe take some painkillers and try to get a nap.

As predicted, Dante video called me as soon as he got my text message. I’d prepared for this and had quickly run my hair under the shower so he could see that it was wet, and had sat on the sofa, waiting for his call.

I pressed answer, smiling as I said hello.

“Show me the room, Rachel,” Dante said immediately, not bothering to say hello back.

“Really?” I said with a heavy sigh, rolling my eyes so hard, I was scared I was going to go blind.

“Show me the room. Crash is on the phone to Vienna as we speak. Unless you want a minimum of five angry bikers turning up to the house in the next ten seconds, show me the fucking room.”

“Fine!” I snapped, getting up and twirling the camera around, showing him the entire room.

“I’m on my own, as you can see. I wasn’t coerced into sending that message.

I’m not being held hostage. I have, however, been burnt up and down the length of my arms, and they’re beginning to sting just a wee fucking bit. I just want a nap, Dante. That’s all.”

“Go to the next room,” he demanded, ignoring everything I had said.

“Oh, this is fucking ridiculous!” I huffed but did exactly as I was told.

“Here’s the kitchen, Mein Fuhrer. As you can see, it’s devoid of bad guys.

But hang on, I’ll open the fridge, just in case.

Ahh, empty. What a surprise. And over here, you’ll find the downstairs bathroom. Let me open the door.”

“A commentary wasn’t needed.”

“Neither was a tour of your own house, but that’s exactly what’s happening.

Shut up and listen. Here’s the bathroom.

Also, empty. Shocker. Give me two seconds.

I’m going to walk over here. Oh, what’s this suspicious-looking door?

” I said with a gasp. “Let me open it all dramatic. Gotcha!” I shouted as I swung the door open.

“No, my bad. That coat closet appears to be empty as well. Whatever next?” I asked, spinning the camera around.

“Oh, I know! Let’s check the bar at the back.

The bad guys may have needed some Dutch courage. ”

“I get the picture. You can stop now.”

“Are you sure? Or do you want me to do upstairs, too?”

“I don’t get why you’re being pissy, Rachel. You said you were coming back, and then suddenly you weren’t. I was concerned.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m okay,” I said, my heart beating in my chest. Was I actually about to get away with this?

“Okay. Just… be careful, okay? If you see anything suspicious, ring me immediately. Or ring Vienna and then ring me. Anything at all, Rachel, okay?”

“I will! Now will you piss off so I can get some sleep in peace?”

“I’m not comfortable with you sleeping alone. Crash!” He said, raising his voice. “Tell Vienna to go round and stay there whilst she sleeps.”

“No!” I barked, seeing my plan crumble before my eyes. “I don’t want him here. I don’t want anyone here. If it makes you feel better, have him watch the house. But I don’t want him inside annoying me.”

“He can hear you, you know?”

“It’s nothing I wouldn’t say to his face,” I grinned back.

“Fine,” Dante said with a heavy sigh. “But I’m telling him to come and sit on his bike right outside.”

“Fine.”

Not fine.

Shit.

When I hung up on Dante, I went into the dining room and inspected the scene before me.

Macbeth was spreadeagled on the dining table, his hands and feet secured by ropes tied to the table legs. And let me tell you, it wasn’t an easy fucking job getting him up there in the first place.

He was completely naked, his body beginning to show signs of bruising in places where it wasn’t covered with tattoos. I looked at the tools I had placed on the chairs and knew there was nothing left to do other than wake the sleeping beauty.

“Rise and shine,” I sang, grabbing the jug of ice water and poured it over his face, causing him to cough and splutter.

“What the fuck!” He croaked, straining against the ropes as his head shook from side to side to avoid the water.

“Try not to speak,” I said in the same sing-song voice. “We wouldn’t want you drowning before we’ve had our fun!” I poured another jug over him, just for shits and giggles.

I grabbed the pair of underwear I found in the wash basket and shoved it into his mouth before he could say another word.

“I was planning on letting you speak, but you know Dante. He’s as protective as ever.

He has men outside, so I can’t have you making too much noise,” I said, patting his cheek.

“Those are your dad’s pants in your mouth, by the way.

I got them from the wash basket. I’ll leave you with that thought.

I’ll be right back,” I told him, heading out of the dining room and over to the window at the front of the main room.

I looked outside and saw Vienna sat there on his motorbike, just like he had promised.

As though he could sense me watching him, his head turned to the side, looking straight at me. I gave him a small wave, and he returned my gesture by sticking his middle finger up at me.

I shook my head, grinning at his petty actions, and let the curtain drop from my hand as I went back to the dining room.

“Right,” I said, closing the door behind me. “We haven’t got long. So, I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. All you have to do is nod or shake your head, understood? The more cooperative you are, the less stabby I will have to be.”

I went over to him and picked up a large knife.

“First question. Are you alone?”

He locked eyes with me and didn’t bother answering.

“I had a feeling you were going to be silent. I can practically read your thoughts. You don’t think I have this in me, do you?

Is this evidence enough that I mean business?

” I said, stabbing the knife into his leg.

He screamed out in pain as I dragged the knife up his thigh and back down again in a small rectangle shape, peeling off the skin I had just sliced.

I flicked the skin on to the floor, laughing at the way the veins in his neck protruded as he screamed into the material in his mouth.

“I’ll ask one more time. Are you alone?”

He didn’t answer me again.

Macbeth’s breath was coming out of his nose in huge puffs, nostrils flaring as tears sprang to his eyes

“Look,” I sighed, grabbing the salt. “Since you’ve aligned yourself with Alex’s brother, let me show you one thing they used to do to me to get me to do as I was told.

