32. Colt

32

COLT

I stand in the doorway of our makeshift prison, watching Tommy and Jake struggle against their bonds. The dim light catches their faces, illuminating the fear that replaces their usual arrogance.

“Ready?” Nash’s voice comes from behind me.

Flora stands between us, her chin high, eyes fixed on her former tormentors.

The lockup smells of metal and dust. With Ty’s blessing, we’ve prepared this space carefully, although I didn’t exactly detail what I had planned for it.

I flex my fingers, remembering every detail Flora shared about their abuse. The rage burns hot in my chest, but I keep it controlled. This isn’t about losing control—it’s about justice.

Nash has laid out our tools on a small table. Everything is neat and organized. That’s his way. He is always methodical, even in vengeance.

Flora steps forward first, her strength showing in every movement. She’s not their victim anymore. She’s become something they should fear.

Tommy tries to speak through his gag, but I shake my head. “You lost your right to words long ago.”

Jake’s eyes dart between the three of us, finally understanding the gravity of their situation. This lockup has seen its share of justice served, but tonight feels different. It feels special.

I catch Nash’s eye, and we share a silent moment of understanding. These men hurt our girl, and now they’ll learn the true meaning of the consequences of their actions.

Flora’s hands tremble as she pulls on the latex gloves we’ve offered her. She has every right to vengeance. Nash and I intend to give her that power. We stand in solidarity, ready to follow her lead.

“How do you want to start?” I ask. I want to lay into these bastards, but this moment belongs to Flora.

Her gaze flicks to me, and she bites her lip. “I have something in mind.”

Nash nods, his eyes never leaving Flora’s face. “Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen.”

She takes a deep breath, and her hands stop trembling as her resolve strengthens. “They hurt me. They thought it was fun to use me like an object.” Her eyes harden. “But I’m not an object. I’m a fucking person, and they took away my power.”

I step forward, drawing closer to the men who dared to touch her. “This is where you take that power back. We’ll make them sorry they ever laid a finger on you.”

Her chin lifts, and her eyes glint with determination. “I want to shove the handle of those hammers into their asses. Show them the kind of pain they inflicted on me.”

My jaw clenches, but I nod, respecting her choice. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” I hand her the hammer, and Nash passes her the lube. “Make them feel it.”

She doesn’t hesitate; she’s thought about this moment. I understand that need. As Nash grabs Tommy down first, he starts to squeal as he’s positioned on all fours. She presses the handle against Tommy’s anus, and I see the memories flashing in her eyes. Her body shakes, but she doesn’t back down. Her fingers wrap tighter around the hammer’s grip, and she pushes.

Tommy screams, the sound muffled by his gag. Flora’s gaze never leaves his face as she works the handle inside him, centimeter by centimeter. She has the satisfaction of watching him squirm, his eyes widening with shock and pain.

“That’s it, angel,” I murmur. “Take your time.”

Flora’s breath comes in shallow pants, and her eyes burn with a fierce light. The hammer slides deeper, eliciting more desperate noises from Tommy. When she finally stops, his body is trembling, and the fear in his eyes matches what Flora must have felt.

“Your turn, Jake,” she says. “Let’s see how much you can take.”

They sob, begging for mercy behind the gags, but Flora isn’t done. She’s prepared to mete out the same treatment they gave her, and even this is only a fraction of what she felt. Nash and I stand sentinel, ready to support her to carry out her vengeance. We each have our ghosts, and Flora is facing her head-on.

I reach out, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

Her eyes find mine, shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she mouths.

I step back, giving her space to finish what she started.

My chest is tight with a mix of emotions while I watch her. This woman, this beautiful, fierce angel, has endured so much, and now she’s taking back her power. The rage inside me burns at the sight of her abusers. These men thought their actions had no consequences. They were somehow entitled to their evil depravity simply because they wanted it.

Her eyes shine with a wild light as she stares down at the men, sobbing at her feet. Jake and Tommy, the monsters who thought they could play their sick games without paying a price. The hammer still in her hand, she leans down, her face close to theirs, and begins to speak.

“You pieces of shit,” she snarls, each word dripping with contempt. “Did you think you could get away with what you did to me? Did you think I’d stay quiet forever?”

Their eyes widen in fear as they hear her voice, strong and steady despite the tears streaking her cheeks. She’s claimed her power, and she’s not giving it back.

“You used me, hurt me, and thought it was funny. Well, how does it feel now, huh?” She digs the hammer’s handle deeper into Jake, ignoring his whimpers. “Do you like it? Do you like being the ones on the receiving end?”

The man’s eyes dart back and forth, desperate, pleading. But Flora doesn’t show them mercy. They never gave her any, and she’s not about to start a kindness campaign now. Her words slash at them, sharp and biting.

“Sluts,” she growls, spitting the word like an insult. “Whores. You thought I was yours to play with, but look at you now. Pathetic, begging for mercy. You don’t deserve it.”

Their eyes plead with me, but I offer no comfort. Flora continues her verbal assault.

“No one’s going to save you now,” she whispers, her lips curved in a cruel smile. “You’re mine, just like I was yours. And I plan to make you suffer, just like you made me suffer.”

Their struggle intensifies, their eyes wild. Flora has become more than our angel; she’s become the avenging angel who sets her demons free. Seeing her like this fuels the fire in my veins. She’ll never again be a victim; the proof is her standing tall, holding their fate in her hands.

“Look at these hard dicks,” she says, contempt in her voice. “Even now, you’re getting off on this. You sick fucks.”

Her words strike at the heart of their weakness, and they squirm, unable to deny the truth. I hold their gaze, letting them see the steel in my eyes. No pity. No escape.

“You’re right, Flora,” I murmur. “They’re getting off on this.”

With that, I reach down and grab their dicks, pumping them hard, rough, as Flora watches, her eyes gleaming with dark desire.

“That’s it, sluts,” she breathes. “Get off on your own pain for a change. But remember, it’s us who control this now. We hold the power.”

And as their hips buck against my hands, their eyes pleading, I know that we’ve finally given Flora what she needs—a chance to rewrite her story and become the author of theirs.