I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing here before I finally speak. “How do you want to do this?”
“Let’s do to him what he and his fucked up brother did to me,” Owen grits through clenched teeth.
I close my eyes. He’s never told a soul what happened to him there. We know it was horrific based on the state he was in when he came back. His whole body was battered and bruised, dried blood was still caked to his skin, and the number of stitches he needed only began to tell the story of what Owen faced.
“Are you sure?” I ask, trying to gauge his temperament. I don’t want him to have to relive his abuse unless he’s ready.
Cold eyes meet mine— Owen isn’t here anymore— his monster is firmly in place, ready to dole out justice that’s long overdue.
He doesn’t respond. He simply walks to the wall and pushes the button that lowers the St. Andrews cross, then heads for the closet to gather the appropriate tools.
While he’s gone, I make my way to the table Aleksi lays on and begin to unzip the bag. My hands freeze when his face comes into view. His hard features are still apparent in his sedated state.
The face of the man who grabbed me makes my heart stop in my chest. I stare at the scar that’s haunted my dreams. A long jagged line cuts diagonally across his otherwise normal face.
I’d like to know the person that put the scar there. I want to ask them why they didn’t just stab him in the eye and kill him instead.
“We need to wake him up and question him,” I state while I lean over and hoist Aleksi over my shoulder. His body being in close proximity to mine, even for this, makes me feel like a thousand fire ants are crawling on my skin.
I briefly wonder if Ariah will ever be able to touch me or if my aversion to touch will forever haunt me.
Clearing my mind of those thoughts, I quickly make my way to the chair and zip-tie him. His head still lolls to the side.
It’s time for sleeping beauty to wake the fuck up and realize there’s no handsome prince or a happily ever after for him.
I walk to the table and pick up my brass knuckles. The skulls between each groove should have the maximum impact necessary to wake his bitch ass up.
By the time I’ve returned, Owen is back with some tools of his own—the knife he used to interrogate Glen because Lola’s officially retired, a bone saw, and pliers.
“I thought we’d start off easy since we need him alive for this part,” he suggests, and a small smirk finally graces his face.
Returning his smile with one of my own, I slide the brass knuckles over my fingers, flexing them before I form a fist. I turn, pulling my arm back, and launch a punch straight to a still, very unaware Aleksi's solar plexus.
He gasps awake, cursing in Russian, his face swiveling side to side as he tries to make sense of where he is. But fuck his awareness. I rear back and launch another hit, this time an uppercut to his chin. Blood spurts from his mouth as he screams. A piece of flesh falls from his mouth, along with at least two teeth.
“The stupid fuck bit off the tip of his tongue,” Owen snickers.
Aleksi spits the excess blood at our feet, and Owen punches him in the nose. The resounding crack of bone indicates it’s broken.
“You’re going to answer our questions, or things are going to get progressively worse really quickly,” I inform him, and he throws his head back and laughs.
“You fucking kids want to play big bad men? Do you even have chest hair?” He taunts, and Owen launches at him, grabbing his already broken nose and squeezing, making Aleksi holler in pain.
“Not so funny now, you dumb fucking rapist dick,” he screams, pulling his knife to drag across the other side of Aleksi’s face. “Now your ugly can match.”
Aleksi squints. Blood drips down into his eyes as the recognition of who we are finally registers. He smiles. “Oh, it’s you. Were they ever able to stitch you up? By the time we were done with you, that asshole was a little loose. Your little dick was nice and hard after Elena rode you. You should be proud to have lost your virginity to someone like her. We made a man out of you.”
My vision blinks out, and my heart pounds in my ears. I bite my cheek so hard to prevent the scream that wants to rip out of my chest. I never saw Elena, and Owen doesn’t talk about that day— ever.
“What the fuck did you just say?” My voice sounds far off.
Aleksi’s laugh taunts me, propelling me back to that day. It’s the same scene on a loop.
I’moutside the school, being dragged by my arm. They’re pulling me toward the black car, and they have a gun to Owen’s skull.
“Stop! Stop!” I shout, but it’s too late. We’re both in the backseat of the car, and Owen’s crying.
“Shh, we have to think. What did our dads say to do?” I whisper.
