50. Max

One week later

W ith my legs up on the expensive dining room table made from that rich ass, shiny Ebony wood, I cross my ankles and wait. The handle of the fish skinning knife gripped between my fingers as I carve their names into the wood in front of me. Huffing out a breath, I blow against the shavings that have accumulated around the first and last name of each of the men that defiled my body.

I've been patiently waiting for this asshole to wake up, the other two—Sam Jones and Michael Willis—sit perched up against the entrance to the dining hall. I allowed Draven to let off some steam with them. Seems he had a lot of pent-up anger leftover from the previous two weeks. I hear his footsteps come up behind me and he takes the seat to my right. Placing a kiss to my temple.

"How much did you give him, Petit Mouton ?" His soft chuckle makes me roll my lips to stop from laughing.

"Enough," I shrug. "He should be waking up any minute now."

The soft groaning from beside me is like music to my ears. Dropping my head back slightly, I turn to the side and watch as Adam starts waking up. His eyes slowly begin to flicker with understanding of the situation. A slow grin mars my face and I hear the chair creak as Draven stands, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He knows I've got this and the fact he's allowing me to get all of this out, makes me have so much more respect for him. He might be a man of few words, but the words he does have are all saved for me.

"Wha—What the fuck is this?" Adam grunts, the moment his eyes meet mine. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Thanks for joining us on this special occasion." I smile broadly, placing the knife on the table.

"Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on, or who you are but whatever you want… take it."

You have got to be kidding me right now.

"You don't know what's going on?" I ask, realization dawning on me in the moment.

"No," he spits, wriggling against the ropes that are tied to his wrists and feet. "I don't know what's going on so will someone fucking tell me!!"

I can't control it. The hysterical onslaught of laughter that howls from my chest makes my throat burn. It's even worse when I look at Draven, and he's standing there like he wants to turn this man into my own personal Pez Dispenser. I turn my attention back to Adam who has been tied perfectly to one of the dining chairs completely naked.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't remember me really, considering I was blonde when it happened."

I stand, I wait… there it is.

His eyes begin to widen, his breathing becomes ragged, and I tilt my head slightly as I watch the incursion of memories hit him all at once.

"There we go…" I bend at the waist, smiling in his face as panic settles in. "Took you a moment princess but we got there."

Princess, the same term they used for me.

"Max… w-wait a second look I—"

When his head snaps to the side, I let out a huff. Draven's fist is what propels the chair over, causing it to hit the floor with a crash. His hands wrap around the arm of the chair, pulling it back up to the correct seated position.

"You don't say her name, do you understand me?" Draven grips Adam's now broken nose and I roll my lips between my teeth. Watching how protective he is over me, constantly makes me wet but right now, in this situation… it's not helping me.

Stepping back, Draven retires to the chair to the left of me and I stand straighter. "Sorry about that, he gets a little frustrated sometimes. He's working on the anger issues though."

"Max," he growls, and I wink in his direction.

Clapping my hands together once, I smile again. "Ok, so as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me. Now that you're aware of who I am, we can begin." I point to the door. "Also, just so you know they're not coming back."

The moment Adam cranes his neck to the door, looking over what Draven subjected his friends to, he pisses himself.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" he shouts as he shakes and wiggles in an attempt to get free from the thick restraints.

"That's not going to help I—"

"SOMEONE!!!" he screams again. "HELP!!"

Grabbing the knife from the side I step forward and bring it to his throat. "Shut, the fuck UP!" Baring my teeth, I grind the words. "I remember screaming, I remember crying, begging, pleading for you all to let me go." I press it to the underside of his chin, and he edges his head back. "But none of you cared, so neither will I."

"Okay, okay," he whimpers.

"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll take your tongue and I'll make this so fucking slow."

"Okay, I'm… Fuck okay, okay!" He's flustered, trying to form a coherent sentence but failing.

Taking a step back to him, I walk over to the stereo and turn on the song they played over and over again as they brutalized me. The sound of Bodies by Drowning Pool plays through the speakers at a reasonable level and the shivers instantly run over my body. Bile rising in my throat and my brain screaming to run.

But I fight it, I push it down. I drag the memories forward and I promise them everything will be ok.

"Tell me Adam, do you know what a Gigli Saw is?" He shakes his head. "Good, that means I get to teach you something today." Turning around, I open the wooden box on the table and lift the steel wire from inside. Holding one of the handles, I let the other hang lose.

"This is a Gigli Saw. It's made with a high-grade surgical steel and is mainly used for amputations." Walking toward him, I crouch down at his knees, careful not to kneel or step in the puddle by his feet.

