Page 10

“S uch a pretty view to have while killing a man,” Remy murmurs, staring out the windows in her new kill room that overlooks Deadwood Peak. “Or woman, as the case may be.”

There’s a stillness about her that is reminiscent of the pre-Sinner Remy. The one who was shut down and closed off, barely letting me in. I’m not sure if we should be worried by that, or if what Saint suggested is true—maybe this is what needs to happen. Either way, I can’t help but be concerned by seeing the woman I’ve loved damned near my entire life retreat back into herself.

“I know we said we were going to do this, but?—”

Her dark glare whips my way. “But nothing. Don’t you even think about it, Grant.”

Looking over at Trip, I find his eyes darting between the two of us, watching the unfolding battle.

Remy’s eyes narrow. “Trip is not going to save you from this conversation.”

“We’re just under a shit load of scrutiny right now, Rem. You’re carrying a baby, and blood makes you vomit. I mean, the list of cons is pretty long.”

“You’re forgetting the biggest pro.” Her face is a blank mask that’s as eerie as it is familiar.

“What’s that?”

“The Avenging Angel making a reappearance will help clear the guys’ names and get them out of jail. It’s the fastest, most efficient way. We both know it.”

Her fingers twitch by her sides, and that’s when I realize I’ve also made another miscalculation. While the guys are the biggest motivating factor, something else is driving her just as hard.

My shoulders ease a tiny fraction, my voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Guess it also doesn’t hurt that you need something to stab.”

One corner of her plush lips curves upward, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sure. I might also have a tiny bit of aggression to work out.”

My sigh is pulled straight from my soul. I wish I could take that pain and that fury and that…all-consuming need from her so she never has to suffer from it again.

“I know what you’re thinking, Grant, but this is my burden to bear, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. We’ve talked about this.”

“Okay. Alright.” I throw my hands up, frustrated despite myself. “I’ll stop being a worry wart. Now, do you know where…”

“The toolkit is?”

“Yeah.”

She points toward the newly hung peg board that we haven’t had time to fill. “Sitting on the floor over there.”

I nod absently. “And what about the…”

“Documents with her list of transgressions?” Our eyes meet. “In the folder inside the bag with the toolkit.”

“How long until…”

“She wakes up?”

“Okay, it’s creepy as fuck how you two do that,” Trip mutters, arms crossed over his chest.

The first real grin I’ve had all day slowly appears on my face. “Jealous?”

“As all hell, brother.”

We both laugh until we notice Remy hasn’t joined in. She’s turned her attention to the woman strung up in the center of the room. With her brow furrowed and her hands fisting at her sides, I know her alter ego has taken over.

“Might want to grab the supplies,” I say softly to Trip, who raises one eyebrow as he picks up on the building tension.

Walking over to the door, he grabs the bucket and a small bag of other necessities…like a pack of wipes and a bottle of water.

“So what’s her story, anyhow?” he says out loud, eyeing Remy who’s still silently staring at the unconscious woman.

“She was River’s ol’ lady. When they divorced, he tried to get custody of the kids because she’s not exactly what you’d call mother material . They’ve ended up with bruises, cuts, burns, broken bones, but each time, she’s explained them away. River’s pleaded with the court system for his children’s safety, but they ignored him. Melinda gave the judge a sob story about her baby daddy being a member of the Havoc Reapers, and he awarded that sadistic excuse for a mother full custody.”

“Her drugs and men of the week are more important than the three children she’s brought into this world.”

Remy’s voice is soft, steady, but there’s a thread of fury woven into the otherwise even tone that most wouldn’t recognize. I do, and so does Trip. We share a look loaded with things neither of us dares say out loud when she’s like this, lest we risk having that fury aimed our way. She’d never hurt us, but taking the brunt of her anger isn’t something either of us want at the moment. As much as she doesn’t want to hear it, it’s impossible to shut off the voices that keep insisting we protect our woman and child from anything and everything…even herself.

A soft whimper echoes through the room, and a sinister grin starts to spread across Remy’s face.

