The blade sinks in with sickening ease. He howls,body twisting hard enough to make the chains scream. Blood pours in thick, warm rivers down his torso, running between the seams of his ribs and dripping to the drain below.
R A P I S T
When it’s done, I step back and admire my work. The letters are jagged, uneven, leaking red like a fucked-up confession.
“Rapist,” A lethal growl rips from my lips as I brush a thumb across the raw edges. “Now, even hell will know what you are.”
Bradley’s half conscious and gurgling. He sags forward as much as the chains allow. But he’s alive. Still breathing. Still capable of experiencing more pain.
Kade exhales beside me. “You done?”
“Not even close. He’s still conscious.”
Kade laughs from behind me, the sound sharp. “Give it a minute. I’ll fix that.” He steps forward, boots slapping wet tile, and flicks his boning knife like it’s a toy. “You want fingers? Or toes?” He glances at me, eyes too bright. “We could count ’em off like a little nursery rhyme.”
“Fingers first.” I chuckle at Kade’s psychotic nature. “Buckle up, Bradley, he can get real creative sometimes.”
Proving my point, a devilish grin creeps across my brother’s face as he drags the knife along our captive’s knuckles. “This little piggy for hurting Noah. This little piggy for inviting his friends. This little piggy for payback. And this little piggy… for revenge.”
Bradley flinches at my brother’s deranged attempt at poetic justice accompanied by the blade, the laughter. It doesn’t matter. I don’t stop him. Kade’s in his element now, pacing behind the body like a goddamn hyena, whistling something low and tuneless under his breath.
He grabs Bradley’s wrist, presses the tip of the blade to the soft webbing between two fingers.
The moron jerks, whimpering. His whole body trembles with the kind of fear that pisses itself—literally. The stench of ammonia hits a second later, and Kade draws back with a grin. “You made a little-boy mess. How embarrassing.”
Normally, my brother’s lack of sanity would concern me, but under these circumstances, I’m thoroughly enjoying it.
Bradley shrieks as Kade slices clean through his joint, then holds up the dismembered middle finger. “Look at that, Brad.” He tosses the finger at his face. “Now you can go fuck yourself.”
At the far end of the room, the meat grinder waits in the shadows, silent but hungry. I tip my chin toward it. “I say we chop him up into pieces and mince him.”
Kade whistles low, delighted. “Sir Piggins and Miss Piggy are gonna eat like royalty tonight.”
Then, quieter, almost reverently, I grit, “You hear that, Brad? You’re about to be useful for the first time in your fucking life.”
Grabbing hold of the electric winch controls, I lower the sack of shit to the ground and unchain him. His body has all but given up as he lies bloody and broken and begging for leniency. “I don’t want to die.” Bradley lets out a defeated sob, one that echoes off the bloodstained walls and vanishes somewhere in the distance.
I grab him by the ankle, my grip tightening as I lead him to his bitter end. “Now you know how it feels to beg for mercy—and be ignored.”
“You won’t get away with this. I’m entertainment royalty,” he gurgles through spit and snot. “They’ll find out who did this to me.” As he attempts escape, his body is uncooperative—the same way Noah’s was that night. He didn’t offer her a reprieve, so I’ll extend the same courtesy to him.
Dropping to my haunches, I look him dead in the eye. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re not the first man to wander onto this ranch and disappear into the darkness. This is my show. This is for Noah. For every time she was afraid. For every tear she shed. For every single piece of her you thought you could own.”
He knows what’s coming.
I flip the switch to turn on the grinder. It starts low, a rumble that vibrates throughout the building, instilling fear as it rises to a grating churn, all whirring blades and metallic gnashing.
In the end, there’s no mercy here—just retribution.
“Say goodbye, Bradley. The show’s over.”
EPILOGUE: NOAH
TWO MONTHS LATER, OCTOBER
From our porch, my eyes wander over snowcapped peaks that rise above the multihued hillside where our home is nestled. I drag in a grounding breath—and for the first time in ages, my mind is calm. My soul is free. And my heart is full.
News updates about Bradley have finally died down. He’s presumed to be on the run after what he did to me. They haven’t found him. They won’t, of course. He’ll never hurt me again. I don’t know the specifics of how Rhett dealt with him, and that’s for the best.
