Page 24 of Desecrated Reign

14

ROHAN

I ease Saoirse through the creaky galvanised doors with my palm resting against her back. Greeted by darkness, I reach for the light switch that’s attached to the bare concrete wall, wires still exposed to the naked eye. It takes a few seconds, but suddenly the overhead lights flicker with a click before illuminating the warehouse with a blinding white glow that forces me to squint.

In the centre of the room, Donnacha is still bollocks naked, flopped forward, chin resting against his chest while his arms are tied behind his back and his feet cable-tied to the legs of the chair.

Flicking my gaze towards Saoirse, I survey the look on her face. Her eyebrows are furrowed, causing little creases between her wide, rounded eyes. Then with her lips pursed, she studies the sight before her as her head cocks to the side, angled slightly left, contemplating her next move. I don’t push her, letting her go at her own pace as she slowly eases away from me and wanders around the open space.

The warehouse is built with half-concrete walls that stop at around six feet high, and then green galvanised sheeting continues from the bricks, spanning to the twenty-foot-high ceilings. With every step Saoirse takes, the click of her heels echoes around us, creating an eerie soundtrack as she glides her fingers along the workbench and over the array of tools laid out. Even though she remains silent in her perusal, her thoughts are so loud I can almost hear her wondering which tools we used to create the black and blue pattern decorating Donnacha’s bare skin.

Stepping further into the space, I slide my hand into my pocket and pull out my cigarette case, opting for the pre-rolled joint nestled between the smokes. Slipping the roach between my lips, I light up, easing the tension across my shoulder blades with one toke.

Finally, Saoirse strides across the floor, heading to Donnacha’s limp, dozed frame. Teasing her fingers into his hair, she pulls a disgusted face as the sticky dried blood coats her fingertips. Then tugging slightly, she cranes his head back, and Donnacha grumbles, barely lucid. “What exactly did you give him?”

“Lorcan injected him with an intramuscular sedative. They only last two-to-four hours, but it was enough to keep him from going anywhere while we were gone.” Striding across the room, I lower myself to my hunkers in front of Donnacha. “Wakey wakey, cuntface. I’ve a surprise visitor for you.” Head lolling to the side, Donnacha groans out an inaudible response. “Maybe you need a little help, buddy.”

Placing my joint between my lips, I place both palms on my thighs and push to a stand. After making my way towards the garden hose secured to the wall, with a flick of my wrist, I turn the water on at the mains, then grip the nozzle and unravel the tubular hose from the bracket.

“Come here, love. Wouldn’t want that dress to get wet, at least not yet.” I wink, making her blush the perfect shade of pink.

Once Saoirse is safe from the spray, I clamp down on the release, unleashing a torrent of freezing-cold water. The icy droplets dance through the air before finding their mark, drenching Donnacha in seconds. Water seeps into his unconsciousness, coaxing him back to the realm of the living.Sputtering through his gasps for air, his awakening echoing off the tin, heightened by the high ceilings, and resounding like a symphony of fear.

With sadistic pleasure, I enjoy every second he struggles against the restraints, the water hose still pointed at him, soaking his naked skin and amplifying his terror. As his body convulses, his eyes dart around the room, seeking solitude from the bitter cold spray. Hopelessness paints a picture on his face, a masterpiece of anguish that brings me nothing but satisfaction.

Next to me, Saoirse watches with twisted delight etched at the corners of her lips. In a voice laced with malice, she taunts him. “Welcome back, sweetheart. Long time no see.”

Releasing the trigger, I drop the hose onto the concrete floor, then move towards Donnacha, circling him. My footfalls resound around us, and I revel in the visceral fear that emanates from him as he struggles against the ties bounding him to the chair.

My lips curl into a smile as Donnacha’s teeth clatter against each other, water clinging to his skin as his body trembles. “Are you a little cold, D?”

