Page 5 of Tortured Souls

I’ve seen Sky kill six men since I installed these cameras roughly six months after she arrived. No telling how many she killed before that. I was shocked the first time I saw her with a machete. She was hacking a man to pieces, starting with his fingers, then his hands, then wrists, forearm, shoulder, and then starting again at his toes. It was brutal. Creative, but brutal,nonetheless. I was instantly intrigued and fascinated by this woman.

I’m no saint myself and use rather questionable tactics when torturing my victims as well, but with Sky, hers seem to be more personal and more deeply rooted. A way for her to heal herself in some way. I can’t imagine her victims being random. I’ve heard her say their names as if they are longtime friends, or rather, enemies.

I watch her for a bit longer, her body quickly losing the fight and exhaustion taking hold of her. Lifting her head to look at the now very dead and very bloody man, she stands up, wipes the tears from her face, smearing blood across her beautiful sun-kissed skin and begins untying the man. I don’t stick around then; I know her routine. She will chop up the man piece by piece and place him in black garbage bags. Then she will throw the bags in the club’s dumpster out back. Last, but not least, she will clean the basement, take her shower, and go to bed.

At first, I thought to myself how risky it was to dispose of the bodies in the dumpster where she works, then I realized something. Skylar only kills her victims on Monday nights due to trash day being Tuesday morning. This means the bodies never stay there for longer than twelve hours. Sexyandsmart.

I wasn’t planning on continuing my surveillance of her for this long, but a year and a half later, I can’t seem to stop myself. She’s a puzzle I want to put together. I need to know why she does what she does. Who is Skylar, and why am I fast becoming utterly infatuated with her? I was going to stop spying on her, I really was. That was until I heard about Damien Devonte being a part of her father’s club, and how he could be related to my father’s murder. My family and my club are my top priority, but I’ve found myself spending more and more time trying to decipher this woman. I will use her for the information I need.She will tell me what I want and more. She thinks she’s a psychopath? She’s never known Saxon Wilder, but she will.

Pulling up to my house, I notice the living room light is still on and know immediately that Saint is here. I’ve known Saint since we were twelve years old. We grew up together, and he practically moved in when his grandmother died in his late teens. My father looked after him and made him a part of the club the second he turned eighteen. He is one of the few people I trust with my life. Whenever I have things that need to be taken care of, he always makes sure Sage is protected. While he was my best friend growing up, he has also been a second brother to her, and for that, I couldn’t be more thankful. She is all I have, and I won’t let anyone else try to hurt her again.

Walking up the steps to the front door, I quietly push the doors open and head straight to the kitchen. I need a beer and something to eat. I’m fucking starving. As I’m rummaging through the fridge, I hear boots making their way towards the kitchen.

“There’s some leftover pizza in the oven. The girls were hungry on the way back, so they ordered a few,” Saint says through a yawn as he pulls out a barstool and sits down at the large island. “What the hell took so long?” Popping open a beer, I grab another and slide it towards my best friend, drinking half of mine in one go. Grabbing the pizza box out of the oven, I don’t even bother with a plate and grab a slice. I toss the box on the island in front of Saint, who grabs a slice as well.

“Our little Hellstorm was being extra difficult tonight,” I say with my mouth full.

“So, does she know this Damien prick or not?” Saint is already on his second slice; the man can eat. He’s not much bigger than me, but he’s broader and just a massive fucking dude with a metabolism of a teenage boy.

If I sound jealous, it’s because I am.

“She definitely knows him, but whether she knows where he’s currently at is another story.”

“What do we do now?” Saint watches me as he waits for my response. Stepping back to the counter, I hoist myself up and sit on the cold granite. I lean back against the cabinets, my head resting against the wood, as I let out a sigh. I know what I want to do, but think better of it. I don’t think she would like me tying her sexy little ass to a chair and fucking it out of her, but then again, she’s full of surprises.

“I know that look.” Saint brings me back from my dirty thoughts involving a little brunette with hazel eyes.

