Page 7 of Volatile King (The Kings of Wayward Academy #6)

M yles

Pulling the hoodie off over my head, I tossed it at Nash. I smirked when he caught it and scowled at me.

“I don’t want to get blood on it,” I said as he turned to leave. Liam and Theo followed, and I called after them, “Where are ya guys going? Don’t you want to question him?”

“Nope. He’s all yours, do whatever you want,” Nash said.

“Are ya serious?”

Nash just waved my hoodie in the air, and with a thud, the heavy door closed, locking me inside with Owen. The chains rattled, and I slowly turned around to face my monster. Blood pooled on the floor under his feet from the shackles cutting lines into his legs.

Owen smiled at me. That same knowing and evil smile he always wore before he made me bleed.

The smile turned into a twisted laugh, one that would be the envy of any horror movie producer.

Even though he no longer scared me, I couldn’t help shuddering as the hysterical sound vibrated off the walls.

I stepped forward, and he lunged at me. The chains caught him within a few inches, but I didn’t flinch.

He reminded me of a rabid dog with his lips pulled up to show off his teeth.

“Well, come on then, boy, let’s have ya. Think yer all tough now, is that it? Gonna beat the shite out of yer aul man now that he’s tied up and defenseless,” he taunted.

I didn’t respond. This was typical Owen behavior.

He loved to get under my skin, making me feel insecure or scared, and second-guessing every decision.

I hadn’t understood what it was to be gaslighted when I was a boy, but now…

now, I understood. I understood a lot of things that I hadn’t even a year ago.

“You ignoring me, son? Not very nice of ya.”

“I’m not yer son,” I said casually as I crossed my arms. “But then again, you already knew that, didn’t ya? That’s why ya never loved me, why Devin was the golden child, and why ya let him torture me. The only thing I don’t know is if it was to hurt me or hurt Ma.”

“Who told ya?”

“Does it matter?”

“Naw, I guess it doesn’t. Yer right, you were never mine. Just a stain I didn’t have the guts to kill when you were a babe. I did love yer ma—despite the fact she was a raging whore.”

My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. A cut opened up on Owen’s lower lip, and he smiled and licked at it while he leered at me. Fuck, I hated that he got to me. He knew all the right buttons and just how to press them to make me react.

Fuck.

Walking away to give me space to get my shit together, I wandered the edge of the room. Nash had hung a wide array of weapons and torture devices on the walls, similar to what we saw at Nathaniel’s place. I ran my fingers over a leather strap with sharp barbs.

What the fuck was that used for?

The tools were divided into sections. Chains, knives, saws, razors, pliers, blow torches, cattle prods, tasers, and so much more, each labeled with a list of suggestions tacked beside them.

He had a whole rusted and stained medieval row with terrifying items. There were things I’d never seen or heard of before.

The longer I was down here, the more I believed Nash had a little serial killer in him somewhere.

I selected a sharp knife and stuffed a package of salt into my pocket before turning back toward Owen. He was still in the same outfit he had worn when I ran him off the road. Grabbing the back of his black shirt, I sliced through it, allowing the tip of the knife to touch his skin.

“Ya really think you can go through with this? You’ve always been weak, a mama’s boy,” he spewed the same hatred at me that he always had.

“Yer needin’ new material. These lines are gettin’ old, just like you,” I said, pulling the shredded material free. As I dropped it to the ground at his feet, I realized that his leg had been crudely fixed with a makeshift splint.

“I’m never too old to slit yer throat,” he said.

With a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, I kicked the broken leg. His scream could’ve woken the dead.

“Is that so?”

He shrieked as I gripped his hair and yanked his head back, bowing his body at an awkward angle.

With efficient strokes, I sliced into his scalp, across his ears, neck, and shoulders.

Each of the lines, a symbol for the history of blows and broken bones.

For all the times he’d turned a blind eye to Devin’s misdeeds.

Owen’s pulse throbbed rapidly in the side of his neck. It didn’t matter that he’d stopped screaming, a part of him was scared.

Dropping my hand down, I took the packet from my pocket and tore it open before readjusting my grip on his head. With the blade between my teeth, I stared into his defiant eyes. He snarled at me, and I smirked as I shook the salt out onto the open wounds.

“Ahh fuck,” he yelled as the white granules stuck to the blood and sweat running down his forehead. “Fuck, my eyes,” he growled. Owen tried to pull away, but I held firm.

