Page 18 of Seeking Peace

I turn to face Ember. "Go fix yourself a bath. I'll come to check on you later."

Ember lets out an exhausted sigh, and I can tell she's beginning to feel the after-effects of tonight's event. "A bubble bath does sound nice."

My lips are pressed against her forehead before I think about my actions. Fuck. Why do I lose my damn senses whenever I'm near her?Get your shit together, Blake.She's fine. Nothing happened tonight. But something could have happened, and the weight of that thought alone is crushing me. I pull back and lock eyes with the woman I want but am convinced I do not deserve. Ember stares back at me with her doe eyes, lips parted ever so slightly. "Go," I say, swallowing the urge to kiss her.

Raine's eyes dart between Ember and me before she tugs Ember's arm. "Go get that bath started, and I'll whip you up one of my famous fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Now you're speaking my language." Ember smiles at Raine. With a final look my way, she walks away, and I head in the opposite direction, back outside.

The shed, which is a barn, is located on the back of the property. When I get there, I notice the van backed up to the barn doors and Gabriel dragging a bound man from inside. I walk inside to find all my brothers are present, along with two extra family members: Nikolai and Demetri, who’ve been out of town handling shit back in Russia.

Jake makes his presence known. "String these cocksuckers up."

Our guests are alert and fighting against my brothers’ hold as they’re led over to a chain with two large hooks, which hangs from a beam between two rafters. Gabriel cuts the box tape from one man's wrists to bind his hands in front of him again, using some thin metal cable. He then tosses the roll of cable to Logan, who repeats the process on the other man. Gabriel and Logan slip their bound wrists over the hooks, then Reid and Quinn work together, pulling the chain through the pulley wheel and hoisting the bastards off the ground, one back against the other’s. The metal cords immediately begin tearing at the men's flesh under the weight of their bodies, causing one of them to growl in pain.

Jake rips their black ski masks off, revealing both men's faces, and the second one spits in Jake's face. Though warm outside, the air around us turns ice-cold, and Jake's lips thin with displeasure. Gabriel steps up, unsheathing a knife from his boot, and passes it to Jake. Logan walks over with rusty pliers and pries the fucker's mouth open. He thrusts the pliers into the man's mouth, clamping down on the piece of shit's meaty tongue. The guy struggles, biting into his tongue as Logan assists him in keeping it stuck outside his mouth. We all watch as our Prez reaches out and drags the blade across the motherfucker's tongue, cutting off the tip. He bellows as a torrent of blood flows from his mouth. "Shut the bastard up," Jake growls.

Reid comes over with a bandana and stuffs it into the injured man's mouth. Tears stream down the unlucky fool's face, and snot drips from his nose. Soon after, he passes out, his head flopping forward.

"Fuckin' weak-ass pussy," Quinn grumbles.

"You have no idea who the fuck you're messing with," the currently uninjured man warns.

"Well then, by all means, enlighten us as to whom we have the pleasure of entertaining." Jake steps in front of the man who spoke.

The ugly fuck sneers. "You'll find out soon enough, once word gets back to my club.”

Club? So, these assholes are part of an MC?

"I saw no colors on your backs. That tells me you have no club, and the words spillin' from your mouth are lies,'' Jake says, his tone flat and unimpressed by the man's attempt to intimidate.

"I don't have to prove shit to you," the guy spews.

"You not only stole from my club once, but you've done it twice now. Whether word gets back to your club or not, you won't be breathin' to hear about it. However, I might be persuaded to quicken your deaths if given a little information." Jake begins circling the men. "What's the name of this club you speak of?"

"Fuck you. I'm no snitch," the man says.

"I admire your loyalty." Jake reaches into his cut, producing a cigar and lighting it. He looks over at Demetri, who’s enjoying the show. "Appreciate the gift, brother. Welcome home." He takes a toke.

Demetri grins. "This is one hell of a reception, my friend."

Jake returns his attention to our guests. "You and your club stole a shit ton of money from us. More importantly, you endangered the lives of a couple of our women." Jake looks at me and jerks his head. "And I think that needs repentance, which my brother here is very eager to help you with."

I stroll over, glance at the table full of various devices we use to exact pain, and contemplate which tool I'd like to use first. I pick up a dirty blade, the handle of the knife wrapped in layers of silver duct tape. Once in front of the man running his mouth, I cut open his black shirt, exposing his hairy, heavily-tattooed chest. I look into his eyes while dragging the blade against his skin, making my first cut. He grits his teeth, stifling his scream. I make another cut, making my mark on him into an upside-down V before turning my back on him and replacing the knife in my hand with a pair of pliers. I grip his bleeding flesh at the peak of the V-shaped slash and pull down, peeling layers of skin from his body.

"Son of a bitch!" he screams and thrashes, which makes the wire around his wrists dig in a little deeper.

"Got something to tell us?" Jake asks.

The man groans, his body quivering from the pain. "Fuck. You." He emphasizes each word.

Jake looks at me again, and I walk over to the torture table, drop the pliers, and pick up a sledgehammer.

"I've got to give it to ya. You're tougher than your friend here." Jake stands before the guy who lost part of his tongue, holds his eyelid open, and puts his cigar against the fucker's eye. The blood-soaked bandana in his mouth muffles his scream.

Without delay, I swing the head of the sledgehammer down on the hanging man's kneecap, then repeat the process on his left just as fast. I begin thinking about what could have happened to Ember if we hadn’t gotten there when we did. The thought of any man touching her fills me with a towering rage I've never felt before. Needing to release the anger, I drop the hammer to the ground and use the motherfucker as a human punching bag. I land one blow after another, burying my fist into his cut and scraping my knuckles against his teeth as I pummel his face. I keep going until I've spent all the energy inside my body. My fisted hands fall to my sides, and I take a few steps back. Sweat trickles down my face. I stare at the bloody body swaying before me, his face broken and contorted from the beating I just delivered. It's been a long time since I've done this much damage to someone. I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't feel good.

Gurgling noises start coming from the cocksucker, and Doc steps forward, inspecting the guy. He pries the man's eyes open. "Most likely brain damage." He looks back at Jake. "He's a goner. No good to us now." With a nod from Jake, Doc draws his gun, presses the end of the barrel against the man's temple, and pulls the trigger, ending his life permanently.

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