They'd bruised his face. Scratched it. His wrists and feet were bound by crude cables.
Growling, Serial stepped away from my sister. He walked behind Brass and pushed him out of the other men's arms. He hit the cement floor hard, making an oomph sound barely louder than the rattle of his bones.
“Get up, asshole!” Serial kicked him in the ribs. “Don't think you're gonna make this shit any easier playing possum, you fucking rat. I told the wrecking crew out there not to beat you senseless. They took it light. I know you're fucking awake. Look up! Look at me, before I make your girls bleed.”
Brass grunted, leaned down, and spat a long, sticky trail of blood. My fingers went numb. I rocked in my chair, wanting so bad to look away from all this. But ignoring the grisly sight in front of me was even worse than seeing dead on.
He turned, forcing himself up when the trickle was done running out his mouth. If he saw me at his side, or Jackie at the other, he showed no sign of it.
Brass just turned, looking past my sister, right at the trio against the wall. I realized then his mouth was gagged with a thick handkerchief stuck between his teeth and bound around his head.
“I'm gonna take this shit off so you can talk,” Serial said, leaning down and almost pressing his evil lips to Brass' ear. “But first, I'm gonna show you I'm not fucking around here. I'm gonna give you a little preview of what happens when your bitch ass fails to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
The thug snorted. “You think you hurt me after I went after your slut? Huh? Getting the jump on me and cracking my jaw?” Serial shook his head. “Well, I'm gonna hurt you a hundred times worse before I even lay a fucking finger on you.”
He stood, heading for Jackie again. I realized what was about to happen before he even raised his arm.
“No! Don't fucking do this!” I rocked in the chair as hard as I could, shaking until it almost broke.
Is this what it feels like when someone's losing their mind? I wondered.
The answer was right in front of me, vicious and blood red: if he put a single scratch on Jackie's innocent skin and woke her up, I'd never be whole again. Every cut, every scratch, every wound on her was a thousand times worse than anything he could do to my own skin.
I couldn't hear myself think. My brain slipped away as he lingered over my sister, taking his sweet time, wiggling his fingers in that fucked up Freddy Krueger thing on his hand.
There was another sound. A harsher, angrier, masculine growl, deep as thunder and just as dangerous.
I realized it was Brass rumbling through his gag. His whole body shook like he had a current running through him. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but it looked like he was gazing through Serial and Jackie, straight to the other men against the wall, grinding his throat like a motorcycle engine running on pure hate, betrayal, sadness.
“Come on, Serial. Get on with it,” Blackjack said from his post against the wall. “You're a fucking coward, you know.”
Serial stopped. The freak turned his barbed wire tattooed face toward the wall as his superior stepped forward, his gray hair bobbing on his shoulders.
“What did you say to me, old man?” he snorted. “You think you got some big fat balls in your flabby sac just because you pissed in the Prez's face? You're not strong. You're not brave. You're the only fuckhead stupid enough to vote with this rat, and I can't fucking wait 'til Fang lets me take Enforcer and puts your weak ass out to pasture.”
Blackjack stepped into the light, and Brass' head followed every move he made. I couldn't see my lover's eyes, but I knew they'd be horrible, like watching a curse starting to wreck havoc.
“I said you're a coward, Serial. You'd rather torture his women instead of face the fist that pounded you in the face. A real man only enjoys spilling blood when he's evenly matched and when it's damned well justified. This shit here...” Blackjack shook his head.
Brass let out another roar through his gag. I could see his hands twitching, tied behind his back, slowly ripping at the cord. His fingers were bloody, but it really looked like he might get it off.
No. This is stupid. You can't get your hopes up.
Brace for the worst, girl. Brace for hell.
I turned my brain off and watched Serial stare at the old man with pure venom. In a blink, he swirled, stepping to Jackie and jerking her head up by the hair. The big razor-toothed dagger attached to the glove was poised right across her throat.
My eyes wouldn't work anymore. Everything was fading, turning white, like a heavy fog was descending over the room. Of course, I knew it was all in my head, my brain blotting out something it couldn't comprehend and remain sane.
“A coward?” Serial snorted again. “That's the best piss you can come up with, old fart? Would a coward do this?”