Page 22 of The Afterthought

"How the hell did you manage to get this here so quickly?"

"I've had something in the works for a while now. They were able to rush the setup with minimal questions. I told them we needed a place to store the cars we work on at the garage. We needed a more permanent solution to what we were working with before. It wasn't cheap, but I think it'll be worth the investment."

"Is it fire resistant?"

"It is. I paid extra for it. Wait until you get inside; your second surprise is there waiting for you," Knox says as he pulls the door open.

I’m practically jumping with anticipation now. We step inside, and I take it in. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the person secured to the chair in the middle of the room. Their head is drooping down as if they are unconscious with a bag over it. I look over at Knox and point my thumb toward the mysterious third party.

He walks over and rips the bag off to reveal a man with duct tape over his mouth. His entire face is covered in sweat. He looks like shit, but I instantly recognize him.

This is the fucker who was running his mouth last week. He is conveniently tied to a chair inside my new fireproof torture shed. I know it’s not a shed, but that’s what I’m going to call it. This is exactly what I need today to get my mind off of Ava and her presence in Dune Valley.

"Thank you, brother." I give him a sinister smile, and he nods at me before walking back toward the entrance.

"Make sure he knows who he fucked with, but don't kill him, Grey." Without another word, he steps out of the shed and leaves me alone with my prey.

I look around the room to acquaint myself while the guy quietly watches me. He knows what is coming and isn't wasting any energy trying to fight his fate. I can almost respect that a little. Too bad for him. I'm in a mood today, and I need to release some pent-up energy.

I turn to the right and notice some large shelves filled with various torture devices. My eyes instantly go to the shelf filled with the different blowtorches. I'm so giddy I practically skip over to grab one of the butane torches. Now that I'm closer, I eye up the metal pieces on one of the other shelves and grab one that is about twelve inches long with a rounded point to it. The last thing I grab is a glove to hold the metal bar with. I can tell these are specific for holding hot metal. They couldn’t have been cheap.

The excitement coursing through my bones almost makes up for the fact that Ava hasn't left town yet. Next to the shelves is a small stool with a round seat on wheels, and I kick it in the direction of my tied-up victim. I decide I have everything I need for now, so I walk over to smile down at him.

I set all of my things down on the floor and rip the duct tape off of his face, not caring whether or not it pulls off some of his beard. It definitely pulled off some of his beard.

"Fuck you and the Crimson Rose." He spits, making me laugh hysterically in his face.

"You're awfully brave for a guy who is tied up and about to get tortured. Do you know who I am?"

"Trash," he replies, spitting toward my feet.

I lean in with a cocky smile on my face. "Sometimes the guys on the street call me Coal. I've come to wear it like a badge of honor."

His eyes widen, and I know he knows who I am now. My reputation speaks for itself. People call me Coal because of how I like to torture my victims. It was the main reason I wanted to join the gang life, to finally have a way to express my urges. I've been known to do as little as brand people and go as far as burning them alive. This guy is lucky I'm not allowed to kill him. Today, he will only have to withstand a few burns. It's really nothing the body can't handle.

"Not so tough now, are you?" I chuckle. "Want to know why you're here? I shouldn't bother telling you because I don't need a reason, but I think you might be a bit curious."

He keeps a straight face, refusing to say anything further. I expected this. He won't betray his gang by speaking to me. He knows every word I get is a small victory. The Crimson Rose and Cobras have been at each other's throats for years. Just like their name, they're a bunch of snakes.

I pull out my small pocketknife and make various cuts along the fabric of his shirt, causing it to fall to the ground. When I'm done with him, he isn't going to want that irritating his skin anyway. I'm really doing him a favor. I lean down to grip the small butane torch in my hand, admiring how perfectly my fingers fill the grooves of the handle. This one might become my new favorite toy outside of my lighter.

My eyes light up as I flip on the torch. Flames woosh out of the end, and I watch as the moment the look on this asshole's face goes from cocky to pure terror. He shakes around in the chair to try and free himself, but he isn't going anywhere.

I flip off the torch to grab the glove off of the floor and slip it on before bending down to grip the metal bar with the glove. I turn the torch back on and bring the bright blue flames over to the tip of the metal, watching as one end of the metal heats and turns a vibrant orange hue.

I step behind him and lower the hot metal onto his back. His screams tear through the room as I focus on the sound of his sizzling skin. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air around us. I make a mental note to wear a mask next time, so I don't have to smell it. I repeat the process over and over again, listening as he screams out in terror. Chunks of melted skin stick to the end of the metal. I can't help but feel increasingly at ease with every burn inflicted on him. It's like I'm transferring everything I feel directly through the scorching metal.

Time goes on, and I lose myself in my work. I didn't notice that he stopped screaming at some point. His head is slumped forward, likely passed out from the immense pain. Pussy. I just have one last thing to burn into him before I'm satisfied with this job.

I toss the hot metal aside and pull the glove off my hand, letting it fall to the floor. I place the torch next to it. The lighter that resides in my pocket finds its way to my hand, and I flip it on. For a brief moment, I stare into the dancing orange flame before bringing it to my finger to heat the end of the ring on my middle finger.

This has become my signature. Nobody gets away from my torture without carrying my mark. Once I'm sure the ring is warm enough to sear his skin but not hot enough to burn mine, I step forward and shove my fist into the back of his neck, searing my mark into him. I give it a few seconds before stepping back and admiring my work.

A small skull with my initials in its empty eye sockets now sits near the burn marks I left on him. It's my own personal signature for my artwork. God, it feels fucking good to focus on what I love again.

Finally, I feel relaxed. I definitely needed this. I'll have to make sure that Knox has someone else lined up for me soon. I have a feeling I'm going to need to scratch this itch more often than before.

As long as Ava stays in town, I'm going to be on edge. I'm going to have to get myself together because if Knox thinks she is any kind of issue, he will have to intervene. He can't have his star pupil being distracted.

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