Page 6 of Wicked Revenge

They are terrified of him.

That is going to end.

Several people rush over now that the Kingsman is no longer out here, helping Mr. Henry salvage his fruit stand. Beatrice’s oldest son comes over and checks his injuries as I make my way into the alley beside the old tavern.

I guess it's time to see my best friend for the first time in five years. She probably won't recognize me, but at least I can check up on her for now.

***

The inside of Twisted Tavern is just as I remember it.

The delicious aroma of baked bread and decadent stew is enough to make my stomach grumble with the subtle reminder that just an apple for breakfast was probably not a good choice. Even if it is my favorite food. I need to get some groceries for the cottage before I starve to death.

The dim lighting works in my favor as I keep to the shadows in the dark hallway leading out to the dining hall. Ella's father, being obsessed with all things noble and knightly, made the place scream ‘medieval tavern’.

Not wanting to be noticed by anyone, I slide into the corner booth in the back. Luckily, it's lunchtime, so everyone is paying attention to their meals and hushed conversations.

My seat can't be seen from the main room, but I can see my mark. He sits with his back to me, talking loudly to two other Kingsmen.

Their presence clearly makes everyone in here uncomfortable, but they don’t have a fuck to give about it. Luckily, their raised voices work in my favor. Apart from the food, I’m here to gather information.

They speak loudly, with confidence and certainty in thinking no one will stand against them.

I recognize each of these men. I have no idea what their names are; they never told me, so I made up my own.

The one sitting across from my mark– I named him Whimper Will. He would hold me down on my stomach, lay on top of me, and just fucking whimper in my ear and pet my hair like he really thought he was showing me affection.

Weird fuck.

The bile rises in my throat just thinking about him calling me his little girl. I hope to God he doesn't have a daughter. Sick bastard. I will enjoy every second of his torment regardless but if I learn he has a child, I will peel the skin from his cock with my blade like a goddamn peach.

Sitting right next to him–Creepy Chris. He was mostly harmless but still creepy as fuck. He would come into my room while I slept. He never touched me, but I would wake up to him jerking his cock over me, spraying his cum on my face. He never spoke, just covered my face in his cum and walked back out the door to stand guard.

Creepy motherfucker.

I watch as my childhood friend makes her way over to their table, and I barely contain an audible gasp. Ella is fucking gorgeous.

Her long blonde hair is French braided down the middle of her back, the end of it brushing against her ass as she walks. She wears a full leather outfit consisting of black pants and a matching strapless corset that’s cinched up tight, pushing up her breasts and showing off her tiny waist and hips.

A full sleeve of tattoos are on display down her right arm, and I can see more peeking out of her top on her hips and back. She even has a tattoo wrapping around her throat, though she is too far away for me to make out the details… roses, maybe?

She swings her hips wide with attitude as she strolls right next to my mark and slaps him in the back of the head.

Holy fucking shit.

At least someone in this fucking place isn’t scared of these men.

“I already told you, if you keep disturbing my customers, I’m going to put my fucking foot so far up your ass you’ll taste my goddamn nail polish. Keep it down!” She says with more venom and confidence than I thought she possessed.

“Ella, you know we are just having a good time. Join us, princess,” my mark says as he grabs her waist and drags her to his lap.

Before I can even blink once, she has him by the hair and a knife at his throat.

“Don’t start with me, shit stain. I’m feeling extra stabby at the moment, and I’d hate to accidentally slit your fucking throat. What would my mother say if I stained her freshly polished floor with your blood?” Ella replies with a bored and unbothered tone.

She slams his face into the wood table top and walks to the next set of customers. Keeping her back to them, she doesn’t even bother to spare them another glance as they get up from the table to leave.

“Tip your waitress,” she yells at them while clearing the plates from her other customer’s table.

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