“Looks like Miss Wilson is almost ready to say hello, boys.”

As the woman slowly comes to, her unfocused eyes go wide when she takes in the room and the three strangers surrounding her. Panic begins to set in. As she struggles to get free, Remy casually walks over to the leather satchel, picks it up along with the manila folder, and carries them over to a nearby small metal table that is in plain view of our guest. In no rush, she unties the knot and opens the folded sections, revealing a multitude of shiny, pointy objects, along with others that probably seem innocuous on their own. Spoiler: they're not.

“Welcome, Melinda,” Remy says cheerfully. “Did you have a good nap?”

“W-where am I?”

“You’re in my new kill room. The very first VIP guest, actually. Quite the honor, if you ask me.” Remy waves her hand around the room. “What do you think?”

With the meds wearing off, the woman’s bravado starts to come back online right along with her anger. “I think you’re a goddamn whack job. What the fuck, Beretta?”

Remy tsks. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, Melinda. And sadly for you, you’ve got the wrong sister.”

“R-Remy?” she whispers, shocked.

She was just a club whore when Remington was still around the clubhouse, but she witnessed enough to know the Steele sisters were never to be fucked with.

“It’s been a while, Melinda. I think the last time I saw you was when River had you bent over the pool table in the clubhouse with your skirt pushed up around your waist and your pussy dripping all over the green felt. Do you remember what you said to fifteen-year-old me?”

Melinda blinks, eyes darting to where Trip and I are standing, then back to Remy. “N-no. I?—”

“You told me to keep my whore eyes to myself because River would never want inexperienced pussy like mine.” Remy shakes her head. “I was still a virgin then. Not for long, of course, but that’s neither here nor there. River was one of only a select few people who were around to help Rock clean up the mess of my life, and I owe him one, so here we are. I’m ready to settle up.”

“What the hell does that mean? Let me go, you fucking psycho. You can’t keep me here!”

Remy picks up the folder and pulls out a few sheets of white paper, waving them in the air. “This right here? It’s your signed permission slip for your first and only field trip. Not really fair if you ask me since your kids never get to go on any because you’re a lazy, selfish mother, but it is what it is.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Melinda yells, beginning to tug on her arms. Unfortunately for her, they’re chained above her head. Her pleading eyes flash to Trip and I. “Help me. Please. She’s fucking crazy. She?—”

Remy’s hand whips through the air, her open palm connecting with Melinda’s cheek.

“Tell me… Did I do that right?”

Melinda sputters as a fiery red handprint lights up on her cheek. “You psychotic bitch. I’ll make you pay for this. You just wait and?—”

After another slap across the face, Remy shakes her hand. “That shit stings. Your hand must have grown used to it considering it’s one of your favorite forms of punishment to inflict on those three angels you have.”

The first tear rolls down Melinda’s cheek. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I’d never?—”

This time, her words are stopped with a swift backhand that makes her nose bleed.

Trip lifts the bucket, watching our girl for any signs she’s about ready to blow, but nothing happens. Instead, Remy’s gaze remains locked on the woman strung up under the bright light in the center of the room.

“So, you’re saying your son lied in his statement to the nurse at the hospital? You didn’t slap him in the face then backhand him when he cried?”

“O-of course n-not. I’d never hurt him.”

Remy walks back over to the table, her elegant finger running across the paper as she reads the words that spell the demise of the woman now openly crying.

“Hmmm. Then I guess this bit about the burn marks on your little girl’s legs was a lie too?” she murmurs, picking up the pack of cigarettes. Pulling one free from the open box, she turns and lifts the lighter, her thumb rolling over the little metal piece with a click. A flame appears.

“I didn’t… I’d never…p-please…” Melinda sputters, terror flashing in her eyes as Remy lights the end of the cigarette.

Her eyes meet mine as she holds the cigarette out toward me. Stepping forward, I take a drag off the end until it glows red. I don’t inhale, just blow the smoke out from between my lips, because that shit is nasty.

