Page 71 of Justice

"Wonder if you'll be able to balance without these," he muses, almost conversationally. Then with a grunt of effort, he squeezes the handles together.

The toe comes off with a crunch and a spurt of blood. Evans gurgles, his foot jerking reflexively.

Zach moves on to the next toe, and the next, until the foot is nothing but a mangled stump, the bones of the metatarsalsgleaming in the harsh light. He repeats the process on the other foot, meticulously snipping off each toe.

Evans's breaths come in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving with the effort. His face is ashen, skin clammy with shock. He seems to be drifting, his gaze unfocused, slipping toward the beckoning void of oblivion.

But Konrad is there, jabbing another needle into his neck, pumping him full of stimulants to yank him back from the brink. Evans's eyes snap open, a low keening wail bubbling up from his ruined throat as the awareness of his agony comes crashing back.

I step forward again, a blowtorch in one hand and a pair of metal shears in the other. I light the torch, the blue flame dancing and flickering.

"You took something precious from Elle," I say, my voice low and cold. "Something she can never get back. So now, I'm going to take something from you."

I nod to Butcher and Zach. They grab Evans's legs, spreading them wide and holding them down. Evans thrashes weakly, a gurgling moan of terror rising from his throat as he realizes what's coming.

I position the shears at the base of Evans's flaccid penis. Even through the haze of agony, the primal fear shines bright in his eyes. I smile, a cruel twist of my lips.

"No more using this as a weapon," I snarl. Then with a vicious squeeze, I close the shears, severing his penis in one brutal snip.

Evans's howl is more of a breathless wheeze, his body convulsing against the restraints. Blood spurts from the ragged stump, splattering hot and sticky across my gloved hands.

I bring the blowtorch close, the searing heat cauterizing the gushing wound. The stench of burnt flesh permeates the air.Evans's body goes rigid, his back arching off the table as a silent scream tears from his throat.

I toss the severed appendage aside with a look of pure disgust. It hits the floor with a wet slap, a pitiful, shriveled thing.

"That's for every woman you've ever violated, you sick bastard," I spit, my voice shaking with rage.

Evans is barely conscious now, eyes rolled back. His breath comes in shallow, hitching gasps, his body quivering and twitching in the aftermath of unimaginable agony.

I grip his face, hard. “Tell me, did you kill all of those young girls too?”

Evans's eyes roll back into focus, meeting mine with a glassy, feverish stare. His lips tremble, a thin line of bloody drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. For a long moment, he just stares, his gaze unfocused, as if struggling to comprehend the question through the haze of pain.

Then, slowly, a twisted, maniacal grin splits his face. A gurgling chuckle bubbles up from his throat, morphing into a full-blown, unhinged cackle. The sound is chilling, devoid of any humanity or remorse.

"Y-yes…" he rasps, his voice a barely audible whisper. "I killed them. All of them. Just like I would have killed Elle, given the chance. Their screams… their blood… it was exquisite."

A collective intake of breath echoes throughout the room, the confession hanging heavy in the air. Rage, cold and visceral, coils in my gut, my vision bleeding red at the edges.

"You sick fuck," I snarl, my grip on his face tightening, fingers digging into his flesh. "You're a fucking monster. I have one more thing for you.”

In the back of the room is the brazen bull and Reid already has the fire started to start heating it up.

“Anyone else?” I ask my brothers, stepping back to let them have their pound of flesh.

The other men step forward, each eager to have their turn at inflicting suffering on the monster before them. Lane grabs a pair of pliers, his eyes cold as he leans over Evans's face.

"You took pleasure in your victims’ screams," Lane growls. "Let's see how much you enjoy the sound of your own."

With ruthless precision, he grasps Evans's tongue with the pliers and yanks, stretching the muscle taut. Evans gurgles, eyes bulging as Lane twists viciously, the wet snap of the tongue being ripped out echoing through the room. Blood gushes from Evans's mouth as he chokes and sputters.

Next, Mason approaches with a sledgehammer, his expression grim. He positions it over Evans's right knee.

"You'll never be able to chase down another innocent girl," Mason snarls, then brings the hammer down with brutal force. Bone shatters with a sickening crunch and Evans jerks, a strangled cry tearing from his bleeding mouth. Mason moves to the other knee, repeating the process, pulverizing the joint.

Everyone else steps up and tortures him, even my sister Tiffany, Shaylin, and Tiana.

I stare down at Evans's broken, mutilated form, and I feel a strange emptiness. The rage that has burned in my gut for months is just… gone.

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