Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(8)

He chuckles. “Sharpen those claws, princess, and channel them in the right direction.”

I flip my blade over and over in my hand, keeping one eye on Saint and Galen as they talk to the dude with the beard. “I don’t need a pep talk. I know exactly where to channel my rage.”

Sounds of approaching footfalls end our conversation.

“Let’s go,” Saint says, walking past us toward the other end of the building.

“You hanging in there?” I ask Galen, falling back to walk alongside him. Truth is, the guy looks like shit. We have similar injuries, but his are more serious, and he was already nursing a few broken ribs before the explosion. Sweat plasters his flattened hair to his brow, and his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. He’s bent over as he walks, his shoulder supported in a sling, and he’s holding his upper torso with his free arm, as if he’s holding himself together.

“I’m okay. Took a couple pills back at the house, so the pain is easing up. I just want to get this over and done with so we can crash at the barn.”

“Amen to that.”

“How do you want to play this?” he asks, as we step through the single door, following the guys down a flight of stairs to the basement level.

“We inflict pain to get the answers we need, and then we gut the bitch.”

A muscle clenches in his jaw as he nods. “I’m down with that plan.”

The others are waiting at the bottom of the stairs in front of the closed door. “This is your show,” Saint says. “But if you aren’t up to it, just say the word.”

“We’re up for it,” I hiss, unfairly taking my pissy mood out on him. “And you can all quit with the babying.” I push past them with Caz’s deep chuckle following me as I yank the door open and enter the basement.

Lights are low down here, and the space is largely empty except for a few chairs, a long steel gurney, and a table that houses a myriad of weapons and instruments of torture. Another older guy, with a neater, shorter beard, wearing one of The Sainthood’s leather cuts, stands guard at the side of the room.

I stalk across the concrete floor, eyes blazing as I glare at the petite blonde strapped to the chair in the middle of the room. Taylor’s hands are tied behind her back around the chair, and her ankles are securely fastened to the legs of the chair. A trickle of blood seeps from a gash on her forehead, and there’s dried blood on a cut on her lip. Her long hair hangs in stringy, matted strands around her heart-shaped face as she tips her chin up to glare at me. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes burn with hatred as I approach.

Lifting my leg, I ram it into her stomach, pushing her to the floor with a loud thud.

Not gonna lie, that maneuver has me sweating bullets as pain rips across my torso, my body protesting the motion. But fury trumps pain, and I straddle her chest, locking my hands around her neck and squeezing. I don’t want to kill her, at least not yet, but I do want to set the tone for this meeting.

“Fucking…slut,” she rasps, her eyes burning a hole in my head as she glares at me.

I tighten my hands around her throat, digging my nails into her flesh and drawing blood. “You’re not in any position to throw shade,” I say, smiling as tears leak involuntarily from her eyes and a bluish tinge appears on her skin. A gargled sound erupts from her throat, and I remove my hands from her neck before I accidentally kill her. This bitch isn’t dying before we get to the truth.

Caz extends his arm, and I take his hand, letting him help me to my feet.

Saint grabs a fistful of Taylor’s hair, yanking her off the floor. She screams in pain as he uses her hair to pull her body, and the chair, into an upright position. When he lets go, long strands of her hair are wrapped around his fingers. He wipes his hands like they’re diseased, until all the hairs are gone, and I smirk.

Galen and I stand in front of her with the others at our back. “Here’s how it’s going to go.” I flip my knife repeatedly in my palm. “We’re going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer. If you refuse, I’ll cut you. If you continue disobeying, I’ll kill you.” I lean down into her face, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in my ribs. “Trust me, it won’t take much to push me there.”

She spits in my face, and I slap her hard a few times on each cheek, relishing the way her head whips back. I step aside, taking the tissue Theo offers me, using it to wipe her disgusting spittle from my face. “You’re already trying my patience, and that doesn’t bode well for you.”

“Like I give a crap, whore!”

I punch her square on the nose this time, and she roars as blood gushes from her nostrils.

“I’m guessing you give a crap about your little sister, so, unless you want her to join your other sister in the ground, I suggest you lose the attitude and get with the program.”

“Don’t you fucking touch her, you cunt!”

“That’s it,” Saint snaps, pushing past me. “I’ve had enough of her disrespect.”

He grabs her chin, forcing her head back at an awkward angle. “You talk to our girl like that one more time and I’ll cut your cunt into tiny pieces and feed it to you one piece at a time.”

“Come on, Taylor. I thought you were smarter than this,” Galen says, shaking his head in disgust.

Saint glares at her one final time before dropping her chin.