Page 53 of Karma
“How would you be?” Ky asks. “Lucas still feels guilty, Colt can’t fix it, and the two youngest kids don’t understand why they can’t see their mommy.”
Venom snorts. “And he’s fucking pissed at you, so it’s probably good you’re not around right now. You should’ve called him.”
Grimacing, Undertaker sighs. “I kind of… missed my pocket when I took off after Luke called me. Ran it over. I saw the car and couldn’t lose it. Not if we wanted to find her and get her back alive.”
“Barely alive,” Venom says, his voice dripping with anger, and Undertaker knows it comes from a place of guilt. He missed Lex’s call, and he may never forgive himself for it. “I can’t wait to figure out what this motherfucker had planned. I plan to do the same to him with a few embellishments.”
“Sick fuck got a hard-on beating his sister. I’m not sure you want to match everything he was going to do.”
He shrugs. “I’m not above much when it comes to torturing an asshole like him.”
Ky laughs, but Undertaker sees Venom is dead serious. He stops laughing and stares. “Wait, for real?”
“It’s not to get off,” he says. “But if his goal was to rape someone, he should get to experience the pain himself. Besides, it’s not like my cock is the only thing we can shove up his ass.”
“I don’t think I could get hard to do it,” Ky says and yanks the chain and lock looped through the shop door handles. “Anyone bring bolt cutters?”
“You’d be surprised how you react with enough conviction.” He just shrugs with the incredulous look he gets. “And no. Unless we got some in the truck, I don’t have any cutters.”
Shaking their heads, they look around for something to break in with. Undertaker toys with it a bit and turns to Zane. “You know if anyone owns this place?”
“Not that I know of. The people who bought it from us died about ten years ago. I almost bought it.”
“Then again, the house is fucking gone, so I don’t know if anyone would really care if I”—yanking hard, he breaks the handles off, and the chain and padlock fall with it to the ground— “break this.”
Zane helps him open the doors, and they step inside. The smell of death slaps them in the face, and Zane dry heaves. “And I thought talking about this asshole getting excited when it came to our sister was enough to make me sick. Jesus, this is… Wow.”
“Involuntary,” Venom says, completely unaffected by the smell the others. “He gets off on causing pain. I doubt it happened until he beat her to a bloody pulp.”
“Your dad didn’t seem to recognize this place from the pictures,” Ky says. “Or he just didn’t say anything.”
To Undertaker’s surprise, Zane clenches his fists at his sides as he looks around at the pictures of Lex. More have been added since Nina was here, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck his deal is.”
“Coming from the first brother who tried to kill Lex, that’s rich,” Venom snaps.
“I deserve that,” he says and examines the pictures. “How long as he been stalking her? This picture’s old. She’s… fuck, this one’s when she’s like eight or nine. What the actual fuck?”
“Don’t look at this wall then,” Undertaker says.
Turning, Zane’s eyes widen. “That’s a lot of my face on a wall. I guess Lex isn’t all that special. There’s a picture of me from about five or six there.”
Shrines. The few times Undertaker has seen anything similar to this has been in enemy territory when he’s infiltrated the headquarters. There’s always a wall covered with targets.
“He really was killing people who looked like the two of you,” Ky says. “We knew Lex, but it was kind of a guess about you. Considering you and he look so much like VP, it was a toss-up who he pictured when he killed them.”
Zane’s captivated by the pictures of himself. “This one’s from my time as a Prospect. How long was he planning all of this?”
“Years,” Undertaker says. “But there’s no guarantee he’s the one who took all of these pictures. He could have come across them and stolen them.”
“Motherfucker,” Venom mumbles.
He looks through the items on shelves, worktable, and crates stacked on the floor. To hear him mutter that with the disbelief in his tone makes Undertaker’s hair stand on end. “What?”
He slips on his gloves before picking up a glass container. “He really knew how to make them suffer.”
“What is it?”
“Sulfuric acid.”
