A few silent seconds ticked by, then the Handler started screeching, wildly cursing them, calling them nasty names, throwing out obscenities. When the screaming stopped, and a smothered hum took its place, Tristan thought maybe they stuffed something in his mouth.
"What should we do first?" Cade asked calmly.
Tag answered conversationally, "I thought we could use my new drill to remove their kneecaps."
"Hmm, that's good, but I was thinking we could hack off their dicks with a blunt saw."
"Ahh, I like that. We'll start with your idea, then move on to mine."
"Sounds good."
One of them closed the door to the garage, dampening the sounds from behind it, and Tristan was relieved that he could barely hear the muted noises — faint wails, the low purr of a drill, muffled clangs of metal against concrete.
He closed his eyes tight, fighting a tinge of nausea as he tried not to imagine any details of what was happening. Pangs of sympathy and bouts of repulsion surfaced a few times, but when he imagined his sister's torment, multiplied by hundreds or even thousands of victims, he suddenly didn't care if those monsters suffered; all he felt was satisfaction that they would never hurt anyone else.
Maybe that made him a horrible person, maybe it meant he was fucked up, but he didn't care.
He was unsure how long he waited there on the sofa, but when the noises trickled to whispers, Tristan strained to hear what was happening in the garage. Eyes still closed, he made out soft rustling, running water, and murmuring, hushed voices.
After several minutes of quiet stirrings, Cade returned to him, looking serious and tired. He had changed clothes, his hair was wet and disheveled, and his face was drawn into a deep frown.
To Tristan, he looked perfect.
Cade told him, "It's done."
When Tristan only nodded, Cade stepped closer and looked down at him. "Are you okay?"
Was he okay?
Those pieces of shit who trafficked his sister and tried to sell him would never hurt another soul, would never profit from someone else's torture.
Yeah, he could live with that.
"I'm okay. Thank you, Cade, for doing that for me. For keeping your promise."
Expression softening, Cade said, "I'd do anything for you, Tris."
Tristan knew in his heart that Cade meant it, that he wouldn't have said it otherwise. The simple, earnest statement felt like a declaration of love, and it filled Tristan with warmth.
Lip wobbling, he teased, "You can't just say stuff like that."
"Like what?" Cade asked, looking confused.
Tristan snorted softly. This man had no idea of how sweet those words were, how deeply they affected Tristan, how they made him feel valued and made his heart flutter.
"Nothing. I'll explain later. Are we ready to go?"
Cade held out a hand. "Let's get out of here."
Chapter 22: Relief
Cade
After the wet work, all Cade wanted was to get back to Tristan, to touch something solid that represented the good in the world and the reason he sometimes did horrible things.
He didn't enjoy the wet work. Really, who would, except for psychopaths?
It's not that it bothered him; mostly, it was just messy and tedious. It didn't make him feel sick or nauseated or even guilty.
