“No!” he shouts before I begin to wrap the cling wrap around his face, making sure to cover it all from his forehead to his chin. Ryat releases him and pushes him to the floor, and we both watch him flop around like a fish out of water, trying to breathe with his hands duct-taped behind his back along with his ankles.
The clear plastic wrap sticks to his tear-streaked and bloody face. His chest heaves and he bucks wildly. When his movements start to slow, I kneel next to him and push my fingers into it, breaking a small piece around his lips so he can suck in a breath.
“Who and where did they take my wife?” I ask calmly, but inside I’m on fire. A burning sensation that I can’t put out. I hate feeling helpless, and I hate it even more that I have no clue what is happening to my little darling. Is she being tortured? Raped? Is she dead? She’s innocent. So whatever is happening to her is because of me. They are making her pay because I love her.
Until she’s back in my arms, I’m going to burn every person that helped take her from me.
“I … don’t know.” He sobs, rolling onto his stomach. The cling wrap so tight on his face it’s got his eyes closed, and cheeks squished, smearing the blood on his skin.
Standing, I pull out the flask and pour it over his legs.
He kicks around his taped legs. “What are you doing?” he rushes out, unable to see.
I take the lighter out of my pocket and bend down, lighting the gasoline I just sprinkled on his legs, setting him on fire.
His screams fill the room and I stand back, watching him try and roll around as the flames lick up over his skin. I didn’t drown him in it. The plan is to make it hurt, fucking painful. Fire is unpredictable, but one thing about it is that it can be quick. And that would be too easy for him. He deserves to suffer like I know Lake is right now.
The smell of his burning flesh fills the room, and I smile as I watch him try to put it out but it’s not going to happen.
Ever so slowly, the fire crawls up his legs and catches his T-shirt. I walk over to the girl and light her on fire as well. I’m not going to go through the trouble of removing them from her apartment and burying them behind the Cathedral. I’m going to leave a trail that saysI’m looking for my wife, and anyone who stands in my way will burn.
This is my statement to anyone who had a hand in taking my wife. I’m coming for you.
We fall into Ryat’s car, and we watch people start to run out of the apartment complex as flames start to crawl over the building. I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do. For all the bodies I’m going to leave in my wake.
Why? Because the villain doesn’t give two shits about the world. All he cares about is the one thing that calms his demons, and that person for me is Lake. If I don’t have her, they take control, and all they know is to destroy.
Ryat holds up a cell phone and I take it from him. It belonged to Beau. I pull up his messages and start to read over them. It doesn’t take me long to find what I need.
FIFTY-THREE
TYSON
My wife has been missing for five days, and I’m no closer to finding her. I thought I was losing my mind, but I’ve officially gone manic. Lack of sleep will do that to you.
I pace the room, my bloody hands down by my side. Some mine, mixed with others. “Where is my wife?” My voice is as rough as I look. I can’t even remember the last time I showered or ate something.
“I … I don’t know.”
I swing, my fisted hand connecting with the guy’s jaw, making him cry out like a little bitch. I’ve always preferred to fight with my hands rather than a gun or a knife. Hand to hand is so much more personal. It sends a message that I’m not afraid to fuck myself up, and I’ll take anyone down with me.
“And you?” I walk over to the other man hanging from the ceiling. His arms tied above his head as he still rocks back and forth from the last fist to his stomach. “Still don’t know where she’s at, I suppose?”
His head hangs back, his body pulled tight. He’s naked and covered in blood. I took a knife to his leg a few hours ago just because. He’ll hang here like the piece of rotting meat he is until I get what I want or decide to kill him.
“She’s … dead,” he grinds out.
I refuse to believe that. It wouldn’t make sense for whoever has her to kill her. I’d give up my life for her. That has to be their plan, right? A trade? Me for her? Otherwise, why would they take her from me? “You better hope not.”
I punch him in the throat and his body jerks in the chains while he coughs and sputters. “Beau sent you a text the night of the fire. Told you that Lake was at Blackout. Why?”
It’s ironic that the two guys I was chasing down the night of the fire are the same two who were at Blackout. I don’t have concrete evidence that they had help in kidnapping my wife, but why the fuck would they care that my wife was up at the club? I don’t believe in coincidences.
Neither of them says anything, and I pop my split knuckles while Ryat sits over in the corner of the room, straddling a chair backwards with his arm lying across the top. He’s helped me the last few days. After I set Beau and his bitch on fire, we’ve watched these two for two days. It was all I could take. They weren’t leading me anywhere and I was tired of waiting.
Lowering my hand, I twirl my bloody wedding ring, my body so tense I’m about to snap like a rubber band.
“Did you contact Bethany and tell her that Lake was there?” I demand, trying to put the pieces together. None of it makes sense. Beau messaged them that my wife was at the club, but their phones had nothing to Bethany. How did she know Lake was there?
