It’s a long, tortured moment before Grady and Jeremy turn their attention back to what they were focused on before.
The master bedroom is large and opens up to an equally impressive en suite bathroom that can be closed off by a set of pocket doors. The decor is definitely high end, but that’s not where my attention is. There’s a light smattering of blood on the floors and walls, mostly pooled at the feet of Larry and Joanne Jennings, who are each tied to a side chair with their backs to me, facing the large, sunken garden tub that overlooks a large window. Duke stands beside Larry with a gun in his hand and a scowl on his face. Ian is crouched in front of Larry, a knife in his hand and a sadistic smile on his face. I take a few steps forward into the room, passing Grady and Jeremy. Ian and Duke stop what they’re doing and look at me. The vicious smile that once graced Ian’s face falls to a horrified grimace.
“Melinda, help me!” Larry screams from his seat, but Duke silences him by wrapping his hand around Larry’s neck.
“Get her out of here. Now.” Ian’s words are pained. He looks so distraught over my presence that I almost wish I didn’t come.
“I know what he did,” I say to Ian, ignoring Larry’s cries for help. Joanne stares at me in horror as tears fall from her eyes. She’s acting like she doesn’t know what she and her husband have done to deserve this from Forsaken, but she knows. I’ve overheard Joanne Jennings often enough to know she’s complicit in how her son was raised.
“You need to leave,” Ian says. Larry jerks in his chair, kicking Ian in the shins and earning a firm slap from Ian. I step closer, the smell of gasoline gets stronger, and it’s only now that I see the crumpled, unconscious body of Darren Jennings in the bath tub. “These memories don’t go away, babe. I won’t be able to fix this part of you.”
“No, but maybe I can fix this for myself.” The tears I cried in the car have dried on my cheeks, leaving my skin irritated and red. I wonder what it says about me that I’m not scared of what I see. Two people bound to chairs, one in the bath tub covered in gasoline. Another man tied to a chair at the clubhouse. All deserve their fates. All need to pay for their sins. I don’t have an ounce of pity to spare for a single one of them. “I hate what he did.”
My eyes leave Ian and lock on Larry’s fearful face.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Jennings? Are you scared?” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. I can barely believe it’s me saying the words. It’s like I’m watching a movie with characters I can’t connect with. The men ready to kill their enemies, the woman desperate to just somehow make everything a little bit better for herself. Who are these people? Who am I? Mentally, I think I’m breaking. It’s not the same as before, with the panic and sickness and fear. It’s different now. I’m disconnecting from my humanity, and even though I know it should scare me, it doesn’t.
“What’s wrong with you, Melinda? What have they done to you?” Larry asks with disgust in his voice.
Joanne snarls from her chair, tucking her chin into her neck and twisting her face up. Tears fall from her cheeks, and for some reason, her pain comforts me.
“Who, Larry?” I ask. My voice is breathy, exasperated. I fight to keep control of my burgeoning emotions. I’m feeling everything, every single ounce of pain, every drop of fear—all of it—and it ignites something inside of me, encouraging me to take it a step further. “Forsaken? Or the men you had rape me?”
His face pales like the pathetic fucking coward he is.
“Does that make you uncomfortable? Knowing you had the wrong woman raped?”
“Babe, stop,” Ian warns. He comes to stand in front of me, almost completely blocking my view of Larry, who starts screaming about something or other. His voice is muffled almost immediately by Duke’s fist smashing into his jaw. “I’m taking care of it. You don’t have to talk to him. Don’t torture yourself.”
“Don’t you see? This helps me. You told me once I might benefit from therapy,” I say. A soft, amused laugh escapes me.
“I didn’t really mean torture porn,” he says, fighting off his own smile.
A thrill shoots through me. I place my hands on his chest and lean in, kissing his throat.
“Does this make your dick hard?” I’m whispering, trying to keep this between us. I don’t care if Larry or Joanne hear us. They won’t be around much longer anyway. It’s Ryan who won’t ever let us live this down. “Because I’m getting wet at the idea of your blade spilling their blood.”
He groans and presses his hard cock into my belly. My face heats and I lick my lips.
“Christ,” Ryan says and voluntarily slams his head into a nearby wall. “Quit dry-humping your bitch and get to killing these assholes already. I’m bored!”
“That word,” Ian barks out loudly at Ryan. His chest heaves in anger, but there’s an excitement in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.