Page 14 of Tortured Souls
“Let me go, Saxon!”
“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to be the next one I tie to a chair.” This does the trick, because she finally stops her poor attempts at escaping me and stands up a little straighter. Letting her hair go, I peer down into her eyes.
“Now, that’s better, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you, Saxon,” she spits out, and I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips.
“Soon, maybe, but for now, I’m a little busy.” I walk past her and head to the table behind our silent captive, who is sitting so nicely in his chair. He hasn’t stopped staring at Sky since he woke up, his eyes burning into her skin as his upper lip lifts in disgust.
Saint whistles to Damien, slapping his cheek before drawing his attention away from my little killer.
“Up here, tough guy. She’s not the one to be worried about.” I laugh again at Saint’s comment, because honestly, I’d be scared of Sky if I was her prisoner in her own personal basement. I’ve seen her in action. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
Grabbing a hammer off the table, I step around the chair and peer down at Damien. His eyes go a little wider at the sight of my hammer that conveniently has remnants of someone else’s blood dried to the metal head. Must have forgotten to clean this one from the last time I used it. Oh well.
“Alright, Mr. Devonte. First off, nice to see you. My name is?—”
“I know who the fuck you are.” My mood instantly sours. I hate being interrupted, and this piece of shit feels confident enough to do so in my own fucking basement. How bold of him. Big mistake.
I swing the hammer down with so much force the sound of bones crunching beneath the metal head fills the room, followed by Damien’s cries as his kneecap shatters.
“Fuuuuck, what the fuck!?” he cries, tears springing to his eyes at the sudden pain.
“NO! Stop!” Sky screams from behind me, just as Saint grabs her by the waist and stops her from reaching for my hammer now hanging at my side. I turn to face her, the fight in her returning as she flails in Saint’s arms.
“I’m curious, Sky. Who is this man to you? Why do you want to protect him so badly?” I ask, lifting the hammer and scratching the side of my head with the metal end.
“Jesus, Sky, stop fucking kicking me,” Saint groans behind her. I nod my head at him, and he puts her down. She’s trying to catch her breath from fighting him.
“Well? Why do you want to save this piece of shit?” I point my hammer at Damien, who’s still crying in the chair he’s tied to. Bright hazel eyes look up at me, fury burning behind the color as she says with utter calmness, “Nothing in this world could save this man from what I’m going to do to him.”
With the speed of an apex predator, Sky grabs the hammer from my hand and sprints to Damien quicker than I have timeto react. She’s able to get one good hit on Damien. A blow that causes his other knee to blow out like his first. Blood coats Sky’s face before I’m able to tackle her to the ground.
“He’s mine! Get off me! I have to be the one to do this!”
What the fuck? She wants to kill him? Either she’s playing me still and Damien is just collateral damage for her espionage tasks for the Hellstorms, or this man really is someone she plans to kill. What did this man do to her? I’m becoming more and more confused about her stance in all this. Is Sky really here to escape her father, or is she just a really fucking good actress, willing to do anything for her father? By the sounds of Damien, I’d say she’s very committed to her role. RIP Damien’s kneecaps.
“What the actual fuck is going on here?” Saint says from behind us, and I have to agree. What the fuck is she talking about?
SKYLAR
The air whooshes out of my lungs from the weight of Saxon’s big, stupidly hard body that is now covering me against this cold concrete floor.
“What the actual fuck is going on here?” I hear Saint say from wherever he is in the room. Whatever this room is.
“Get off me, Saxon!” I scream, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls. My anger reaching all new levels as the blood inside me reaches its boiling point. He can’t be the one to kill Damien—this is my kill. This is my revenge. I need to do this for me. For the little girl that lost everything that day. For the girlwho was robbed of everything bright and shiny in this world. I need to do this for her. I need this closure, this ending, this beginning, so I can finally leave it all in the past.
“Saint, get some rope. Clearly, she can’t keep her hands to herself on her own,” Saxon says, his warm breath fanning against my ear.
“No, no, no, no, please, Saxon! You don’t understand. Please, just listen to me, please.” He doesn’t. Saxon lifts me off the floor and carries me to the chair I woke up in, sitting my ass down as Saint get to work tying my arms around the back. I fight. I fight with all I have; they can’t do this to me. They can’t rob me of my plans.
I plead with them, but no one hears me. I’m nobody to them, just like I’m nobody to everyone else. Except for Mack, maybe. Once they finally restrain my arms and then my legs, I continue to push against the harsh ropes that are digging into my flesh. The rope leaves burn marks across my wrists. Saint tied them so tight I don’t stand a chance beneath their hold.
“Fuck, man. Why is she here again?” Saint asks, as the pair stand and look down at me fighting against the ropes.
“I’m curious. I want to know how these two are connected.” Saxon points to me and then back to Damien, who is still silently crying like the little bitch he is. “Since she won’t tell me their connection, I’m going to get it out of him.” I watch as Saxon turns and heads back over to the table that’s behind Damien. He’s pulling open drawer after drawer like he’s looking for something specific. After a few minutes, I think he’s about to give up and find something else, but he finally stops and digs around inside one.
My eyes go to Damien, who’s trying to look over his shoulder to see what Saxon is grabbing now, but it’s useless. I try pulling against my restraints again, knowing deep down it’s pointless.