The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,79
is though.
We clear the place in twenty minutes and we only find three of the six rapists. I get them naked and hog-tied, kneeling on the floor in the dining room. The entire fucking room has my blood boiling in rage, every detail of it exactly how my girl described.
Even the salivating dogs.
I get Harbin to clean up his mess at the front door a little, just enough that when Alcatron and the other two get back they won’t just high tail it out of here.
Then we wait.
I would wait here all fucking fucking night if I have to but luckily it only takes an hour for the last of the Alcatron cartel to arrive home.
The door opens and they walk in, faltering and swearing in Spanish at the blood. I keep the smirk off of my face at the sound of their shock and fury.
I want them pissed off. I want them fucking seething because it’ll only make this that much sweeter.
I stick the cigarette between my lips and light it, sucking in a deep lungful of smoke and holding it in my chest so I feel the burn. The smell wafts through this hellhole and I know the second the cartel smell it. It calls to them, leading them straight to where I’m sitting at the head of the table, right in Alcatron’s seat. I’m the fucking picture of relaxed, my arms loose and my feet planted in the carpets like there aren’t twelve men armed to their teeth stalking into the room in anger at the carnage that’s been left for them.
The dogs chained to the wall behind me growl, but I lean down to pick up the severed hand at my feet, tossing it over for them to fight over. They downed the steaks in a matter of seconds when we arrived and now I’m getting them to start the clean up.
“¿Quien fregados eres, y que estas haciendo en mi casa?”
I don’t speak a lick of Spanish so I ignore him, sucking on my cigarette like I couldn’t give less of a fuck about them all.
It’s half-true.
I care a helluva lot about their sins and the penance they’ll pay. I care about their screaming, blood-soaked deaths, and their hearts sitting in my jars. My hands itch for my cleavers, for the bone saw and the fucking filet knife I have waiting for them but I wait. Patience is key and their deaths are going to be worth every fucking second of searching and all of the favors I’ve called in. Fuck, I’d have bankrupted myself just to get this fucking moment.
I don’t care about their weapons and the threat that they pose… not at all, because I have everything I fucking need right here. I have my own weapons and enough surprises waiting for them.
Alcatron speaks again but I shake my head at him.
“We both know you speak English, Alcatron. Now is the time to start pleading for your worthless life.”
His nostrils flare at me and when he speaks spit comes flying out of his mouth, “My life? Pendejo, you are forgetting you are in my house, surrounded by my men, sitting in my motherfucking chair. You are the one who is about to die.”
He moves like he’s going for the gun strapped to his hip but the cold barrel of Roxas’s gun pressing against the base of his skull stops him.
The smirk on my face only gets wider.
“You think I’d spend fucking months looking for this little rock of yours, the one you hide under, just to show up here and let you kill me? Nah, that’s not my style.”
Harbin and Roxas move to disarm all of the men, the other Unseen moving without orders to strip the cartel until all six of the rapists are on their knees without a fucking stitch of clothing between them.
The Unseen kill the rest, bullets in their brains executioner style.
“All of this over some puta? Only weak men fall in line over a woman.”
Maybe I’ll carve his tongue out with his heart to give to my girl, hand over that organ in his head that just keeps stoking the flames of my rage higher and higher.
“You rapists keep saying that shit to me but I’m sitting here, clothed and in control, while you’re over there with your pencil dick out and your knees shaking because you know you’re about to die. Lemme tell you, Alcatron, you’re not afraid enough yet.”