” I poured the salt over his wound, watching his face as it turned bright red, then deathly pale, then red again as he screamed once more.

“Salt is what our nerves use to function,” I say brightly as he hissed through the pain.

“When you pour salt on a wound, it artificially triggers the nerves, especially exposed ones. It forces them to send messages to the brain, asking what the fuck is going on. Your brain responds by defaulting to pain. Sometimes it can make you sick. But looks like your lovely little brain is going straight down the pain route. Final time Macbeth. Are. You. Alone?”

He nodded his head slowly.

“Good. Very good. You’re learning. Next question. Were you to blame for the explosives last night?”

I didn’t wait for his answer. I slammed the knife into his other thigh and cut off a similar sized piece of skin. His back arched in pain, and spit flew out of the sides of his mouth. I poured more salt on that wound and then repeated my question.

He nodded his head.

“Were you aware that Bee was the only one to be really injured?”

His eyes went wide, followed by a flash of dread.

“Well?”

He shook his head.

I stabbed the knife into his dick, leaving it embedded there.

His entire body thrashed on the table, his screams loud and clear despite the underwear gagging him.

I hurried out of the room and looked out of the window.

Luckily, the garden path was quite long, the house was big, with the dining room being right at the back, and Vienna seemed occupied by something on his phone. But if Macbeth carried on screaming like this, it wouldn’t take long until we were noticed.

I locked the door, just in case, before I went back in the room to see Macbeth panting as his entire body started to shake.

I grabbed another knife off the chair and looked down at him.

“Are the Riders planning another attack?”

He shook his head.

“Are you lying to me?”

He shook his head frantically, his eyes pleading with me to believe him.

“Good,” I said, bringing the knife to his chest and stabbed it through the club patch he had on the front of his right shoulder.

I carved my knife around it, cutting off the inked skin, and threw that on the floor with the others.

His screams were louder, but I focused on my task, ignoring the piercing sound.

I brought the salt up, and he tried to speak through his gag, attempting to pull his body away from me.

“Where is it you think you’re able to go?” I laughed, bringing the tub of salt high into the air and pouring it down onto him.

“Stop!” I hissed, pinching his nose to cut off his breathing and to try to put an end to the pitiful noises he was making. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body slamming up and down on the table as it jerked in shock.

“Stop fucking screaming, and I’ll let go. Understood?” I hissed, letting go ever so slightly, but ready to tighten my grip again if he hadn’t listened.

The screaming stopped, but the small sobs didn’t.

The sobs I could handle. The sobs wouldn’t alert Vienna.

“Last question.”

His pathetic eyes looked up at me.

“Have you heard of death by a thousand cuts?” I grinned wickedly and then set about creating my work of art.

Inch by inch, I sliced off his skin. A small cut to his upper arm, a long slice down his belly. More cuts along his chest, slices to his groin, biceps, thighs, calves.

The pile of skin on the floor grew larger, as the skin covering Macbeth’s body got smaller .

His screams were deafening at this point, and I knew without checking that Vienna would be well aware that something was going on.

I grabbed Macbeth’s wrist and placed his hand flat on the table and used the knife to slice straight through his fingers. I grabbed a lighter and cauterised the wounds, the smell of burning flesh making me gip.

Vomit spilled from the side of Macbeth’s gag, so I pulled the underwear from his mouth and tipped his head to the side, using the blade of the knife to scoop the vomit from his mouth, not caring how much I sliced him open as I did so.

His lips were a colourful mix of blood, vomit and spit as I made my way around to his other hand. Just as I was about to slam it on the table, I heard the pounding at the front door.

“Rachel!” Vienna barked, trying the handle and slamming his fists on the glass.

“Shit!” I hissed, flattening Macbeth’s hand on the table and sliced off those fingers too.

I could hear Vienna slamming his body against the door, sending it crashing open on the third attempt. His heavy boots could be heard even over the wailing screams of Macbeth.

“Looks like the fun's over, brother ,” I almost spat the last word at him. At that moment, the door to the dining room was booted open, and Vienna stumbled back for a second. I used his shock to my advantage, positioning the knife over Macbeth’s heart, and rammed it into him as hard as I possibly could.

Vienna recovered from his shock just as I pulled the knife out.

He came rushing over, pushing the chairs out of the way.

I quickly slammed the knife back into Macbeth’s chest. Blood splashed out of the wound, landing on me, the table, the floor.

I twisted the knife left, and then right, pushing down even further as I did so.

Vienna reached me, grabbing me by the waist as he tried to pull me away.

“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed, clinging to the knife as though my life depended on it. Macbeth’s body convulsed on the table, his eyes going wide with shock, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Vienna picked me up, forcing me to let go of the knife that had grown slippery with the blood .

“You fucking psychotic little bitch!” He hissed at me, hauling me with such force as he twisted our bodies away from Macbeth that I ended up stumbling out of his arms and crashed into the wall.

“Mate,” he said down the phone. I hadn’t even realised he’d dialled the fucking thing. “Come and get your little hellcat…”

I took advantage of his distraction and lunged at Macbeth once more, grabbing the knife from his dick.

Vienna saw me out of the corner of his eye and dropped the phone, wrestling me to the floor and pinned my arms down, holding them above my head by the wrists.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dante yelled down the phone.

“Just get home!” Vienna yelled back, not risking letting go of my wrists for even a second.

I launched my head up, trying to headbutt him. I twisted my neck and tried to bite his hands. I jerked my hips, trying to throw him off me. Nothing worked.

“I have Rachel pinned to the fucking floor and I’m on top of her. If that doesn’t bring you home, how about this? She’s only gone and fucking murdered Macbeth.”