16: END GAME

I head into the clubhouse and down to the Dungeon. The Dungeon is at the bottom of the castle, which is our clubhouse. It’s soundproofed and damp and ranks with the musty odor of hundreds of killings.

I lied and told Nova that Anarchy called an emergency church meeting. I don’t want her worrying about what I’m up to, but I also don’t want her leaving her store by herself. She needs to wait until I arrive to escort her back to the compound like I’ve been doing. At least until we catch her stalker.

I know that we’re close, but I won’t be satisfied until I put a bullet in the guy’s head. I received a text just as I was heading to her from Anarchy telling me to come to the Dungeon. He said they had information about her stalker but not that they’d caught him.

The Dungeon is nothing more than a torture chamber where we retrieve information from our enemies. Our nemesis’ may enter many ways, walking, pushed, shoved, carried, or thrown into the Dungeon, but they never leave.

I pull the large, heavy metal door open and step inside. Most of the council is here: Anarchy, Phantom, Cannon, Raider, Terminator, and Dime. Aside from them, there’s Doc, Decker, Falcon, Mayhem, and Bullet.

A man is tied to a chair. His face is bruised, and his blonde hair is tousled. Blue eyes shoot lasers my way as I walk inside.

“Is this him?” I ask.

“No, but he’s involved,” Falcon says.

“He’s yours to do with as you please,” Anarchy says.

“What the fuck do you know about any of this?” I ask the man.

He doesn’t say a word.

“He’s not talking,” Mayhem says, stating the obvious.

“He’ll talk,” I grunt, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to sit on it backward.

Disgust rolls through me as he spits on the floor beside my feet. The loud thud of my chair hitting the floor rings out in the Dungeon as I jump up and smack the sneer from his face.

He laughs and shakes his head.

“He works for you, Falcon?”

“Yeah. This piece of shit is Anthony Carter,” Falcon grunts.

From the bruises on his face, the swelling of his right eye and the busted lip, I can tell Falcon already has done a number on him.

His chair tilts sideways as Falcon punches him in the side of the head, but I put my foot out to right it once again.

He turns his gaze to Falcon and says, “Fuck you!”

Clapping, Phantom says, “So, he does speak. I was just beginning to think he was deaf and dumb.”

“Dumb maybe, damn sure not deaf,” Anarchy says.

“You threw a Molotov cocktail through my friend’s window while she was still inside, you grimy bastard! The fact that you’re not already pushing up daisies is a miracle.”

He glares at me again and returns to the silent treatment.

“Waterboard?” Cannon suggests.

“Not yet,” I say. “Bench him.”

Mayhem, Dime, Cannon, and Bullet grab the man while I untie his restraints. They carry him to a bench with a board against his back and neck. He flails as he’s strapped into place with several leather straps.

“Move again muthafucka, and I’ll put a bullet through your eye,” I threaten, pulling my gun out.

His nostrils flare and he shouts, “Fuck you!”

“Too bad for you, I don’t swing that way.”

Cannon and Phantom light cigarettes while Terminator says, “I think you should burn him. That’s one way to get rid of him quickly.”

“What’s with you and burning people?” Anarchy asks.

Inhaling deeply, he says, “Ah, nothing like the smell of burning flesh.”

“Sick puppy,” Dime says, shaking his head.

Placing a board just above Anthony’s knees, I slowly lift his ankles. He’s sneering at me as I continue raising the board, lifting his ankles higher and higher.

Sweat pops out around his temples, and his eyes bulge with the strain of trying to push against the boards.

“Who did you do it for?”

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, refusing to answer me.

I continue applying pressure until I hear the satisfactory snap of his knees cracking. He shrieks in pain, baring his teeth as tears pour down his face.

“Poor bastard,” I hear Raider say behind me.

“Who is stalking her?” I repeat. “And why the fuck were you helping him to stalk my friend?”

“Don’t know your friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure you know her. Between the two of you, you’ve been breaking into her house, leaving stupid gifts, harassing her, you sick bastard! We know you weren’t the one doing it alone because you were out of town with Falcon for a seminar when one of the incidents happened. So, who the fuck is doing this to her?”

He snickers. “Oh, Nova. Yeah, he loved her.”

“Who?” I growl, hitting him on the knee.