I clenched the knife hard, my jaw twitching as I bit the metal. “Do ya feel the burn? How it cleanses the pain you inflicted,” I snarled despite the blade.

He sucked in a ragged breath as the last of the salt tumbled into his shallow wounds.

Releasing his hair, I dropped the empty package onto the floor and dragged the tip of the blade around his body until I was facing him. A thin line of blood followed my path and began to drip down his side.

“Ya don’t look like yer goin’ very far. Yer nothin’ but talk,” I said.

He smiled, his eyes dancing with an evil that couldn’t be explained, only experienced.

“I wasn’t too old, or all talk, when I ran yer white witch off the road. Tell me, how is the little cunt doin’ anyway?”

With a roar, I sank the sharp blade into his quad until it lodged in the bone. Owen screamed and then smiled. I lost it. Each fist landed a blow for not only my past but the struggle that my Snowflake had to endure.

Panting, I stepped back and watched the blood leave Owen’s body. He was still chuckling as if the pain fed the darkness within him. He lifted his head, and blood dripped from his mouth.

“Is that all ya got? That little girl ya love…yer Snowflake.” He smirked, and my nostrils flared as I tried to keep myself in check. “Do ya think she makes ya strong? She’s your leash. Yer more of a bitch now than ya ever were.”

My fist tightened, but I took a deep breath and smiled.

“Yer jabs don’t bother me anymore. I don’t need yer approval, love, or anythin’ else. And even though ya tried to take my Snowflake away from me…she’s alive and doing great.”

The confidence in his eyes faded ever so slightly.

“That bitch ruined everythin’,” he said as I marched over and swiped the first pair of pliers I saw off the wall.

“What do ya mean? Ren has never done anythin’ to you.”

“That’s where yer wrong. Lawrence stopped caring about anythin’ else.

All he wanted was that bitch as his own.

But he wouldn’t listen. I told him she was dangerous, and playin’ with the Mikhailov family would get us killed.

He ordered Devin to steal from them, and it got my boy captured and murdered. The asshole never even said sorry.”

Owen’s voice cracked on the last word, and I rolled my eyes. He sounded ridiculous and more off his rocker than ever before.

“Naw, he didn’t,” I said, smiling.

It felt so good to know something that he didn’t. To be able to hold this over him as he took his last breaths.

“What the feck are you talkin’ about?”

“It wasn’t Lawrence. It was me.”

That wasn’t a hundred percent true. It was Nash who caught on to the backdoor deals, not that Owen needed to know.

“What?” The look of horror and shock in Owen’s eyes was delightful.

“Aye. Did you really think I’d let that prick wander free forever after what he did to me? Now who’s naive?”

“Ya feckin’ ungrateful piece of shite.”

“I cannie tell ya how good it felt to watch Nathaniel toss Devin’s ass into a dog cage for his drive to California.

Devin was tortured to within an inch of his sorry life day in and day out.

I was the one who stole his final breath.

Aye, it was me, and I’d do it all over again, just to see that look in yer eyes,” I whispered, and Owen lost it.

He thrashed wildly in the chains, swearing at me as I walked away. He was so animated that I couldn’t understand half the words, and my heart warmed. Watching him come undone for once was beautiful.

Lawrence was as impressive and sneaky as any snake. He had used my brother to see what all he could get away with under the Mikhailovs’ noses while keeping his hands clean.

The whole scenario played out in my head.

Lawrence had told Owen what he wanted. Owen had told Devin, but didn’t mention Lawrence.

Devin got caught and protected Owen, never the wiser to Lawrence’s involvement.

Devious and smart. That also meant Lawrence hadn’t cared if we got Devin back or not, despite his outburst about the dick in the box.

If Devin had been released, then Owen would have calmed down and been controllable again.

If not, then Owen went off the rails, and Lawrence had an excuse to kill him and blame all the ongoing issues on a rogue soldier.

Ignoring Owen and the insanity he spewed, I snatched his jaw. His eyes were no longer lucid. Knowing that I’d gotten Devin killed had pushed him over the edge.

Squeezing muffled the majority of the rant, but the rest died in his throat when I pinched his front left tooth with the pliers.

“Do ya remember when I was losin’ me baby teeth, and I cried when the first one fell out? Do ya remember what ya did to me?” Owen didn’t answer, but I could see the recollection in his eyes. “What did ya say again? You said that I was just like me ma and needed to learn to take it like a man.”

I twisted the pliers just enough to get a preview of what was about to happen. Owen whimpered.