Melinda contorts her body, though her struggle is useless thanks to her ankles being chained to the hook on the floor beneath her, as Remy stalks closer. She has nowhere to go, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.

“No. No! I’ll do anything. I’ll… I’ll sign over custody. River can have his little fucking brats. Fuck. Please. Don’t!” she screams, blood and snot now running from her nostrils. “And they say your s-sister is the m-monster...”

Remy grips the terrified woman’s cheek with her free hand. “They were wrong. I’m the monster, not Etta, and you’re no better. There is, however, one thing that differentiates between you and me. I only terrorize other monsters, avenging the innocents you’ve all tarnished with your despicable evil. Personally, I think there should be a special place in hell for people like you who ruin something so pure and bright…” She pauses, a dark smile lighting up her features. “Oh wait. There is. You’re in it.”

Remy’s hand drops, pressing the lit end of the cigarette into the woman’s bare thigh.

A loud shriek fills the room, which grows louder with each new burn etched onto Melinda’s previously unmarred skin. When our girl steps back, she tosses the cigarette butt onto the concrete and stomps it out with the heel of her boot.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Melinda.”

The woman doesn’t respond, just watches Remy with wary eyes as her chest heaves and tears run down her face, smearing her mascara.

“Why not just let River take the kids? You obviously didn’t want them or love them. Why be so selfish?”

Melinda doesn't answer quickly enough, so Remy grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

“I asked you a question!”

Around a sob, Melinda sputters out, “I d-didn’t w-want to lose the ch-child s-support money.”

Remy goes still, her head cocked to one side. “Let me get this straight. You didn’t actually want the kids. You just wanted to keep them so you didn’t lose the money that funds your drug habit?”

Melinda’s entire body sags in defeat, her shoulders shaking as her body is wracked with pain she more than deserves.

Remy releases her and steps back, her mask still solidly in place. “I really should’ve gotten around to this sooner. Now, I’ll owe River an apology and those kids some ice cream, or candy, or, hell, maybe a puppy when the judge grants their father full custody after their piece of shit mother turns up dead.”

Trip runs his hand over his head while our girl walks over and picks up a belt from the table. She runs it through her hand while Melinda shakes in fear. There’s a tiny spark of pleasure in Remy’s eyes that most wouldn’t notice, but I do. I notice everything about this woman.

“Fuck. Does she seem…”

I glance over at Trip, whose eyes are locked on our girl, his brow creased with worry.

“More vacant than usual?” Looking at Remy, I take in her seemingly emotionless face as she murmurs something into Melinda’s ear. “To you, I’m sure she does. The woman you’ve witnessed prior to this is the one who had reconnected with a part of herself she hasn’t seen since her teens. That softness hasn’t existed in over a decade. This version…the cold, detached woman in front of us now? This is the real Avenging Angel. The one that girl had to become in order to survive.”

His eyes meet mine, a question in them I’m not sure he truly wants to ask.

“Our girl is still in there, Trip, but she’s learning how to navigate the balancing act between the two distinct sides of herself. She’s getting better at knowing when Remy needs to take a backseat and let the Avenging Angel take over for a little while.”

The words leave my lips, and while they ring true, I have to admit to myself he’s not the only one worried that Remy might get lost within her own mind again. I know she’s strong, and I know she’s resilient, but I also know that we haven’t seen the worst of what Colt has planned. If we don’t end this soon, there’s a chance any progress Remy’s made these last few months might be lost forever. I’m not sure if we’ll be enough to pull her out of the depths of her darkness again.

“Is it too much for you? This version of her?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head. “Not at all. Just makes me want to love her that much harder to remind her who’s waiting for her when this is all done and over with. I refuse to lose her, man.”

The first hit of the belt echoes through the room, and we silently stand by, witnesses to our girl righting the wrongs committed against three innocents. Whether or not her actions cleanse her soul or damn it straight to hell is something none of us have the answer to. We can only wait here in the shadows, ready to drag her back into the light when she’s done.