Because if I thought for one second, they would all knowingly do those things, then the people I’ve known my whole life were no better than the man hanging before me.
He moaned, “Help me.”
Stepping back, I fell back onto the old chair, never taking my eyes off him. This was a mistake. It had to be.
How was he here? Why was he here?
Nothing made sense.
Memories of my time in Maine came flashing back as Axel walked into the small motel room where I waited with Luciano. He had Colin in his hands. I was so happy to see my son, I barely looked at Axel. Thinking back on it now, I remembered seeing blood on him, but I overlooked it. Then Reggie arrived. His hands were swollen and covered in blood. His shirt was soaked. Yet, all I saw was my son and the man who promised me he would do anything to get him back.
I didn’t ask where they were all going when they left me at the motel, and I didn’t care. At the time, I just wanted my son. I remember Reggie promising me that our son would be in my arms before the night was over, and when Colin was, I tuned everything else out.
Now, sitting in the old chair in the basement of the Valentinetti house, I started to realize precisely what Reggie meant when he said that he would do anything to make sure Colin was back where he belonged. In fact, everyone said that, from the members of the Golden Skulls to members of the Valentinetti family.
Staring at my hands, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. My hands were red, like the tools, the table, and the rags. When reality hit me, everything became more apparent. It wasn’t paint on my hands, but blood, and I could see it staining my skin. In that instant, I knew.
I was starting to understand what they meant.
I knew how they could be so confident, so sure it would happen.
The man I loved, the club he belonged to, the family that would always have his back, they were all one and the same.
They were the darkness that lurked in the shadows.
When everyone else would run away, they would embrace it.
They needed it.
They craved it.
They couldn’t live without it.
“Help me,” he moaned again.
Slowly raising my eyes from my hands, I stared at the man hanging before me. A wave of anger rumbled so deep in my bones it stole my breath. Consumed me until all I saw was the red on my hands. I didn’t think while getting to my feet because if I did, I would never go through with this.
I now understood the need for revenge. I now understood what drove all these men to do whatever it was they did. They needed the absolution. They needed the release. Without it, their anger would consume them.
Before I could blink, I was standing before the man. His eyes were wide with fear. I knew that look well. He showed me exactly what real fear looked like. Made sure I would understand it for the rest of my days.
“Don’t,” he whispered, lightly shaking his head, his body trembling before me, rattling the chains that held him, but I wasn’t listening to him. I could only hear the fury, the rage, the pain that beat in my head and at my body. I knew I would never forgive him for what he did to me, but that didn’t mean I had to suffer his torment anymore.
His scream permeated the room as the light shining on the knife I was holding slid easily into his body. A warm liquid coated my hand as I twisted the knife, slowly taking it deeper. Looking down at my hand, I could clearly see the blade, his blood dripping from my hand.
I know I should stop, but I couldn’t.
I liked hearing him scream.
I liked knowing I was the one to cause him pain this time. That it was me that controlled his fate. He never cared about my screams, and I sure as hell didn’t give a damn about his.
“You raped me, you beat me, you tortured me,” I whispered, looking from my blood-covered hand to his shocked and fear-ridden face.
I softly smiled, “Now it’s your turn to scream.”
Thirty-Five
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