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“He had his head covered,” Cut says from behind me.

“Oh, well that bit of news gives me the warm and fuzzies,” I say as I stomp through the dirt, making my way to the storage area of the building.

Walking into the storage room of the clubhouse, I see that fucker Cruise standing next to a man tied to a plastic chair, still wearing a black fucking pillowcase over his head. My eyes roll at the immaturity of the situation.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cruise looks pleased with himself, but little does he know that he’s a fucking amateur playing with the big boys. “What?” he questions.

“First off, fuck face, you never shit where you sleep.” Kicking the leg of the plastic chair, I use enough force to break it causing the scumbag to land on his side. His groans are mumbled from behind the fucking bed sheet. “Meaning, you don’t bring shit home.”

“Well, he didn’t know it was home before you opened your big mouth.”

I shake my head. “And plastic? You need them secure. Plastic breaks.” I kick the broken leg. “Exhibit A.”

“What the fuck ever! I don’t know why you’re even here, Lick. I got this.”

“Evidently, you don’t, or I wouldn’t be here. Now, bring Daddy a metal chair.”

Cruise listens without another word. Once I place the fucker back in the chair and make sure he’s tied and not going anywhere, I begin to have my fun.

“Fuck you,” he spits in my face.

The fact that he no longer has any front teeth and his lip is pretty much a meaty piece of flesh hanging from his face has his ability to spit turning into more of a spray. I’m sure there’s a mixture of blood, snot, and salvia dripping down my face, but I don’t give a shit. It’s been far too long for this type of release.

Like always, I picture all the bastards who took from me. My mother, she’s always in the forefront of my mind, and of course, Teddy. Now there’s this other fucker who’s trying to take from me, and I can’t allow that. This time it isn’t about anything sexual either. It’s about those kids and the possibility of them being taken from me.

I can’t have that.

“I have to say, you’re a tough one.” I’m leaning into him, pushing my thumbs into holes that I’ve carved into his forearms between the radius and the ulna. I know I hit the bone a couple of times. That’s what happens when you don’t get to use your knives as often as you’d like. They tend to become dull.

My hands are covered in his blood, warm to the touch, welcoming. “I’ve run outta patience,” I tell him. “The smell of your blood is no longer exciting, so I’ve got to cut this short. Places to go and all.”

One more push into his flesh as he tightens his eyes in agony. I’d be shocked if this piece of shit’s mother will be able to identify his body. He’s more broken than Humpty Fucking Dumpty.

When I cut my eyes to Cruise, I give him a nod. For once we’re on the same wavelength. He steps forward and takes the fuckers head in his hands. Tilting his head back, he keeps it steady.

“Now, I need a location. We already know the prick’s name, and what he looks like. But you see, Vegas tends to be tight-lipped when it comes to outsiders, so we ain’t getting shit. Just a location, nothing more.”

I slip my bloody thumbs into the bottom of his eyes. I know it hurts like a mother fucker, and his constant moans beneath his gag tell me I’m not wrong. If I apply enough pressure, I can pop his eyeballs out. Maybe even sever them from the optical cord making him blind and broken. I can feel the loosening of his eyeball within the eye socket, and my cock hardens.

Fuck, the suffering and pain is such a turn on.

I can hear him trying to talk between the screams and moans. Pulling my thumbs from his eyes, I rip away the gag.

“I’ll tell you,” he rasps, and I know my job here is down.

“You got it from here,” I tell Cruise as I walk out, ready to get the fuck home.

The kids are in their rooms, doors shut, televisions blaring when I get home. Such an extreme difference from when I was a kid, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll spend the rest of my life working my ass off so these kids have the things they want, not only the things they need.

Jenni’s in the shower singing at the top of her lungs. I’d like nothing more than to step into that shower and get her nice and dirty, but I got shit to do.

I take my time as I wash the blood from my hands and face, knowing that I should change my shit before Roxy comes out of her room. Maggie would have a field day if word got back to them that I had blood on my clothes. Not a lie in the world would get me outta that mess. I head down the hall to the bedroom, I stop when I hear pounding on the front door. Now I’m pissed off. Yaking at the handle of the door, it swings open with ease.

“What the fuck…”

My words die as I see an older man standing on my porch. Thin face with sharp edges, and a salt and pepper goatee to match his graying slicked back hair. He’s wearing a thick wool coat and black leather gloves. His lips are in a thin line as his eyes rake over me, his eyes widening as he takes in my appearance. My bloody appearance. I can feel my blood boil as judgement rests so clearly on this son of a bitch’s face. How dare he step foot on my property, on Fury ground, and disrespect me. My jaw tics, fists clenching at my side as we have a silent standoff.