“Strip him down,” Clint ordered. “And keep the smelling salts on hand, we don’t want him passing out.”

Cochise and Angelo began removing the man’s clothes, not too gently.

“I’m going to leave you boys to your creative task,” Cruz told Clint and Anthony. “I’ll have a couple of my boys keep an eye on the warehouse, just in case there’s unexpected activity.” He glanced absently at the other men and dragged a slow hand over his mouth. “I should get home. We’re helping papá with the funeral arrangements.”

“How is your father doing?” Anthony asked with concern.

“He’s holding up, but losing Diego and Marissa hit him hard.” Cruz’s eyes misted. “Hit us all hard.”

“And the baby?” Anthony murmured.

A small smile formed on Cruz’s face. “Thriving. Healthy.” He looked at their guest and the smile faded, his face hardening. “You know, these sick motherfuckers buy and sell babies, too?” His eyes filled with tears that magnified the fury within. “Babies. I mean, how Goddamn fucking twisted in the fucking head does someone have to be to…” He looked away from the hanging man and cleared his throat. “Kill that piece of shit motherfucker real slow.”

Clint clapped his hand on Cruz’s shoulder and nodded. “It will be our pleasure.” He squeezed with affection. “Remember, twelve kids were saved tonight because of you and your men. If you hadn’t found out about these fuckers…those kids would’ve been sold tomorrow, and no one would’ve seen them again.”

Cruz nodded and glanced at the guest again. “Real fucking slow.”

“We have a new toy,” Clint murmured. “But I guarantee, he won’t be having any fun with it.”

“Good.”

Sanchez entered and walked over to the men. “The boys gathered up the phones off the men at the warehouse,” he told Clint. “They’re in a box outside the room here.”

“Thanks,” Clint said.

Anthony frowned. “Why do you need their phones?”

“One of those fuckers was the contact for the buyers,” he said. “When they get in, they’ll be calling to confirm the time and place to meet up. That call will come in on one of those phones. If they don’t know their faces, chances are they won’t know their voices, either.”

“There could be a hell of a lot of them,” Anthony said. “I can’t imagine they would take chances or walk into a potential sale haphazardly. You men be damn careful.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Clint assured. “Because we’re not the ones going after them.”

“What?” Cruz exchanged an uncertain look with Sanchez. “The ones we took out were a small operation compared to these buyers. What do you mean we’re not going after them?”

“I’ll explain later,” Clint said. “Right now, we have a different fish to fry.” He chuffed. “Or skewer.”

“All right,” Cruz murmured with uncertainty. “I’ll trust you on this.”

Clint nodded. “You do that.” He squeezed his shoulder and rejoined Cochise and Angelo.

When Cruz and Sanchez left the guestroom, Anthony came over and looked the naked captive up and down. The man was in excruciating pain, yet remained conscious and aware. That’s how Clint wanted him.

“Should we cut off his cock and cauterize it, too?” Angelo circled the guest, eyes deadly. “Or just burn the fucking thing off him?”

The hanging man writhed on the chain like a hooked fish, whimpering and gagging on his own spit.

Clint rubbed his chin and stared at the guest thoughtfully. “It’s chilly in here,” he spoke low. “A nice warm fire might feel good.”

“No…no…” the man choked. “Don’t…”

Taking a step closer, Clint arched his brow. “What did I say about begging? You want to lose your tongue along with your dick?” It was all inconsequential as the fucker was going to die an ugly death anyway. But in Clint’s experience, he’d discovered that even those who knew their fate was locked in, would nevertheless try to avoid the loss of as few extremities as possible before they were killed.

The guest ceased begging and went back to whimpering unintelligibly. All Clint heard were the cries of innocent children…and these sick fucks ignoring them.

Angelo brought over a small tin can filled with a flammable liquid. “You reap what you sew, motherfucker,” he said coldly and splashed the fluid on the man’s genitals.

“No…no!” the guest screamed as Cochise fired up the hand torch again. “Oh Fuck—no! Don’t! Oh God—please help me!”