“I think it’s time we change tactics.” His only response is his signature smirk that tells me he’s all in with whatever plan I have brewing in my head.

Time to get to work.

SKYLAR

I fucking hate that I didn’t enjoy killing Martin as much as I thought I would. Saxon ruined that kill for me, and I hate him for that. I’m more pissed that I let him get in my head and fuck with my psyche. Giving another man any type of control over me has my blood boiling, and I can’t stand the heat that’s coursing through my body as I toss the last garbage bag into the dumpster.So long, Martin.

Heading back down to the basement, I get to work with the tedious part of my hobby—the clean-up. I wasn’t particularly careful with my hack job this time, and now I’m paying the priceof having to clean up more blood than usual. While in my fit of rage, I didn’t put down a sufficient amount of drop cloths this time.

Way to go, Sky.

I’m on my hands and knees when a certain pair of black eyes take up space in my head. I’ve known Saxon for roughly a year and a half. He made it his mission to get to know me the moment he found out about my father. I don’t blame him. I know my father would have done the same if the roles were reversed. Why would a rival club member’s daughter show up in his territory without ill intent? His constant questions, badgering, and watchful eyes didn’t bother me. I know his loyalty is to his club, and I respect that. However, he has no idea who I really am or why I showed up here randomly nearly two years ago. He never will.

Deep down, he still thinks I may be a spy of some sort, waiting for me to uncover his operations and report back to my father. Again, I don’t blame him, but come on, man. It’s been two years since I showed up here. To me, that seems like too long for me to play games. Can’t be mad at his persistence though. Plus, he’s not bad to look at either. Who am I kidding? He’s fucking gorgeous. All cranky and broody—his bad boy attitude does something to me. Something I’m trying hard to ignore.

After placing the last bit of bloody cloth and bits of evidence in the black garbage bag, I let out a long sigh. What a night. Disposing of the bag, I make my way up the stairs to my apartment above the club. Kicking open the door, I immediately go to my bathroom and turn on my shower. I need to clean the smell of Martin’s remains off my body.

As I allow the shower to heat up, I remove my bloody clothes and put them in a pile beside the toilet. I remove my hair clip. My long brown hair cascades down my back, the release of tension falling from my shoulders, and I peer at myself inthe mirror.I look tired. No, I look fucking exhausted. I need a vacation. I need to get through my list so I can finally start living my life the way I want. I’ve dreamed of happier times all my life. Marrying someone who adores me, maybe having kids, a beautiful home we can make our sanctuary. All that’s still just a dream and will remain a dream until I finish what I’ve started.

One down, so many more to go.

My list of victims is still dauntingly long, but every checked box is one less monster walking the streets. Dark circles brim my eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s from crying so hard or the exhaustion of a long day. I can’t stare at myself for too long. The resemblance to my twin brother has my brain spiraling once again, and I don’t have another victim in the basement to help alleviate the pain that comes with thoughts of him. Seven, my twin, my best friend, the only person on this earth that ever loved me, was ripped away from me. A random act of violence stole him from my world in a split second.

I turn, open the glass door, and step into the warm spray that falls like rain above me. I push away that day and enjoy the comfort of the warm water, standing directly underneath and allowing it to wash away the blood, grime, beer, and last bit of evidence of Martin. As though he never existed. Good fucking riddance.

I’m quickly following the steps of an “everything” shower. Washing my hair with my new pomegranate shampoo.Damn, this smells good.Followed by conditioner, body wash, and shaving both legs and underarms. I take my time, the process becoming relaxing and allowing my mind to slow from the constant manic state that comes with my busy days. When I finally finish, the sun has already started to rise. Long fucking day, it was.

Brushing my teeth and wrapping my hair in a towel, I don’t even bother getting into pajamas. Pulling back my blackcomforter, I slide into the silk sheets and settle in for the night. Or morning, whatever you want to call it. Life of a bartender. Sleep consumes me faster than usual. Thankfully, I’m too exhausted to allow my mind to race tonight. Small victories.

SAXON