Joint still in my free hand, I take one more toke, then extinguish it on the side of his face. “Maybe that will warm your blood.”The chair rattles beneath him as his body bows forward, his grumbled moans greeting the material of his gag with a muffled cry.

Quickly checking in with Saoirse, I lift my gaze to hers, searching for any sign of resistance. Her eyes find mine, and I mouth, “You okay?”

She nods yes with a slight tip of her chin, standing straighter by stretching her spine. I see the moment she turns it all off, her eyes go dark, as if she’s pushed every molecule of remorse to the back of her mind. Her nostrils flare as she works through her innocence to find the anger and pain that Donnacha has caused her. Her eyes close briefly, and she tips her chin to her chest. Then, sucking in a deep breath, I watch her lungs expand as she breathes past her morals, allowing karmic justice to flood her veins when she realises she will be the hand that delivers it. Finally, she lifts those intoxicating amber orbs, latching them onto mine with a wicked grin, letting me know she’s with me, no matter how far down the dark path I go.

Shooting her a wink, I cross the warehouse to the bucket of water Lorcan left in the corner. Then, reaching inside, I pull out a length of rope soaked and weighed down by cruelty. Next, I close in, and Donnacha’s chest heaves as I taunt him with every slow step. With a swift motion, I lash out, rope slicing through the air before striking Donnacha across his chest with a resounding crack.

His muffled screams pierce the warehouse, infiltrating my eardrums. Repeating the motion, I raise the rope again, lashing it across his face. The force of the impact sends the chair crashing to the floor, and a cry of agony clenches his eyes shut.

Stepping over him, I peer down at his scorched skin. “You see, Donnacha, pain is my language, and I am fluent. I’ve fucking mastered its artistry. And just like I’m going to do to our worthless cunt of a father, I will break you down, piece by piece, until there is nothing left for you but your gutless pleas for death.” I grip the chair by the backrest and tug it back to its rightful position, then lower to my hunkers in front of him, bringing my eyes to his. “But you know what? Unfortunately, I won’t be the last face you see when you’re begging for one more breath—that honour will go to my beautiful fiancée.” Peering over my shoulder, I flash Saoirse a devious grin. “Come here, love.”

Saoirse steps forward, placing her hand on my shoulder as she holds Donnacha’s gaze with a raised brow. “Oh, look… nowhere to run, Donnacha.”

Reaching forward, Saoirse rips the cloth from his mouth, but he says nothing, his dark, icy gaze penetrating hers with a deathly stare. “You see”—she walks around my crouched frame, drawing across my shoulder blades with the tip of her fingernail—“Rohan was just the beginning, sweetheart. The prelude to your ultimate demise. Me, on the other hand…” She pauses her steps, turning to capture his gaze again. “I’m here to finish what he started.”

Donnacha rears his head back and spits back. “Fuck you, Saoirse.”

“You’ve already tried. Twice. Both times you were unsuccessful. And from what my fiancé has told me”—her eyes flick to his swollen, bruised dick before slowly perusing towards his face—“you’re no longer up for the challenge.”

Gritting his teeth, he growls his reply, “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

Saoirse leans in, bringing her face inches from his. “You never had the chance. Every single attempt you made remained just that—an attempt. Wanna know why?” She tips her head to the side. “Because I am stronger than you will ever be.”Stepping back, she rises to her full height, looking down on Donnacha from beneath her lashes. Next, she reaches for her thigh strap, revealing her gun with one swift motion. Fingers wrapped around the butt, she fixes her posture and points the barrel between Donnacha’s eyes. “Let me show you how to succeed, Donnacha.”

“You’re not going to shoot me. You are nothing but a little girl waving her fiancé’s gun.”

Saoirse’s chest rises with her unbothered chuckle, and then she lowers her gun, shoving the barrel into Donnacha’s mouth to shut him up. “Sweetheart, I’m not that girl anymore. Rohan gave me a gun, but my daddy taught me how to use it.”

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