Page 4 of Tortured Souls
I scoff to myself as I turn my back to him and place the last glass back on the shelf. I hesitate a moment, taking a deep breath before turning back to face him. My eyes clash with his dark ones, and I can’t help the turn of my stomach he causes just by looking at me with those eyes. Saxon is too beautiful, painfully so. I berate my body for betraying me whenever I see him. No man, and I meanno man, on this earth should look as delicious as he does. It’s the long hair, it has to be. I’ve been around motorcycle punks all my life and have developed a distaste for them, but with Saxon, he’s different.
My body feels like a rope has been wrapped around my waist that’s tethered to him as I’m being pulled closer and closer. His permanent scowl that pulls his eyebrows together, the long hair that’s constantly falling from his man bun framing his face, or the way his lips pull to the side of his mouth as he tries to conceal his smirk. But what I’m drawn to most is the way he clenches his jaw whenever I know I’m aggravating him. It’s become a game I secretly play with him, to see how many times I can make him clench his jaw. One day he’s going to crack a tooth. Last time I saw him, I counted nine times. Tonight, I’m going for ten.
“What do you want, Saxon? I’m tired, I’m cranky, and I need to shower,” I say with a sigh.
“Don’t play dumb with me. Answer my question.” His jaw clenches—that’s one down and nine to go.
“No, I don’t know a Damien Devonte.” Lie. His eyes narrow on me, silence filling the small space between us as he holds my stare. He says nothing as he places his hands on the bar top and hoists his body up and over the small counter, his boots colliding with the floor and echoing through the now silent club. Stepping up to me, he closes the space between us until we are toe-to-toe. I hold my ground; I’ve known men who like to use their height and sheer size to intimidate me all my life. I don’t cower to anyone. However, on the inside, my heartbeat picks up and bangs against my rib cage. Looking down at me, he tilts his head to the side.
“I’ve learned some information about Damien already. I just need you to confirm it for me.” His deep voice gives me goosebumps, hopefully with how dim the club is he doesn’t notice.
“And what information is that?” I ask sarcastically as I continue to crane my neck to look up at his face. I want to step back to relieve the strain on my neck, but I won’t show him any weakness.No, I’ll stand toe-to-toe with his man just because no one else will. I like to be the exception, his biggest pain in the ass.
“You see, Saint and I recently took a little ride up north. You know, where your father and the rest of the Hellstorm crew reside? Remember them?”
I push his chest as hard as I can, anger building in my chest at the mere mention of my father. My efforts only move his stone wall of a body a half step back. His lip pulls at the corner, and I know he’s trying to hold back his smile.
“They mean nothing to me. The only place they belong is below our feet in the deepest crevice of hell.” I turn my back on him to take a shaky breath. Heat engulfs my back, warm breath fans across my neck, making me shiver.
“Good, then you’ll tell me if this Damien guy was, in fact, the man who gave away my family’s address to the next playerin line who wanted my family killed?” I lift my head high; I knew this was the information he wanted me to confirm. I have no issue with giving Saxon any information he wants regarding finding his family’s murderer. I hate my family; I hate my father and his stupid club, so I couldn’t care less if Saxon and the rest of the Kings’ Aces eliminate every single one of them. However, he will not get in the way of my own plans. So, I will give him the answer he wants, but Damien Devonte is mine.
I turn to face him, his body so close to mine I can smell his bergamot and musk scent. He smells divine. His hard exterior gives him the tough guy look—sharp jaw with a dusting of a five o’clock shadow, but it’s the tattoos for me. I’ve always been a sucker for tattoos. I guess that’s why I have as many as he does. The pain is a good reminder that you’re alive, especially on your darkest of days. I almost forget I’m supposed to hate him when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.Fuck. Focus Sky.I take another deep breath, composing myself and lifting my face towards his.
“Yes.” My voice comes out shaker than I intended before I clear my throat and continue. “I overheard from some of the guys that he was to find your address and deliver it to someone else. Who that was, I don’t know. Happy now?” I roll my eyes at him and go to turn my back to him, but a strong hand wraps around my neck, pushing me to the end of the bar until my back slams against the counter. His fingers squeeze just enough to make it hard to breathe, but not enough to take away my breath completely. My hands wrap around his wrist as he lifts my body higher off the ground so I’m standing on my tiptoes. Dark eyes grow darker by the minute as he glares at me, and I catch his jaw clenching once again. That’s two.
“You knew this and thought it was wise to withhold this information from me? For what, Sky? Are you protecting him?” My hand clenches in a fist as I deliver a semi-decent punch to theside of his face. Saxon’s head turns to the side a fraction before he turns back to face me. While I thought punching him would make him drop me, that was wishful thinking as his fingers tighten even more around my throat. Now it’s hard to breathe, my face growing hot as the blood rushes to my cheeks and ears.
“Now, was that necessary?” he growls, his face coming within centimeters of my own.
Using the last bit of air I have left, I say, “He’s fucking dead to me.”
