“Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” He squeezed my flesh. “I’m ready to leave this chapter of our lives behind and start a new one. But first, I want to make him pay for the things he’s done to my family.”
“You will.”
He bent his head to mine, brushing his mouth along my lips.
“And then you’ll be free of him forever.”
I nodded, pressing my mouth firmly against his. Francis kissed me like I was his sun, moon, and stars. He had me locked up in his arms, demonstrating to me I was his everything in the moments before we would show the man who’d hurt us his rule was over.
When he released me, he smiled and reached up to stroke my cheek.
“It’s time.”
I nodded and turned to find the others had joined us. Drake moved over to Phoebe, flipping out a knife and grabbing a hold of her wrist. He made a single cut down the centre of her forearm. Blood flowed when he dropped her arm, dripping down to her hand and then into the container below. He did the same to the other side.
“Wake him up.”
West had a bucket of water and threw it at Stuart’s head. It had been ice cold and the shock of it jerked him awake.
“W-w-what’s going on?”
His eyes were wide as he tried to focus on us and his surroundings. It took him a minute, then his face paled when he realised he was hanging from a hook and the five of us were standing below him.
“Hello, Stuart,” Drake said with a sneer. “Nice of you to join us.”
“What the fuck is this?”
Prescott stepped forward, the butcher’s knife swinging between his fingers.
“This? Oh well, it’s our little surprise for you.”
“Surprise? A fucking surprise?”
He wriggled in his restraints, which only made him swing back and forth. I tried to suppress a smile. He looked utterly ridiculous trying to get out of the harness Francis had fashioned.
“You bastards. You mother fucking bastards.”
“Well, that’s not very nice,” West said. “What did we ever do to you?”
“What did you do? What did you fucking do? You killed my sons!”
West shrugged and smiled at him.
“You still harping on about that? Wow, you’re like a broken fucking record, aren’t you? Boo-fucking-hoo.” He took a step towards Stuart. “What about the lives you stole from us, huh? From her.” He pointed at me. “You took everything you could from her, but you couldn’t take us. No, you tried to destroy what we had, but you didn’t succeed. And now? Well, now you’re going to pay.”
The way Stuart seethed at West’s words had him swinging vigorously in his harness. The veins in his temples were popping and his face had gone puce. He was about to open his mouth when his head turned sharply, and he caught sight of Phoebe next to him.
“What did you do to her? What the fuck did you do to my wife?”
“She’s not dead… yet,” Francis said, stepping closer to Phoebe. “But you see here?” He pointed at the cuts Drake had made, the blood steadily flowing from her hands into the large container below her. “For every one of your crimes against us, we’ll make another cut. She’s going to bleed to death because of you.” He shrugged as he looked at Stuart. “But I don’t know why you care. Not like she was faithful to you.”
Stuart was so enraged by Francis’ words, the spittle from his mouth sprayed out with his shout.
“You worthless fucking piece of shit. Let her go!”
Drake tutted and took hold of Phoebe’s wrist. He dragged the knife down, making another slice next to the first one.
“We can’t do that.” He took her other wrist and slid the knife down it too. “You see these? Well, the first one is for when you kidnapped Scarlett. The second, for when you had her mother killed.” He indicated her arm. “This is for the beatings you gave her. And this? Well, this is for locking her in a cold, dark cell to nurse her wounds.” He cut Phoebe again. “You’re lucky she’s unconscious for this, not that she would stay awake for long. Too much blood loss.”
It was dripping down faster now. A red river flowed down her hands.
“This is for when you decided you were going to give her to that cunt Mason.” Drake looked up at Stuart. “She killed him, you know. Stabbed him to death. It was beautiful watching her butcher him after all the pain he’d caused.”
He sliced Phoebe’s other wrist.
“And this one? It’s for you trying to take her again.” He made another cut. “And again.”
Then he stepped back and stared up at the woman I’d been made to call mother for ten years.
“It’s such a pity you underestimated us, Stuart, but your worst mistake was underestimating the girl you stole from us.”
Stuart had been raging at Drake’s actions, but I’d been too busy watching my man explaining each cut he made. It was almost poetic when I thought about it. Phoebe wore his crimes on her wrists.
“Begin,” Drake said, waving at Stuart.
Prescott grinned as stepped up to Stuart and took a hold of his leg. The man tried to kick Prescott away, but West was there, holding onto his free leg, preventing him from doing so. Prescott cut down Stuart’s trouser leg, exposing the flesh. Then he used the butcher’s knife to flay the skin from his leg. Stuart’s scream made me flinch, but I kept watching as Prescott left the flesh attached but hanging off Stuart’s leg. Blood ran down it, dripping into the container below.
“That’s for taking her from us,” Prescott ground out before he spat on Stuart’s bloodied leg and stepped back.
West took the butcher’s knife from him and proceeded to flay another piece of skin from Stuart’s leg. He then gave it to Francis, who did the same, followed by Drake. Stuart was screaming and crying by the time they were done. I could see his bone. It was kind of gruesome, but I didn’t care. The fucker deserved it.
The boys repeated the same steps on his other leg. The blood was flowing heavier now from both Phoebe and Stuart. It was mesmerising.
West took his knife and dragged it down Stuart’s stomach, slicing through flesh to expose his guts. They fell out of the wound. I could see Stuart’s horrified expression. I smiled at it.
“I would feed you these, but I don’t really want to deal with the fucking smell,” West spat at Stuart before stepping back.
I watched Drake, Francis, and Prescott slice through the tendons in the exposed parts of Stuart’s forearms, not bound by Francis’s ropes. He was beginning to lose consciousness now with all the blood loss.
The three of them stepped back. West set a chair in front of Stuart and gestured to me. I walked over and took a hold of his knife. He helped me up onto the chair. Stuart hung there, half-conscious and blubbering incomprehensibly. I patted his cheek.
“There, there. It’s almost over now,” I crooned, my voice mocking. “We thought we’d leave you with one last little parting gift before we send you to hell.”