Page 95 of The Devil

“What kind of torture? I can run out and get supplies.”

I let out an empty-sounding chuckle. “Gasoline. A fire extinguisher.”

His eyebrows lift. “Are you going to roast him?”

“Yes. Piece by little piece until he’s nothing but ashes.”

“I like it. I need to make a new tarot card for that one.”

I shake my head. Santiago always walks around with a deck of cards, and he makes people choose one. Whichever card is pick determines the way he kills the person.

I think it’s brilliant.

“I’ll get some sugar water for Jenna. She might need it.”

I nod and lock eyes with Santiago. “Thank you for staying behind.”

“No worries.”

When he heads toward the stairs, I look at Jenna and brush some of her silky strands out of her face.

“Wake, up,meu amor.”

Santiago returns and sets the glass of sugar water down on the bedside table. “I’ll be in the living room. Call if you need me.”

I nod, not taking my eyes off my woman.

Only when it begins to grow dark in the room, and I reach over to switch on the bedlamp, does Jenna let out a soft groan.

Finally, her lashes flutter, opening so I can see her blue and green irises.

“You’re safe,” I murmur, my tone as gentle as I can make it.

Her eyes widen, and she shoots up into a sitting position. I quickly grab hold of her shoulders and lean down to capture her gaze.

“Look at me.” She does as she’s told, and once again, I see the horror on her face. Wanting to make it easier for her, I ask, “The voice that you heard earlier. John. Is he one of the men who raped you?”

She begins to nod furiously, her hair falling in her face again. “H-he w-w-was t-the l-l-leader. He…he…he…” she bursts out crying and quickly scoots closer to me.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly to my chest. “Take your time,meu amor.”

Slowly her sobs grow quiet, and when she talks again, her voice is empty as if all the life has been drained from it.

“I stayed late at a bonfire because I was having fun, and when I walked home, I heard their motorbikes coming up the road. They started chasing me, and I just ran and ran, but it didn’t matter. They caught me and forced me onto the ground. JJ was the first one.”

Hearing her call him JJ, shock shudders through me. When I killed the fourteen men, the last one said he had information on JJ.

Foda-se! I should’ve listened before beating him to death.

“Then it was Wayne,” she continues. “JJ would take a turn whenever one of the others finished. I lost count of how many times he raped me.” My body begins to tremble as I listen to her harrowing trauma. “He growled in my ear every time, saying that if I told anyone, he would slit my neck and fuck my throat. Then he’d do the same to my mom and aunt. I was...” She begins to cry again. “I was so scared that I would slip up, I stopped talking to people.”

The rage inside me takes on a life of its own, my thirst for vengeance so powerful it can only be quenched with blood.

“Can you give me their names?” I ask, my tone laced with brutality.

“W-Wayne…” With trembling hands, she digs her phone out and types out a message.

Wayne Laufer. Kirk Doyle. Derek Hall. John Jamieson.