Page 105 of Unspoken Truths

“What am I doing with this?” she asks.

“This may be one of my favorite rods,” Nacio says, moving to put his hand on her back so she knows he’s there.

Telegraphing his actions, he presses her forward.

“Push this button up, and then shove it into any area of their body you want. They’re going to be dying anyway, Rachelle,” he says. “Release some of the anger you feel when you think about Colton.”

“Doesn’t it make me a bad person to do this?” she asks.

“Not at all,” Dad grunts. “The shit they were told to do to you is going to haunt even me. My daughter adores you, which means I’m taking everything fucking personally. These men are owed nothing.”

“What were they told to do?” I ask, wishing I could have left her sleeping in the tent.

People are disgusting dickweeds.

“Kidnap her from the property and show her what rape actually looks like,” Mr. Emil growls.

Ignacio flinches at the words, while I want to take the rod from Rachelle for a little anger releasing myself.

“Lili,” Dad says, pulling my attention to him. He tosses me an electric rod, and I walk forward.

It’s clear they cleaned the ground before they allowed us in, because it’s damp with water and the scent of bleach instead of blood.

“Rachelle,” I say, pulling her attention. I can see she’s thinking too hard about this. “We’ll do it together, okay? These men are going to be an example to their boss that fucking with Emil Reyes’ daughter is a bad life choice.”

“Daughter,” one of the men whispers, the scent of urine causing me to step back as it soaks the front of his boxers. “There’s no fucking way. You never said…”

“Rachelle is my adopted daughter, and I don’t offer information to dead men,” Mr. Emil snarls. “On the count of three, show these men the error of their ways.Uno, dos….”

The ‘three’ is lost as Rachelle and I jab the electric rod against the soft flesh between the men’s legs and let the electricity run through their bodies. Since there’s wetness in the fabric of the man who pissed himself, it creates a better current for the rod. Ever helpful, my father tosses water on the ground where their bare feet are standing.

Since we’re outside of the wetness, it doesn’t affect us, and we continue finding new places to press the electric prod.

“Armpit,” Nacio murmurs under his breath.

Rachelle moves her hands so she can reach the tall man’s underarm, while I merely shift the rod. The men scream through the pain, the acrid smell of burning reaching my nose but not affecting me due to the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Emil calls out, and Rachelle huffs as Nacio tugs her away by the waist. “I’m not done, but there’s no reason to tire yourselves out, girls. I have plans for these men. Do you consider yourself to have a weak stomach?”

“Not really,” Rachelle murmurs. “My stomach issues are from anxiety or anger.”

I shake my head as my father collects the rods, curious about what they’re about to do next.

“Real men don’t have to force themselves on young girls or anyone else,” Dad says. “Those who do, don’t deserve their cocks to remain attached to them.”

Ignacio’s eyes are dark with anger as he pulls on a pair of gloves, and I swallow thickly. I don’t know what’s coming, but a part of me wonders how much he’s going to enjoy it. My former best friend has a darkness inside of himself that’s perfect for this type of work.

We haven’t spoken about our futures at all. Does he want to follow in his father’s footsteps?

My dad is already wearing gloves as he grabs a pair of cutting shears, and relieves the men of their boxers. Rachelle’s breath hitches as she sees the flaccid cocks between the captive men’s legs. They appear inflamed and red after our attack on their bodies that included their dicks, but they’re definitely still attached.

For now.

“You may want to step back a little more,” Mr. Emil murmurs. “I doubt the blood will go far, but I’d like to be careful.”

Ignacio picks up a sharp knife and a blow torch. Wondering what he’s going to use the blow torch for, I reach for Rachelle’s hand in case she needs it. Her fingers are twitching as she takes it, but that seems to be the only sign that this is affecting her. Instead of fear, I feel excitement, knowing that these men will no longer be around to hurt Rachelle.

“Safety glasses,” Dad reminds Ignacio, picking a pair of what reminds me of the ones we use in chemistry class. “I had achispitatry to take my eye out a few months ago, so I refuse to use an open flame without my glasses.”

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