The Egyptian’s face twitched, his gray eyes narrowed to slits. “Children are precious in the sight of God,” he growled. “He isn’t going to help you.” Cochise moved the torch closer and the hairs on the man’s leg curled and melted beneath the extreme heat. “He’s going to burn you in hell…after we’re through with you.”

Clint, Angelo, and Anthony took a few steps back as the Egyptian lit up his drenched crotch.

They watched with emotionless expressions as the man jerked and convulsed, their ears deaf to his screams.

“No one fucking hunts our babies,” Clint whispered, then looked at Cochise. “Don’t let him die. We’re not done yet.”

Cochise nodded silently, retrieved a bucket of water, waited a few more moments then doused the man’s charred crotch.

“He might die from shock,” Anthony inferred.

Clint stared at the twitching man, his full weight hanging on his right arm as his head drooped forward. “He’ll live. For now.” He looked at the older man. “Get the device ready. As soon as he’s coherent again, he’s going to suffer the same fucking hell those kids were forced to endure.”

 

•♦•

 

Axel sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot cider as he gazed into the living room where the four boys huddled on the sofa beneath warm blankets and watched a cartoon Christmas program. Donald had gone home, and Axel missed his company. Sitting alone with his thoughts, he kept replaying the incident at the park and all the frightening ‘what ifs’ that went along with such thoughts.

What if he and Cory hadn’t gotten word about the predator?

What if the kids hadn’t gotten away?

What if they’d lost them all to an existence of hell on earth?

What if…

He didn’t realize tears had welled up until he blinked, and a few ran down his face. Axel wiped them away and cleared his throat. He left the table and walked over to the counter and just stood unmoving, eyes distant and blank as the horror that had nearly struck them continued to chill his blood. He could almost feel the devil hovering over his shoulder, his cold breath wafting against the back of Axel’s neck, a gnarled, clawed finger slowly tapping his shoulder as he whispered, ‘Next time…I’ll get them.’

Axel gripped the edge of the counter and ducked his head, his throat constricting as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to swallow his sobs. He thought maybe he’d been in shock before because the reality of it all was just now sinking in. Shaky, controlled breaths shuddered off his lips as he battled the panic that was suddenly trying to consume him.

We almost lost them.

His head hung lower and body trembled with quiet sobs. The boys had been in his care. How could he have faced Abel and Devlin…Nolan…Adrian, Angelo, Anthony, Cory, Cochise…Clint? The loss of those four boys would have destroyed them all. And me.

Fuck. Axel’s fingers ached as he clutched the counter harder, his sobs strengthening. Get a grip. Get a fucking grip.

“Axel…?” Noah was suddenly behind him, having approached as quiet as a mouse.

Axel flinched and swallowed hard. He sniffed and quickly wiped his damp face. “Yeah?” he rasped without looking at the boy.

“Why…why’re you crying?” Tears instantly thickened Noah’s soft voice.

He shook his head, his breath catching in his throat.

“Because of what happened at the park?”

Axel nodded. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t bear to lose you boys.”

“You didn’t lose us,” Noah whispered.

He came closer and Axel turned, pulling him into his arms, hugging him tight. “I love you,” he choked, his lips against the boy’s hair. “All of you. You’re like my own kids.” He trembled and pressed his face into Noah’s hair, crying softly. “I was so scared when Clint called. I was so afraid that when we got to the park…”

Noah hugged him hard. “That we would be gone?”

Cold shivers swept through Axel. “Yes.”

“But we weren’t,” Noah whispered thickly. “Clint warned you, and you and Cory got to us in time.” He laid his head on Axel’s shoulder. “I think you and Clint make a good team.” He drew back and looked at Axel. “Don’t you?”

The lump in his throat knotted up tighter. “Yeah,” Axel murmured. “I do.”

Noah stared at him. “You’re not really going to run away somewhere and get married, are you?”

Axel blinked then smiled. “No.”

“Good. Because I really want to be there.”

