Page 77 of Our Blood, Our Pain

“Where are we?” Jez asks, and I ignore him.

“What are we doing here? People will miss us, you know? The cops have probably already been told,” Zac shouts as Lev literally drags him into the warehouse, while we follow behind.

“No they won’t. You have no family or friends apart from each other. The other two morons are in jail, so I doubt anyone will miss you. Especially your smell,” Lev says, sneering in disgust.

The warehouse is like I thought, one large open space, a few containers lay around randomly on the floor and a small office that’s empty is situated in the far left corner of the warehouse. As I scan the room, with a firm grip on Jez, I find what I’m looking for. Heavy metal chains hang from the ceiling at the other side of the warehouse, and I push Jez along in front of me.

“Ivan, give me a hand, hold his arms up for me.”

Ivan tugs on Jez’s arms, locking his complaining ass into position as I guide the chains over to his wrists and lock them into place until he is secure, dangling like a piece of meat from a hook.

“You can’t do this! I didn’t do anything!” Jez screams, and so the begging begins.

“What do you want me to do with this dickhead?” Lev asks.

“Secure him to that chair. I want him to watch,” I say as I remove my coat, and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. It’s freezing in here, but it doesn’t get to me. Hot blood of determination and anger courses through my body, heating me up enough for me to function.

“Secure him with what? I haven’t got anything,” Lev moans.

“I have. Here,” Ivan says as we both turn to see him open his large black case and remove a long piece of rope. What kind of Mary Poppins shit is this? Wait…is that a tattoo gun in his bag?

“What else you got in there?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

“Tattoo gun, knives, more rope, cable ties, clamps, pliers, scalpel,” he says but I cut him off by holding up my hand to stop him.

“Why?”

“He loves to play as much as I do, but he carries his stuff around, just in case an opportunity arises,” Lev says, chuckling. I remember when we were younger, Ivan had an unhealthy obsession with what the body could tolerate in terms of torture. It appears he has perfected his craft, because this is some crazy shit.

Ivan drags the random chair over to us, and Lev secures Zac with the rope.

“Let Jez go. Take me, but leave him out of it.”

“Why should I? You both hurt Kai, and you need to be punished,” I say.

“It was me! I stabbed the fucker. You’d do the same if one of yours betrayed you,” he shouts, the real Zac joining us, finally.

“How did he betray you, exactly?” I ask, while moving around Jez, inhaling his terrified pants, the stench of fear so strong I can taste it.

“He left! You don’t just leave. The fucker always thought he was special. But he was weak,” Zac says. I watch him for a moment, looking at his ugly face, thinking that was the last thing Kai saw before he got hurt. I’m gonna slice the fucker open.

“How old are you? Ten?” Ivan asks. He actually looks like he pities the idiots and their idea of betrayal. They’ve no idea.

“Who is Kai to you, anyway?” Jez says, and I move my focus back to him.

“I’m his uncle.”

“Jules?” Jez rasps.

“Yeah. You fucked with the wrong guy. You see, I believe in consequences, and because I’m a nice guy, I want to rid you of the guilt. Cleanse your soul, so to speak,” I say, and I move closer to Jez.

“You’re gonna kill us, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Yes, but not yet. We’ll take a while to get there first.”

Before he can respond, I form my hand into a fist and pull back my arm. My muscles coil, then release like a spring, smashing him in his face. The pain, like a sharp shock from contact with his stiff jaw, travels down my forearm. But it’ll be worth breaking every damn finger.

Zac yells out for me to stop, and Jez swings his face back to face me and grins. The fucker actually grins. In the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve learned you have three different kinds of reactions. One is begging and offering to do anything or to sell a family member to save their life. Two is remaining calm, accepting your fate, and not fighting it, then the third is like what Jez is displaying. Anger and annoyance, becoming a mouthy shit, thinking if they spout enough hatred to you, you’ll suddenly get feelings and let them go because they hurt your sensitive soul. I actually prefer those as it makes it more fun to break them down into nothing. Which I will, with my very own fists.

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