Page 95 of Outlaws of Tulsa

She trembles as she rises, weak and ruined. I hug her to my chest, ignoring Genworth’s ranting. My mouth finds her ear.

“Your daddy hurt you?”

A sharp nod.

“Your daddy fuck you?”

A sob.

“You didn’t want that, did you?”

A shake of her head.

These words are just for us. Not my guys. Not Genworth. Not the dead ass motherfucker cooking in the fire. Just us.

“We can’t let him live, can we? Not after what he did to my girls. All of you.”

She sags against me. “W-We c-can’t.”

“Do you want to hurt him?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Dragon,” I bark out. “Bring me your knife.”

Dragon, eyes glittering with interest, hands over his blade. I put it in Hadley’s hand. Gripping her jaw that’s smeared with vomit and cum, I admire her face. Her brown eyes no longer stream with tears. No, they are bright with hate and violence.

“You’re so fucking blind,” Genworth bellows. “Can’t even see the big picture. You’ve lost your game, old man. You’re not on top of shit like you used to be. I am where I am because I figured out how to play this game. You’re nothing but a loser.”

“Keep fucking talking,” I warn.

Genworth sneers. “You have a rat in your ranks. One I easily discovered while you had your thumb up your ass.”

I tense and dart my eyes to Filter. His expression is unreadable. When Genworth glances at Dragon in a knowing way, I bristle. Not Dragon. Dragon simply smiles—dark, evil, taunting. He’s the villain you read about in all the books growing up. He’s a dragon, not a rat, though.

“While it’s been fun playing Clue,” I mutter, “I’m not in the mood for games. I’m in the mood for torture and pain. Make him suffer, baby girl.”

She pulls away, wobbling slightly, and then walks over to him. A hush falls over the room as she stands there, staring, like something right out of a horror movie with her knife in hand at her side.

“Hadley, sweetheart—” Genworth starts.

His words are cut off when she slices his cheek. He yelps and then starts moving his mouth a mile a minute, pleading for her mercy. Begging. Making every promise in the book.

“It was an accident,” he sobs when she slices along his throat, but not deep enough to nick a good vein. “You have to believe me. I was sad about your mother. You look just like her. Then—”

She stabs him right in the mouth, the small blade piercing his tongue. Blood sprays out, dirtying up my girl even more. With a shriek, she yanks the blade out, sending a hunk of his tongue flying.

Everyone remains still as we watch Hadley go fucking crazy. The knife is small enough that she probably won’t hit anything that’ll kill him—just everything that will hurt. I lose count after fifty stabs of the knife. Chest. Face. Shoulders. Neck. Stomach. Thighs. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick. Pride surges through me as she mutilates his cock through his slacks, punishing him for using it against her. He’s a bloody mess, groaning and begging for his daughter to stop. I think she’d keep going if she had the energy, but she stumbles over to the mattress and falls into a heap.

I walk over to Genworth, admiring her work. I know it hurts like a bitch.

“Take his balls,” I tell Dragon, tossing him my knife. “Make him fucking eat them.”

While Dragon takes evil delight in cutting off Genworth’s pants, I kneel down beside Hadley. I turn her body so she can watch what Dragon does to her father. Lying down, I curl up against her, pulling her to my chest so I can keep her safe and make her feel protected.

Dragon manages to grab hold of Genworth’s balls and saws right through the thin, sensitive flesh that holds them onto his body. Hadley gags again as Dragon starts shoving the bloody, hunk of hairy balls into Genworth’s mouth. He uses the butt of my knife to cram the shit down his throat. Before he can throw them back up, Payne is there, taping his mouth shut much like he did Putnam.

I watch as my men take turns fucking with Genworth. Stabbing. Kicking. Taunting. Torturing. As much as I’d love to make him suffer more at my own hand, I much prefer what my hand has chosen to do. It splays over Hadley’s bare stomach beneath the hoodie in a protective, possessive way.

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