“I really want you to be. You and Noel both.” He untangled himself from Noah’s arms and brushed his hand over the boy’s head. “And when you and Chris finally tie the knot,” he teased lightly. “I really want to be there.”

Noah blushed and laughed quietly. “I really want that, too.”

Axel gazed at the boy, his heart swelling with love…and pounding with the fear of what almost happened, as his head filled with the image of the dangerous stranger getting so close to their kids. Clint rose up in his mind, overshadowing the threat.

Hurt that fucker, baby—hurt him hard.

 

•♦•

 

Foamy spit trickled from the man’s mouth, oozing strings that dangled from his lower lip. His bleary eyes—bloodshot and excreting tears of pain—stared blankly at the floor as his body continued to twitch and spasm.

But he wasn’t dead. And he wasn’t unconscious.

Alive and awake; that’s all Clint needed.

Their guest began to show signs of life when the new acquisition was brought across the floor and placed a few feet away. His heavy-lidded eyes widened then bulged. “What…” he rasped shakily, his voice hardly audible and weighed down with agony. “What…is that?” He swallowed a bunch of times and renewed terror etched his sweaty, flushed face. He was teetering on the brink of insanity from sheer pain, that much was evident to Clint. But he hadn’t taken the tumble into that abyss just yet.

Clint rested his hand on the tip of the apparatus and smiled with his mouth, not his eyes. “I told you I believed in educating the ignorant. You said you couldn’t imagine the pain of a child being raped by a grown man. Well…” Clint patted the contraption. “Prepare to be enlightened.”

“No…” Doom and despair surged across the man’s face. “I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I-I didn’t mean them any harm, it-it was just a job—that’s all!”

Angelo shot forward and nailed the man square in the face with his fist, snapping his head back and busting his nose. Blood exploded from his nostrils and flooded his chin, streaming down his throat and chest. His head lolled back and forth, eyes rolling a moment before focusing. Anthony stood before him, seething with rage, fists clenched into battering rams. He appeared incapable of forming intelligible words at the moment as his jaw clenched hard and his facial muscles popped and flexed.

Clint raised an eyebrow, looked at Angelo, then at their guest. “Well, it’s our job to look after our kids and protect them at all costs. Someone fucks with our children…then that someone gets fucked up. You get the picture?” He rubbed his mouth. “Now, we have things to do. So, why don’t we get this show on the road.”

The man coughed and bloody spittle spackled Clint’s chest. He had considered acquiring a clean shirt when he arrived here at the house but figured what was the point? He was just going to soil it again. Better to wait until they were finished.

“This little contraption,” he explained to the man as he and Cochise moved the thing closer. “Is a medieval torture device called the Judas Cradle.” They could have easily made one of their own, but there was just something special about owning an authentic piece. “Hoist him up.”

Cochise and Angelo grabbed the man’s legs, unmindful of his busted knee and blistered, charred flesh, and lifted him straight up. The guest released a strangled cry as any movement exploded his body with unbearable pain.

This new contraption was constructed of four tall wooden legs, like a stool, and a solid sharply-pointed pyramid attached to the top. Anthony and Clint slid the torture device directly beneath their guest as Cochise and Angelo lowered the man onto the sharp tip of the pyramid, penetrating his anal cavity. The man screamed when they released him, and the full weight of his body forced him further onto the point which pushed up deeper inside him, slowly tearing through his flesh.

“Feel good?” Clint stared at him without remorse as blood drained down the slopes of the pyramid and dripped onto the floor. “Consider yourself educated. Now youknow what these kids suffer.”

The man choked and gagged on his screams as each little shift of his body sank him down a little further, splitting open his ass a bit more. It was a fucking slow torture that brought about unmitigated suffering.

“Get the weights,” Clint murmured.

Cochise retreated across the chamber room and returned with small concrete blocks encased inside leather straps. He and Clint secured a block to each of the guest’s feet, the weight of which would steadily pull the condemned lower and lower onto the pointed pyramid until it literally began to split him in two.

“Not so much fun, is it?” Clint asked with cold satisfaction. “When it’s your ass getting ripped open.”