Page 54 of Wicked Revenge

“You strapped me to a table similar to this. Do you remember? I struggled against the restraints too, screaming for help that never came.” I don’t look at the guys while I keep moving around the table slowly, but I see them out of the corner of my eye, standing a few feet away.

They are watching my every move and listening to my story. Good. I don’t think I can deal with telling it more than once.

Pulling my dagger back from my thigh sheath, I run the tip of the blade down his skin, starting at the top of his shoulder, going down his arms and legs as I keep making slow circles around the table. I stop once I reach his head again.

“You knew what he was doing to me in that cell. It took me a long time to figure out how you connected to his agenda. You might not have hurt me like he did, but you helped him.”

I make my first shallow cut slanted across his chest, not too deep yet. Just deep enough to cause pain. He screams into his gag and bucks against the straps holding him down.

As his blood pools and drips down from the wound, I make another cut opposite of the first one, creating my signature mark in the center of his chest. I am mesmerized by the artistic beauty for a few moments at how the blood spills down his chest, the streaks running down his sides and pooling on the table below him.

I want his entire body painted red before I take his life. I want to see it running from the table and swirling down the drain below. I want to hear his screams as he begs for mercy like I did. I don’t realize I’m lost inside my head until I feel hands run up my arms.

“Can I help?” Maddox breathes into my ear, his hand sliding around my middle, underneath my shirt, pulling me back into a solid chest. A delicious shiver racks my body. I nod my head against his chest, my eyes never leaving the “x” I carved into his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispers into my ear before planting a kiss on my temple. “Do you need answers from him?”

“Yes.” My voice comes out on a breathy moan. Between the blood I’m spilling and Maddox’s hands on my body, making me feel like a live wire, ready to spark at the barest of touches.

His fingers slide into the waistband of my leggings but not going where I need him. He teases the tender flesh above my scar there, reminding me of what I’m doing right now.

I grab his hand, pushing it further down inside my leggings. “Do you feel that right there?” His fingers trace the jagged flesh, his body tensing.

“Yes, I feel it.” His voice is dripping in anger. “Who did this to you?”

“He did,” I say, my own voice lowering as the terror of that day floods my mind. Stepping out of his hold on me, I bring my dagger to the doctor's hip.

“He strapped me down like this. Took a scalpel to my skin and cut me open while I was awake, begging and pleading for him to stop, screaming for his help. He didn’t stop though. I passed out from the excruciating pain. I thought I was dead.” I feel the silent tears, my rage boiling over, making tracks down my cheeks. “Ask him why.”

My eyes meet Maddox’s darken ones, I’ve never seen him look so sexy. His jaw is clenched tight, twitching with his own rage for me. He moves slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, approaching the doctor's head.

He roughly rips off the tape holding the gag in place, yanking out the material before tossing it to the ground behind him. Royal and Alek have moved closer. Alek presses his front to my back, lending me his unwavering strength without speaking.

“Please! Please don’t kill me.”

“You heard her. Why?” Maddox asks, sneering at him with venom coloring his question, as he presses his own blade against Doc’s throat.

“I-it was K-King. He m-made m-me.” Doc rushes out, stuttering through his panic and fear. “I-I didn’t h-have a choice.”

“NO!” I scream, slamming my blade into his thigh to the hilt. His guttural scream echoes around the concrete room. “I had no choice. You, on the other hand, had plenty of choices. You just chose wrong.”

His excuses turn my vision red. How dare he act like he is the victim here. He had choices. He was free to come and go as he pleased. He could have packed up and left town if he didn’t want to do King’s dirty work. I was the prisoner locked in a cell at the mercy of soulless, vile men. I had no control. No choice. I had no way out until I made a way for myself.

He could have helped me. He chose to walk out of that cell every time and go back to his day to day life.

Leaving my blade inside him, I walk over to the table where more blades are laid out. There are different sized scalpels there, but I choose the largest before walking back over to the table.

A pungent smell hits me as soon as I step beside him, my eyes darting to his waist. His underwear are now see-through, darkened and wet, as he lays in a puddle of his own making.

Now this playroom smells like I was expecting. Blood and piss.

“Now, now Doc,” my sing-song voice sounding strangely deranged to my own ears as I pat his tear-soaked wrinkled cheeks. “That's not very becoming of you. Pissing yourself when I have barely started with you.”

His whole body shakes with sobs as I move down, trailing the scalpel over his skin like I did my dagger. “Please don’t do this,” he begs.

“I asked the same of you, Doc. But you granted me no such mercy.” Moving the scalpel on the inside of his hip, I dig it into his flesh, holding it still as I continue. “I cried and begged you to stop. I begged you to take me to the hospital. You ignored me, pretended you couldn’t hear my screams. You listened to him instead.”

“You have to understand. P-please. It was the only way to save both of you. K-king wouldn’t let me take you anywhere,” he pleads, but I’m done listening to his excuses. He had ample opportunity before that hellacious day to help me.

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