A satisfying thrill course through me as I watch his mouth jerk open in pain, but no sound comes out.

“Just kill him already,” Terminator says boredly.

“From the places that she loves the best. A place where their hearts became one,” Anthony says.

“Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost, or William Blake, you’re not. Cut out the drama and answer his questions,” Phantom says, standing close to the man.

“Go back to your country,” Anthony spits.

Phantom looks at me, and I nod.

As he walks to a freezer in a corner and removes a large bucket of ice, I turn back to Anthony.

“One way or another, we’re going to find out who it is. Don’t know why the fuck you’re protecting him when you’re gonna die anyway.”

“You said it yourself,” he snivels as Phantom returns with a metal lock box full of ice. “You’re gonna kill me anyway.”

“We’re just gonna have fun until we do,” Mayhem says as Phantom sets the lock box on the board in front of Anthony.

“Hold the board,” he instructs me and Mayhem, who stand on opposite sides. We do as he instructs.

“What were you? Affirmative action for the MC?” Anthony sneers.

Phantom hits Anthony’s jaw with the back of his hand, rendering him unconscious. I watch as he places the man’s hands in the ice-filled metal box and locks them in place.

Impatience to find the answers grows within me as Phantom walks to the refrigerator and removes a pitcher of water. Pouring some into a large plastic bowl, he places the bowl in the microwave and heats it to boiling. All the while, he and Anarchy converse about Carmine Aiello and the sex trafficking ring he operates as if this were any normal day.

When the microwave beeps, Phantom removes the water and walks back to where we stand. Unlocking the box, he removes Anthony’s hands from the box just as the man comes to again. We watch in fascination as he pours the hot water over Anthony’s hands.

The man screams an eerie cry, snot drips from his nose, and tears pour from his eyes.

“Fuck you!” he screams.

“No, dude. You’re the one that’s fucked. I’m going to leave you lying here until you die. No one will come to check on you or feed you. You’ll lie here in your piss and shit until you cease to exist, you sorry piece of shit. You were a waste of semen. Your daddy should’ve shot your sorry ass into the toilet instead of your mother’s stinking cunt!” I shout.

“Now tell me who it is,” I grunt.

“No!” he screams as Phantom dips his hands back into the ice box.

I grab a tire iron off the wall and take it to his knees, causing him to howl long and loud as I ask, “Who. Was. It?”

Tears stream down his face, and sweat drips from his hair. Through his labored breathing, he manages to grunt, “Clark.”

“Did he just say he was Superman?” Mayhem snickers.

I glare at Mayhem over my shoulder and turn back to Anthony. “Clark, who?

“Flying high!” he chirps, laughing.

“Who is he?” I growl.

“My cousin. Said she enjoyed their long talks,” he pants between words.

I think back to the days when I used to hang out with her after hours and our long talks. Had she been entertaining this Clark dude when I was no longer around?

Unstrapping the leather restraints from his body, I snatch him up by the collar and slam him against the wall. His breath leaves his body as he makes a loud thud against the concrete wall.

“Please...kill me!”

“We have no intentions of killing you,” Phantom says, smirking. Leaning closer, Phantom turns Anthony’s face toward him and says, “When we finish torturing you, we’re going to just bury you alive.”

My nostrils flare, and spit flies from my mouth as I grit out, “Who the fuck is Clark?”

Laughing, blood spills from his mouth. “She pushed you away because she wanted him. Wanted my cousin because you weren’t man enough to—”

I punch him in his filthy mouth repeatedly until teeth and blood fly from the dark, foul cavern. When I release him, he crumples to the floor, unable to stand because of his shattered knees.

Kicking him in his knee, I growl, “Get the fuck up! Stand up like a man!”

“Clark Stewart. Her champagne bar attendant,” he chokes out.

Kicking him in the mouth until he’s choking on his blood doesn’t bring me any satisfaction. Kneeling beside him, I say, “I should put a bullet in your head, ending your misery. But why waste a bullet on a sorry sack of shit like you.”

I spit on him.

“His grave is dug. Go get your woman. We’ll get more answers before we bury him,” Phantom says.

I race to the exit, knowing I’ve only got minutes to get to Nova on the other side of town.

“I’m following you!” Raider says as we take the stairs three at a time.