With that, Saxon drops me back to the floor. I suck in a few deep breaths, my lungs screaming for more. I rub my neck, leaning over to catch my breath before standing and meeting his dark eyes once again. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his massive chest, his eyebrow raised as if he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. This fucking prick.
“Where is he?” he finally asks me. A laugh escapes my throat.
“You really think that man would be alive today if I knew where he was?” I retort. No, he wouldn’t be alive. He would have already been tortured until he was grasping for the last thread of his life, begging me to end his sorry excuse of an existence. A death wish I won’t give to him. No. I will keep him alive for as long as I can, just to continue to torture him for the shit he put me through. Death would be too easy; he needs to suffer—in the most painful way I can think of.
“You like torturing people? Is that your hobby?” The way he says it makes my stomach churn. Does he know what I do here? No, he’s fucking with me. This must be his take on sarcasm because the corner of his lip curves up in his ridiculous smirk that makes my chest hot. This was just a coincidence, especially since I just told him that’s what I want to do. I’m overthinking this.
“You hear anything, you’ll let me know, yes?” The audacity of this fucking man. I don’t answer him. I know what I haveplanned. I won’t let him ruin it. “Sky, don’t make me say it again.”
I scoff at him. He really thinks I’m scared of his threats. He has no idea what I’ve been through. A threat means nothing to me.
“I’ll be seeing you soon.” With that, he turns and leaves me in the silent club with more rage and need for violence than I can handle at the moment. I can’t wait to visit my friend in the basement.
SAXON
She knows more than she’s letting on. I’ve been watching her since she arrived in Golden Heights two years ago. Did she really think I would let a rival club member live in my town without me knowing her every move? When I found out she was Sergio’s daughter, that piqued my interest. I admit I wanted to eliminate her right off the bat but soon realized she could be of some use after all. It’s no secret she hates her father and his club, but what I’m not sold on is whether this is just a facade to try to collect information from me and mine. My family and my club are theonly things I live for. No pretty girl is going to come in and ruin that.
So, I watched her, secretly, of course. It started with keeping tabs on her at the club, then when I found out she rents the apartment above the club, I installed a few cameras here and there. You know, to keep an eye on her at all times.It wasn’t hard watching her; she’s caught my attention from the moment I first saw her. She’s captivating and mysterious, otherworldly with her beauty. A true witch who’s cast a spell on me, and I can’t go a single day without spying on her. I’ve sort of become her own personal stalker, if you will, in the sense that I can’t fucking stay away from her. As much as my cock wants to be near her, I can’t ignore the fact that she’s still the enemy.
Skyler’s different than I thought. As far as I can tell, she’s not once called or had any contact with her father, or anyone from the Hellstorms, for that matter. I can’t imagine the daughter of Sergio would just leave his orbit to come into his enemy’s territory. Nah, I’m not buying it. With as much time as I spend watching her, I’ve noticed she’s always alone. No friends, other than my sister and the girls, and even their time together is minimal. She’s an insanely private person from what I’ve gathered. She works, goes for her nightly run, gets back to the club, showers, and goes to bed. Skyler’s a creature of habit and rarely ventures from her routine. That is until I noticed after her runs, she tends to go to the basement of the club. Naturally, I installed a camera down there as well. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but what I did find, I never would have imagined.
I’m sitting in the parking lot of the club still, my all-black McLaren GT concealing me from sight. I pull up my live stream of the basement camera I installed and see she’s already gotten to work on her latest victim, who is strapped to the chair in front of her. She’s been pummeling the mystery man with a pair of brass knuckles since I left the club fifteen minutes ago. Iknew she was pissed after our conversation—hell, she was pissed before it even began. That’s just her personality though. She’s constantly in a sour mood, which makes her more fun to fuck with.Her attitude spurs me on. She turns me on. That rage she harbors is a ticking time bomb, and as far as I can see, I detonated that bomb tonight. Sorry to her victim.
I watch her as blood spews from the man’s face and covers her chest, face, and hair. She’s on a mission tonight, and if the poor fuck isn’t dead already, he will be shortly. His cries and grunts have stopped and the sound of bones crunching beneath her brass knuckles is all I hear.
Just when I’m about to head out and let her have her time, she finally stops, straightening her back. I pull my phone closer to my face as I watch her chest rise and fall with quick breaths. She’s spent. About time. She lets the brass knuckles fall from her hands and the loud clanking fills the room. Then she collapses to the floor herself, her body visibly shaking. Pulling her knees to her chest, Sky wraps her hands around her legs and lets her face fall to her knees as she sobs. I’ve never, and I mean never, seen her cry. Especially not after she kills someone. She’s usually on a high and can’t stop smiling at her handy work. I like her kind of psycho, reminds me of me. She sits there while each sob explodes from deep within her, as if the floodgates finally burst and a lifetime of pain floods through her. For two years I’ve been following Skyler, and not one tear has been shed—until tonight. What’s happened to this girl? That is the question I have yet to get answered.