Chewy stares at Rhodie for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders.
“OK, well, I have a few ideas.” Omen rubs his hands together and I take this moment to head to my woman, pulling her into my arms.
“Do you and Joe want to head back to the clubhouse? Mama Debs has the girls and they’re baking.”
She looks up at me with her big, blue eyes, then at Joe, then back at me. Selfishly, I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to see what we are capable of when it comes to people who hurt those we love. I want Loyal to keep an air of innocence about her. As soon as the thought appears in my brain I get the urge to punch myself in the face. Loyal lost her innocence years ago atthe hands of men not dissimilar to the man strapped to the chair. I search her eyes, knowing what she is going to choose.
“I want to stay here. I need to see him gone. For Joe. For Addy and Bree and their mom and anyone else he hurt.”
“OK baby, you got it. Just brace yourself, yeah?” I take in her perfectly unconcerned face and it settles in my gut that perhaps my brothers have always been right. She’s not as delicate as I treat her. She’s tough, strong and apparently, a little bloodthirsty.
Nodding at her I take her in my arms, spinning her back to my front so we can watch Omen get to work. I don’t miss how Justice positions himself behind Joe either.
“Ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready.”
Loyal
I may have told Vex a little white lie. I said I was ready to watch the DRMC cause Hitchens all manner of pain and torture, but watching as he swings from the rafters by his wrists as Omen flays him is a lot more than I bargained for.
It turns out that what me and Joe and the Girl Gang did pales in comparison to what Omen can do. It’s weird, watching a man I grew up with, one who was always so kind and gentle with me, turn so cold. There is nothing but anger and cold precision in his eyes and I can see why he was chosen for this role. Tipping my head back and twisting slightly I look up into Vex’s dark eyes. All the Landrys have the same eyes. Dark and expressive, deeppools that hide trauma and tragedy, yet how they deal with it is different. Lovely is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet and yet earlier I learned that she is extremely talented with a knife. Blanche on the other hand is a blunt instrument. She’s the one who brought down Eden’s Keep in one afternoon. Saint Landry hides his pain with jokes and laughter, Omen with blood. But Vex? His eyes have only shown me love. Even when I was on the floor in the kitchen after Goodson paid me a visit, all I saw was love. Not anger or revenge even though I know it consumed him.
“I love you, Victory ‘Vex’ Landry,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“And I love you, Loyal Landry.”
My breath hitches at his words and a stomach full of butterflies takes flight. Those six simple words make me deliriously happy, even if I’m standing in a room that has a metallic smell so thick I can almost taste it.
“You know, when I’m torturin’ I like to play a little mood music. Helps dampen the screams,” Chewy offers as she watches a hunk of Hitchens skin slap on the floor.
“That’s not a bad idea. It’ll lighten the mood a little,” Rider says.
“Anyone got a bluetooth speaker on them?” Savage asks.
Everyone is silent until Damian pipes up. “Old King Wenceslas…”
“What the fuck is it with that guy and Christmas carols?” Saint asks.
“No!” Chewy says, jabbing a finger in Damian’s direction. She frowns for a moment, before turning thoughtful. “Can you sing any classics? NOT Christmas carols.”
“How classic?” Damian asks, mid-song.
“Let’s go with the 80’s, kid,” Pops says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Without a thought Damian bursts into something about wanting to dance with somebody.
“That’ll do,” Chewy nods, then gestures to Omen to keep going.
* * *
Omen drops the knife from his hand, clearly done with flaying. He waves at Chef who climbs the ladder Pops was on earlier and cuts Hitchens from the rafters. He lands on the ground in a heap, the close up damage to his back causes my stomach to lurch. Now his hands are free he scratches at his arms and face, his breathing still irregular but at least his screams have slowed a little. Although that could be because his voice started to break during Damian’s song.
“Leave him there,” Omen orders.
He moves toward the two presidents where they murmur to each other. Omen has been peppering Hitchens with questions the whole time he’s been working on him. Some of the answers made my stomach turn, others made me see red until I had to take a breath and blank out his voice. It’s not my role to hear his confessions. I’m only here to see his life end.
“I think we have what we need,” Marx murmurs.
