I couldn’t speak. There were no words. Only memories, feelings, a whirlwind of emotions. The longer I stood there looking at him, the more it all started to settle in.
He was there, the one chained, vulnerable, and hurt. Not me. Him. The devil who took pleasure in my suffering. The man who laughed when I screamed. The man who grunted like an animal when he forced his vile cock inside me.
The man who made me bleed.
“What’s the matter, pretty boy? Don’t have the balls to finish me yourself?”
Ink circled me, standing like a wall in front of me while glaring at Slither. “I see you’re back to being yourself again. That trip you took down Memory Lane sure fucked you up. You cried like a little girl.” Ink leaned to the side. “In fact, I think you might have shit yourself.”
Slither snarled, his forehead creased and nose scrunched.
Ink stepped out from in front of me. “She’s here to take what’s rightfully hers.”
“And what’s that?” Slither smirked.
“Justice.”
Maniacal laughs erupted, and I jolted from fright. “And here I thought she was here for my cock again.”
Anger sparked, and I balled my fists, thinking about him and how my screams only turned him on more. The idea of feeling him inside me, feeling his hands burn my skin had me swallowing down bile.
“Don’t look at me like that, little pixie. Like I disgust you.”
“Disgust isn’t a strong enough word,” I seethed.
“I’m glad to know I’ve left such an impression on you.” He smiled before his head lolled down. Even I could see he was exhausted, but it didn’t douse the flames of his arrogance, the way he still taunted me.
Ink approached me. “I know this is hard.” His words were soft so Slither couldn’t hear. “And I know you doubt me right now, probably thinking I’m an asshole for doing this. But you need to continue to trust me.”
“Do the others know?”
He backed down a little. “Only Manic.”
“Why haven’t you told Granite or Onyx about this?” I was holding on to my last thread of control.
“It’s complicated.”
I stepped forward, pushing myself up on my toes to get in his face. “Try me.”
“Babe, you know I can’t discuss club shit with you.”
“And this is club shit?” I snapped. “Kidnapping and torturing the man who let his men rape me repeatedlyafterhe was done with me? Is thatclub shitto you? Because I’m pretty sure if it was, Granite and Onyx would be down here with us right now.”
Ink wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and it only took me a second to figure out why he didn’t tell the others.
“You’re not sure if they would let you torture him to death, are you?”
Without looking at me, he replied with a hard voice laced in hate. “At first, it was just about me wanting this fucker’s blood on my hands, and my hands only.” He paused. “But turns out the Sixes have a score to settle with him as well, and, babe…I ain’t sharing.”
A soft cackle came from the back. “I sure am popular in this city, everyone wanting a piece of me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Ink spat out his words dripping with disdain, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. He turned back to me. “You know as much as I do that this is the only way for you to finally move the fuck on. This man broke you, made you bleed. Now it’s your turn to do the same to him.”
“Ink, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” He grabbed my shoulders, lowering himself so he could look me in the eye. “At first, I wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to bring you down here. But now…now I know it is.” His fingers tightened. “I have no doubt in my mind that this is what you need. This is what you need to finally be able to move on.”
Determination and surety burned behind his irises, his expression hardened yet confident. For the longest time, I stared at him, my thoughts scattered in different directions. I’d be lying if I said I had never thought about it—about killing Slither. Slicing his flesh and watching it gape while blood oozed out of it. In fact, I’d dreamed about it more than I’d ever care to admit. To have his screams drown out my own and have his level of pain surpass mine. There were times my thoughts had me questioning my own fucking sanity, thinking of his blood filling the grout in the tiles, tainting it with the evil that clung to the crimson color of his miserable fucking existence. But I never thought—even for a moment—that I’d be given the chance, and if so, whether I’d take it.