31
Arjen
Charging around the cabin to the door, I prayed that in their haste to rip each other’s clothes off, they had left the door unlocked. Steam blew from my nostrils as my grip tightened around my pistol. A gentle twist of the knob sprang the door open, but it didn’t matter because I was furious enough to shoot the motherfucker off the hinges to get to my cheating wife.
The slow creek of the door sounded, opening into the cabin’s interior, and allowing me to hear better the confirmation that there was forbidden activity taking place inside.
Death had descended, and his name was Arjen Vallin. They didn’t call me Loud for nothing because death was creeping into this scene unexpectantly. Whoever he was, he was dying for touching my wife. I didn’t give a damn if she was the one who initiated their affair either.
“Mecca!” I yelled, but she didn’t acknowledge my call. From where I stood, it appeared she was in a rage induced trance as she struck the man at her feet repeatedly with a blunt object.
What kind of twisted bloody sex was she into? I would have never agreed to that type of abuse. She had snatched the SM from BDSM.
“Mecca!” I yelled louder. This time, my call stopped her mid-strike, but she didn’t look in my direction. She stared straight ahead for a paused moment before she turned her face in my direction.
“What are you doing?” A few more cautious steps dragged me deeper into her chaos and dialed down the intensity on my urge to kill.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she questioned, not answering my question. The rage in her face gave her the appearance of a hell’s angel who had stormed the fiery halls to find her prey.
What I’d assumed was a baseball bat was actually the thick wooden leg of the overturned table. Blood dripped from the wood, falling onto the man at her feet, beaten, battered, and knocking on death’s door. My eyes did a quick once over, noticing that a struggle had taken place.
“Did that motherfucker attack you?”
In the blink of an eye, I had my weapon aimed at the man spitting out blood and what I think were a few of his teeth. What appeared to be one of his long dreadlocks was hanging from the wood. Apparently her hard pounding had ripped it from his skull. Good. He deserved every bit of pain he was suffering for putting his damn hands on my wife.
“I was the one doing the attacking.” She finally answered my question. “This nasty motherfucker has a penchant for kidnapping innocent young girls and raping and beating them.”
Stunned, I stood and allowed her words to sink in. She bent and shoved what appeared to be a bloody sock in the man’s damaged mouth. She wasn’t cheating on me. She was delivering street justice to a piece of shit that deserved it.
“I was also attempting to beat answers out of this fucking useless parasite, but he stopped talking and begged me to kill him. So…” She shrugged. “I’m giving him what he asked for.”
Her gaze was so filled with hate for the man it seeped out of her and touched me.
“I have reason to believe he was also one of Raymond’s spies.”
My eyes fell to the sniveling man, a spy for her despicable uncle, and a rapist. Now, I understood her rage and her luring him to one of the most desolate places in the area. She didn’t fit the profile of a serial killer but based on her backstory and this scene at a glance, she had killed many more than I believe she had told me about. She was the scariest kind of killer. The kind you would never see coming for you. The kind you would look at and dismiss as a killer.
She was also using a weapon of her choosing as her gun sat tucked into the back of her jeans. Hearing her tell her story and seeing a part of it being carried out, were two different perceptions to grasp. Standing above the half-dead man, I was finally getting the visual insight to match her history.
“Is this how you end up with those bruises that you never want to explain? Those off the grid trips you take when you ditch security?”
“Yes, and sometimes,” she answered.
She held my stare with the bloody leg gripped tight in her hands. The groaning man laying at our feet could wait because we were having a much-needed couple’s discussion.
“You probably thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?” She smirked, knowing my ego had never been put through any real stress where women were concerned.
“What? No. Of course I didn’t think you were cheating.” I lied, and she knew it.
I reached for the bloody chunk of wood in her hand.
“Let me have it. You’re going to end up getting a splinter.”
She glared, her eyes unblinking and zeroed in on mine, like I was taking her favorite toy away.
“Let me,” I insisted. “You’re going to mess up your nails. You had them done yesterday, and they are lovely.”
She edged the wood down, her eyes on her nails. If she hadn’t figured it out by now, I noticed everything about her and was as crazy as she was turning out to be.