knowing that was the truth, and his death wouldn’t be without Cain landing the final blow. He took another drink from the bottle of liquor while he stared at the man he was about to end, and then set the bottle on the floor.
“You’re right. I better end this now before this fucker passes out again and can’t feel how I make the last seconds of his life even more painful.” Cain went over to the workbench again, stared at the rusty equipment, and then grabbed a nine-inch serrated hunting knife. He walked over to the man, who was struggling to breathe now. He grabbed Carl’s chin, turned his swollen and beaten face up so he was forced to look at Cain, and bared his teeth.
“If you would have died nine years ago when I had your skull slamming against the cement, your death would have been far quicker. But for the last nine years while I was locked away all I could picture was all the ways I was going to take your life.” Cain took the blade and ran it along each side of this asshole’s face. The skin opened up instantly, and as sick as it was, Cain felt this thrill move through him at the sight. “You made my daughter afraid for a long fucking time, and although she is strong and living her life, your fucking existence still haunts her.” He wanted to roar out what he had done to Violet, but looking into the man’s eyes, seeing the life draining him, told him Carl wasn’t hearing much anyway.
Besides, Cain knew the vengeance he took. Violet had told him about the rape in confidence. Cain stabbed the man in the gut. “Your death won’t make her feel any better, because she won’t know what happened. I can’t tell her what I did, but she will know that her fear doesn’t need to control her anymore.”
He wouldn’t tell Fallina, but he’d tell Violet, because he knew she needed this, needed to have that closure. She may act like she was strong and living her life, and although a part of her was, there had to be a part that still thought about this man. Cain moved the blade up, felt the smoothness of that knife slicing into his flesh, and tightened his hold on the blade’s handle. “I could have let you live your life with the shame of what you did to my daughter, and probably other young girls.” He closed his eyes for a second and thought of his sweet Violet. “But killing you will sate this sadistic monster inside of me that has been itching to take you out.” He continued to move the blade up slowly. Carl gurgled, struggled fruitlessly. Cain bared his teeth, and twisted the blade one last time as the life faded from this motherfucker’s eyes.
Silence filled the room as Carl gave one last gasp for air. This release came from Cain within, this relief that he had finally done what he’d said he would do. He took a step back, and glanced down at the knife he held. The knife he held dripped the red, viscous fluid onto the ground. He lifted his gaze, stared at each of them, and then set the knife down. The bottle of whiskey still sat on the ground, and he picked it up and drank the alcohol until nothing was left. When he stared at Carl again, lifeless, he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and let it hang by his side.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with the body?” Not that he fucking cared if Carl rotted on the floor, but he couldn’t implicate the club.
“We have twenty acres on this property. I’m sure we can find some place for him,” Malice said in a deep voice, but Cain didn’t look at the man. All he could do was look at Carl, watch the blood that was slowly dripping from the orifices on his face.
“And no one will come looking for him?” Kink asked, and moved toward Carl and his motherfucking lifeless body.
“No, this piece of shit was living in a crack house about two hours from here, high with a needle still in his fucking arm, and a whore draped over him sucking his dick.”
Kink offered Cain a cigarette, and he took the smoke.
“Besides, I did my research on him
Eleanor Coerr, Ronald Himler