Page 42 of The Catalyst

The Bastards don’t punish people who break their rules. They kill them.

* * *

When we returnto the warehouse, Nigel lets me get out of the van, which surprises me. I’m still in a bit of a haze as I walk inside while Charlie and Oliver do a mixture of dragging and carrying Tanner Vaughn inside Warehouse Five. The prick yanks and tugs on his restraints as he screams for mercy.

At this point, I’m kind of numb, but I know I’ll be able to process all of this later. Right now, I just need to mentally prepare myself for witnessing Nigel, Oliver, and their friends commit murder.

I’m really worried about my moral compass right now. I won't be surprised if there is an undiagnosed mental illness since my dad was always giving me an array of tests, like he was trying to figure out why I was different. He always seemed stumped after those tests. Once he said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were on the road to psychopathy."

I lean against the wall as Oliver undoes the duct tape and Charlie restrains the pedophile with taxing effort. Ronan has to assist poor Charlie in keeping the man still while Oliver grabs a piece of rope dangling from a hook hanging from the ceiling. It looks very similar to the kind I’ve seen in butcher shops on TV.

Oliver binds Tanner’s hands with the rope, making sure it's extra tight, before forcing the bind over the hook so he’s hanging like a split pig.

Nigel walks up to Tanner, hesitating as he looks my way before ripping the duct tape right off Tanner’s mouth. I cringe from the symphony of skin being shredded by the sticky strip.

Tanner screams as his eyes snap around, crazed with fear.

“Please, please, miss!” he cries out, and my head snaps in his direction as all eyes fall on me. “Help me! They’re crazy. I didn’t do anything to my little girl. I love her. Please, believe me.”

For some unknown reason, they let him speak and don’t interrupt him at all. Instead, they stand back, watching my reaction closely.

I slowly stroll over to the dangling man, carefully observing his reactions and expressions as they change with the breeze. My eyes dart across his face.

I might consider him handsome if I was in my thirties. He doesn’t look how I imagined a pedophile would, but how do you pick a pedophile out of a lineup? If there is anything you’re taught growing up about predators, it’s that they are always the people you least expect and the people closest to you. Who is closer to a little girl than her father? I was close with mine, but one thing for certain is that my dad never would’ve done what this prick did.

Poor Ana Vaughn probably has paralyzing nightmares about her experience. I’m surprised her mother didn’t kill him for what he did, but then she would’ve violated the rules, and poor Ana would be an orphan. Who better to protect her from the world’s evils than her mother?

I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and silently breathe, watching his pleading, deceptive eyes. Then, I kick him straight between the legs so hard I feel a crunch where my foot lands.

Practically feeling the guys cringe around me, Tanner bellows in agony as he thrashes against his restraints.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I help you,” I hiss contemptuously. “Not even the Holy Spirit will help you. God doesn’t look kindly upon those who mess with children, and I’m pretty sure incest is a sin.” I turn on my heels and walk toward my prospective spot, but I stop short when Tanner’s voice booms.

“You fucking bitch! I’m going to destroy you.”

And the innocent mask drops. That’s how it usually goes with narcissists. Once they realize they aren’t going to manipulate their way out of a situation, they throw a grown-up-sized tantrum.

I’ve been called much worse than a bitch, so his words don’t bother me, but I’m also not the one who looks absolutely murderous.

At that moment, I notice the small table next to Tanner full of torture devices. My blood runs cold as Oliver grabs a knife off the table and presses it to Tanner’s throat, silencing him instantly. All color drains from Tanner’s face as his body stiffens.

The anger radiating off Oliver even has me shuddering and the look on his face is absolutely menacing.

“Don’t…you ever…threaten her…again. If you do, I’ll make this last all night. I will separate your flesh from your bones and show you what it's like to smell your skin burning. I will remove your eyelids, place you in front of a mirror, and force you to watch as I dissect your body to maximize your pain. I’ll make it last all night, Vaughn. Do I make myself clear?” he growls in his face.

The way the sound reverberates throughout the warehouse has the heat in my belly transforming into a full-blown fire. The flames lick up my spine and down my legs as I watch the town psychopath go absolutely feral in my honor.

I haven't gotten turned on since yesterday, which is a big deal, but that did it. I'm soaking through my panties and my jeans. My pussy is screaming for the beast to get over here and fuck me before he destroys Tanner Vaughn, but I think I'm the only one who hears it.

I know I’m a bit sick in the head to be turned on by this, but it’s my sex drive, and I own it. I like when Oliver gets all violent, especially when it has something to do with me. It’s his possessive and commanding energy that gets to me. My insides melt and purr in unison and all for the psycho that isn't the one who's bed I'm forced to occupy.

* * *

Tanner Vaughn is dead,or at least I think he is. The man hasn’t moved in ten minutes, just dangling from his restraints, red lines dripping from his flesh. The floor is drenched in blood below him, but most of it flows toward the drain in the floor ten feet away from him.

This was all Oliver’s doing. It was his rodeo. For some reason, he seemed to take this way more seriously than I expected. I can only assume that Ana Vaughn means something to him or possibly her mother, Bianca. Maybe they’re a part of his family?

Or… It’s because Tanner Vaughn threatened me. I saw the absolute rage that filled his normally dead eyes the moment the pedophile screamed in my direction. I don’t think I’ve ever seen murder written so clearly on someone’s face before.

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