"Please I—"

"Nope." I shake my head. "I'm talking." I bring the other side of the wire under his thigh and look from side to side, making sure its straight. Just because I'm planning to murder this man, doesn't mean I want it messy. Taking hold of the other handle, I stand up.

"This will cut through skin and bone like butter and considering you won't be getting out of this alive…" I pause, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" His screams fill the room as I begin seesawing the wire up and down on either side, blood pooling at my feet as the skin tears and the connective tissue is sliced through so perfectly I hold my breath.

The moment I reach the bone, I've already drowned out the noise filling the room. I keep going. Up and down, up and down.

I've never felt so free.

The moment his leg falls to the floor I drop the wire next to it and kick his leg out the way. Performing the whistle that Draven taught me, I hear the padding of Shade's large paws on the floor as he makes his way into the dining hall.

His head low and his hackles raised, ready to attack. Stopping beside me, he nuzzles his snout into my hand, and I smile down at him. "All yours boy." Immediately, he widens his jaws, taking the severed leg into his mouth and walking to the door.

Tears and snot are falling from Adams mouth and nose and honestly, it's fucking disgusting.

"Please," he begs. "I'm s-sorry."

"Sorry?" I bark out a laugh. "Oh, are we sorry now?" I wrap my hand around the skinning knife on the table and perch myself between his legs.

Blood and piss be damned.

Sliding the knife to his chest, I begin slicing through his skin, pushing my fingers into the gaping lacerations, and curling my fingers and the knife inside. Effectively skinning him alive as I go. Again, he begins to struggle and scream in the chair, making it harder for me to get a clean cut.

Flaying human skin isn't as easy as you would think and considering I have medical training, that doesn't make it any easier. Throwing odd pieces of skin to the floor, the only sound registering to me is the sound of the skin flapping and slapping to the wood flooring as I go. Blood pools from where the skin is removed, covering his upper torso in claret.

"You weren't sorry when you took my chance to have children away from me!"

Slice, tear, throw.

"You weren't sorry when you broke my pelvis and twelve other bones in my body!"

Slice, tear, throw.

I stop, standing back and looking at my work, leaning down, I grab the one-liter bottle of drain cleaner from beside him, twist and pop open the cap and grin from ear to ear.

"And you weren't sorry when you drugged me and left me to die." I shrug, emptying the contents of it over his chest. His screams become similar to a pig being killed at a farm and I'm getting more and more turned on at the thought of how painful this will be for him.

Turning to look at Draven, I see the look of pride on his face.

Dropping the knife, it clatters to the floor, and I watch Adam. His face has lost all color, his eyes bloodshot and he just looks… Pathetic. Pulling Draven's Bowie knife from the holder attached to my thigh I know what's coming and I've never felt more excited. I'm here, getting my revenge as the only man I will ever love watches.

"I'm bored now, so," I shrug, leaning forward and gripping his hair tightly in my grasp. "I don't care about your last words. So fuck you Adam." I wink.

Raising my arm, I slice through the air, stabbing him in the left side of his neck and orbiting myself to the right, slicing and carving through his throat, then through the tendons, muscle and finally reaching the larynx. I carve and carve and yet the fucker's neck still hangs on by the spinal cord.

I scream in anger, stepping back and smashing my foot against his head as it dangles over the back of the chair. My hands and arms completely covered in blood.

"FUCK!" I scream out. Draven takes me by the shoulders and gently pulls me back.

"Allow me, Mon Cherie ." Stepping forward, I watch as he takes both hands, placing them on Adam's head and in one swift and aggressive movement, he lifts and twists. Effectively severing the head from the spinal cord.

I back up to the table and watch him pace toward me. Slamming the head down beside me with a grin on his face that I've never seen .

"Fuck me," I laugh. "Fuck me right now!" Grabbing my shoulders he spins me round on the spot, bending me over the table directly in front of Adam's head, yanking my trousers down. Pushing his fingers between my folds he groans deeply, leaning his entire body onto my back.

Bringing his mouth to my ear he growls. "So fucking proud of you Max, such a good girl." When Draven praises me, it ignites something inside me I can't deal with. He fumbles with his trousers, pressing the head of his cock against me and pushing in without pause, all the way to the base and I cry out.

Draven begins slamming himself in and out of me, the glorious feeling of my hip bones biting against the edge of the table does nothing but add to the pleasure of how rough he is with me. But he doesn't find me weak.

The man who will forever own what is left of my cold, dead heart.