Hooked: A Dark, Contemporary Romance (Never After #1)(43)

My heart beats a slow and steady rhythm inside my chest, having learned how to control its tempo long ago, back when my uncle used to tell me how much it pleased him to feel it quicken under his hands.

Something is off.

It’s too quiet. My foot slips on something hard, and I pause, glancing down as I lift the sole of my shoe.

A glint of color catches my eye.

I suck in a breath, my heart faltering from its steady pace.

Crouching down, I brush away the debris of fallen twigs and crispy leaves, revealing a blinding sparkle of red.

Rubies, to be exact.

My stomach churns.

No.

Straightening, I reach behind me to grab my gun, my stomach tense as I grip Ru’s custom lighter in my hands. I move closer to the edge of the cave, and then I come to a crashing halt.

The thunk of my pistol as it hits the ground is barely audible through the heavy whooshing in my ears.

Because right in front of me is Ru. Bound to a tree, nails protruding from his hands and feet, his middle split open from the inside out.

Ice runs through my veins, shocking my nervous system until it buzzes like a staticky TV. I move forward with caution, my feet like lead, wanting to run the opposite way—to rewind time so I can undo this mistake.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I swallow around the thick knot in my throat, my chin lifting as I take in the extent of damage done to his person.

His eyes are open and bloodshot—the same eyes that showed me kindness when I was a young boy only used to seeing hate.

His mouth hangs lax—the same mouth that taught me to never give up. To never give in. The one that told me I was like a son.

My chest twists so violently I retch, my body folding in half as I rest my hands on my knees, trying to control the heaving.

Slowly, I straighten, my gaze moving to the ripped apart flesh of his hands—the same hands that taught me how to wield a knife, how to shoot a gun. The ones that saved me years of torment from an evil even I can’t comprehend.

My stomach heaves again, and I glance away, nostrils flaring as I try and shove down the tidal wave of memories threatening to come to the surface. But it’s too late, the surge of grief rises up and hits me like a hurricane, my mind not able to connect the mangled corpse in front of me with the man who taught me everything I know.

The man who defended me against my nightmares.

I walk closer still, my feet stumbling over the ground, hands shaky as I reach the tree. My shoe slips in a puddle, the liquid splashing onto the hem of my pants. I freeze, staring down at the pool of blood; the life force of the only man on this earth who cared enough to take me in. The burn in my middle flares, scratching up my throat and pouring from my eyes. Tears track down my face and drip off my chin, the gaping hole in my chest cracking and shaking until my insides feel like they’ll rip in half from the quake.

Bile burns the back of my throat from the smell of his insides, but I ignore the stench, my fingers reaching up and gripping the nail embedded into his left hand. It’s slippery, caked with blood that’s starting to dry, and as I tense my arm and pull, the sick pop of metal releasing from flesh is enough to make even the strongest of stomachs churn.

I stare at the nail in my palm, feeling as though it’s being hammered through me, until something dark and heavy breaks through the cracks, slithering up my middle and wrapping around my neck like a noose.

And as I force myself to finish his other limbs, his body slumping down the tree and dropping on the ground, I realize that even the most fractured of hearts have further to break.

Because mine was just decimated to ash.

They didn’t just kill him.

They gutted him and strung him up for the animals to feed.

But I’m worse than any of the wild that lives in these woods, and I’ll hunt down everyone involved like prey, bathing in their blood and dancing to their screams until they repent for their sins.

My teeth grind so hard my jaw pops, my vision going blurry as a deep ache settles heavy in my chest.

I could have prevented this.

But I was with…

Wendy.

My head looks to the sky, my mind shattering into a million pieces as I wonder if somehow she was in on this plan. If she knew that by distracting me, her father could sneak in and once again take away the only thing that matters.

His little shadow.

Words from George the baker flow through my head, only this time, I see it from a different angle. My head is clear, no longer clouded with the lust of a woman who has the same DNA as the man responsible for so much of my pain.

“It was a woman. Said there was a new boss in town.”

Shock rushes through me like an electrical current, clashing with the simmer of my rage until they combust into an explosion of heat, wrath singeing through my veins and bursting from my pores.

Acid teases the back of my throat.

I had assumed it was Tina, Peter’s assistant. But Wendy was there that day. She was there. I blow out a deep breath.

My gloved hand runs over my mouth, the leather rough against my dry lips. “They won’t get away with it.” My voice catches. “I will make them suffer for every moment of pain you endured.”

My thumb brushes over the inscription on the lighter, still held tightly in my palm.

Straight on ‘til morning.

With a deep breath, I flick it open, the clink of the lid and spark of the flame the only sound, other than the silent screams clawing at my soul.