I suppose it would be tougher to wait until the babies are born, huh?
I want to keep every moment, every kick, all of it to ourselves to savor it. I’m not sure how the doctor from Cassidy’s past decided that she was too scarred to be able to get pregnant, but he’s an asshat.
Clara and Winchell are hanging from hooks from the ceiling when we walk into a back room. My nose twitches unhappily at the smell of dampness, and Lyle sighs.
“Yeah, I’m pissed about that too,” he mutters. “Somehow, we had a leak back here, and now the pump is threatening to back up. Have your fun, and then I’ll have someone add an attachment to the pump so you can have more fun. I can reverse the flow on the pump for you.”
“Damn, you’re the best,” Abbott says with a grin.
“Thankfully, his gifts to us come differently packaged,” Easton says with a smirk. “Need anything else?”
Glancing at the wooden work table set up, I see cutting shears, blow torches, brands, hatchets, hammers, nail guns, knives, and so much more. Winchell and Clara are still completely clothed, though Clara is no longer wearing the high heels from the auction.
That’s not a surprise, but it would have been fun to use the heels to poke holes in her body.
“Is there any way you still have her shoes?” Bellamy asks, biting his lip as he stares at her. “She used her stupid fucking heels like a weapon.”
“Turn about is fair play,” Winter adds.
If they’re asking, I can’t imagine how many times the sound of her heels would make them tense. There are many ways to groom your prisoners to fear you, especially when it's something as simple as hearing you walk.
“I do,” Silas says, stepping outside to find them. He comes back quickly, the offending shoes dangling from his fingers. “They’re gaudy, aren’t they?”
“Terribly so,” Cassidy says in her best snobbish tone as Silas grins and places the shoes on the table.
Winter licks her lips as she picks up a pair of cutting shears, and Clara begins to kick and scream.
That’s not gonna work.
“You don’t need working legs, do you, Clara?” I ask, waking over and catching one of her legs as she kicks at me. Lifting my leg, I break her femur by cracking it over my thigh. Then I do the same with her other leg as she screams.
A protective feeling floods my veins as I glare at her, and I really just want to break her fucking neck.
“Not yet, Ansel,” Cassidy says gently.
Taking a deep breath, I nod my head and step away from Clara before I can’t help myself.
“You have the floor,” I promise her.
“Until I have to bend down,” she teases me. “Winter, they’re wearing too many clothes right? Ansel, would you like to shatter knee caps and then break legs on ole Winchell?”
“Very old school mafia of you,” Silas observes. Pack Mayor leans against the wall as they watch, which isn’t an issue.
We don’t have performance anxiety.
“It’s effective,” I murmur, picking up a large hammer. The top is thick and heavy, and it has a nonslip handle, which I appreciate. “Hey, Winchell. I realize you probably have no idea who we are, but you fucked up.”
Stalking over to him, I catch his leg as he kicks at me, and bring down the hammer on his knee as hard as I can. The crunch is incredibly satisfying, and Abbott laughs.
We aren’t normal.
Since Clara is neutralized for now, Winter and Bellamy cut her dress off. They both pick up a shoe once she’s naked, ignoring her wide eyes. There’s no tears, simply anger. The fear will come soon.
I’m willing to bet on it.
Bellamy begins to hit Clara with the stiletto part of the shoe first, and then Winter follows. Now that both of Winchell’s kneecaps are taken care of, I back away to watch my omegas take their revenge.
“Stupid cunt,” Bellamy growls.
