“Is it wrong that I want to brand him as a rapist so the words follow him into the afterlife?” I ask softly, my eyes on the brand on the ground.
“Labels are powerful,” Nico murmurs.
“How does the brand work?” Dario asks, fixing his glasses. There’s a drop of blood obscuring his vision and I pull off my bloody gloves and reach for them. Taking them off, he grimaces as he sees what I did and hands me his glasses to clean.
“It’s wireless,” Grant explains. “I click it on after I arrange the letters the way I want, and then you can burn them wherever you want. I bought it online. It’s meant for wood burning, but works in a pinch for flesh as well.”
“I want to do it,” I confess, checking Dario’s glasses for any hint of blood before handing it back to him. Nico helps me put my gloves on, glancing at the bits of fingers on the ground.
“He passed out, Rosa,” Grant mutters, starting to put together the branding kit. “Stabbing or fire will help him wake up.”
Since stabbing the bastard is sure to be a good time, I pick up my discarded knife and dig it into Elio’s hip. I make sure to rock it back and forth for maximum effect, singing, “Wakey, wakey, hands off snakey!”
“Fuck you!” he yells. “Leave me alone!”
His alpha bark attempts to roll over me while Ciro punches my uncle in the face for his audacity, and I feel…nothing.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I ask cheerfully. Well, I pretend to be cheerful because all I can hear is the blood roaring in my ears from the remembered terror of my father’s alpha bark. My hand shakes as I pull my knife out only to stab him again.
My eyes flutter as I force myself to breathe. I cannot have a panic attack while killing my uncle. Absolutely not.
“Alpha barks don’t seem to have the same effect as they once did,” Dario grunts, idly picking up some pliers and beginning to tear off Elio’s toe nails. “All the same, it’s disrespectful as fuck to use it against her. At least have the courage to die with some self respect.”
“The drugs were supposed to keep you pliant. Renzo promised he could keep his monster contained!”
“Do I look contained, or demure?” I ask, scoffing as I stab the fucker again to get my bearings. Nico squeezes my hand, taking my knife as he kisses my temple.
“A monster’s ability to serve its master ends when she slips her leash,” he says conversationally, digging the knife into Elio’s thigh. He does it in between the wire accents to his skin, watching as the blood runs down it.
Nico sends understanding and adoration through the bond, and I take a deep, shaky breath at how he sees me.
“Rosa has not only broken the leash, she can never be caged again. The drugs are leaving her system, and I think leaving her immune to weak alpha barks. Hell, she may even be immune to all of them,” he growls. “Renzo and your entire family fucked up, Elio.”
“Where do you want the brand?” Grant asks, showing me the red letters burning with heat.
“His chest please,” I rasp. My body feels imbalanced and shaky, and I’m content to watch as Grant presses the brand into Elio’s skin.
He screams and screams, and Carter rolls his eyes and hands me something.
“A grenade?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Pull the pin and shove it into his mouth. Make sure he hears you tell him what it is,” he says softly. “His tongue will hold down the safety lever. He’ll have to decide whether or not it’s worth having his head blown off. If he decides it is, then we get guts rained all over us. It’s nothing a good scrubbing won’t take care of.”
He’s so blase about it, I can’t help but grin. It helps beat back some of my monsters, and once Grant moves, I hold the grenade over Elio’s face, waiting for him to focus on it.
“Shhh. Be a good boy and eat this for me.”
I pull the pin and he begins to piss himself as he grinds his teeth together. Ah, he thinks I can’t shove this in his mouth if he won’t open his mouth. Cute.
“Open wide!” Ciro’s voice booms as he and Nico shove a burning hot, pointed fireplace poker into my uncle’s asshole.
“Ahhhh! Fuck!”
I cram the grenade into Elio’s mouth before he can shut it again, enjoying the way the fear finally crawls into his gaze.
“Not only are you incontinent in your old age,” I say, getting to my feet as I glance at the piss the guys managed to avoid, “but you’re also a royal pain in the ass. If I use the flamethrower with that in his mouth, what will happen?”
“It’ll turn into shrapnel. In order to be on the safe side, we’ll pack up and move back. Once he explodes, the rest of the house should slowly go up along with him. It’ll get rid of most of the evidence,” Grant says easily.
