Page 102 of Justyce
Draconis’s face turns red and the veins in his neck strain as he starts yelling around the gag.
Stepping closer, I raise an eyebrow at him before removing the gag. As soon as it’s out of his mouth he spits profanities at me. “You won’t get away with this, Justyce! I am the Mafia Boss of Tartarus, not you!”
I tut and shake my head. “You didn’t know? You’re dead. Well, not really, but that’s what everyone thinks. Guess who’s risen up to take the throne, me of course.”
“You little cunt! You can’t do this to me. I made you and I can fucking break you. That mask won’t protect you from my wrath!”
I turn to look at Kenzi and see the fury blaze like blue flames in her eyes.
“What do you think, Dark One. Can he take me out?”
She shakes her head no and steps up beside me. “No. He’s insignificant, weak, old and doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air we do.”
I nod, hoping she can see the love and adoration I have for her. “I concur.”
“Fuck you two! You think Avernus won’t look for me, or my own father? Don’t be naïve,” he booms, spitting saliva onto the face of my mask.
I lean in closer to him so we are mere centimeters apart. “Don’t kid yourself,dad.You taught me well. I’ve covered my bases. You died in that cell, burned to a crisp. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, there are two bodies. One is that fuckwit Dereke and the other body is your son. The bastard you tried to replace me with.”
His jaw falls slack and in allmy twenty-eightyears, I swear I’ve never seen pain etched into his hard edged face. A part of me, that small little boy locked in that cell all those years ago, hurts, his heart breaking some.
Locking that little boy in Pandora’s box at the back of my mind, I wrap my hand around Kenzi’s waist and draw her closer to me.
As if sensing I need her support, she places her hand on mine and squeezes. Looking to the door, I sing out, “Dr Ashby? You may enter.”
The doctor waltzes in and my father’s face blanches. Oh yes, he remembers him. Six months ago my father locked him up in here for refusing to sedate and slowly kill one of his slaves that cheated him.
In return, Dr. Miles Ashby took her place at the asylum. I’m not certain what happened to the slave, no doubt buried in a shallow grave somewhere.
What my father neglected to realize, and it’s his own straying mind’s fault, is I was able to break the doctor out after a couple months. I helped him detox and clean himself up from the addictive medication my father pumped him full of daily.
There’s an old saying that everything happens for a reason. Well, this is one of those stories.
When I was younger, Miles took me in and sheltered me after my father beat me within an inch of my life. It was one memory that’s stayed with me until this day. He’s always worked for my father, trying to sway the undeniable heavy totem pole that he demands, his depravity front and center.
The people that deserve to be here, the rapists, murderers, child traffickers and kiddy fiddlers, have definitely felt Miles’s wrath. The others have only been mildly sedated to appease my fucked up father.
Snapping myself from my inner rambunctious mind, I smirk, “You remember him, I see.”
“Fuck you.”
I chuckle, reach down to my boot and withdraw a knife. “Did you know Dereke was planning on killing you, as well? Apparently he was still harboring hatred toward you for slapping his mama around, for hurting her.”
“That slut deserved everything she got and more. She lived like a fucking queen, I supported them all!”
“Raping his mum was supporting them? Tying her up, whipping and fucking her then leaving her for her boys to find the next morning?” I scoff. “Of course, that’s how you operate. Blood money to keep her silent, to keep her coming back because she needed that next hit.”
Kenzi’s hand squeezes mine and I sense she feels some empathy for Dereke, but that cunt doesn’t deserve it.
I extend the knife to Kenzi and her eyes pop wide behind her mask. Then she takes it from me, her jaw set in determination.
I’m so proud of my girl. I don’t even need to prompt her. Instead, she steps froward and slashes across the decaying rose and skull tattoo, the same matching one that I have on my chest. Our Tartarus Mafia one.
Blood gushes to the surface and he keens out in agony. Kenzi doesn’t waste any time. She brings the blade down, slicing another line down the other side of his chest. A perfect X marks his flesh. It’s not enough to kill him, and not nearly enough for what he did to her, but it’ll do for the moment.
She steps back, wipes the bloody blade on Draconis’s pants and hands it back to me. I smile down at her, place a kiss to her lips, and pocket the blade.
My father is panting, the exertion overtaking his senses from minor blood loss and pain. Pulling my knife from the back of my pants, the ebony carved demon handle rests hotly in my hand. Azrail.
“You won’t be needing this.” I dig the blade into his skin and carve out the remainder of his flaying Tartarus tattoo. I smile as the bloody fatty flesh hits the white linoleum floor.
I watch as the sweat drips down the bridge of his nose and pools at the end, mingling with his tears. I am disgusted, sickened by him and ashamed his blood runs through my veins.
“Dr Ashby here is going to be looking after you from here on out.”
With that I give Dr Ashby a one-armed hug, grab Kenzi’s hand, and leave the asylum.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, this is a dish that will be basked in ice, unforgiving and everlasting, one that he’ll never escape.
