Kane

I rub the swastika carved into my chest, rocking back in the office chair of the old foreman’s office at the front of the mine. The familiar raised lines ground me, along with the ache of the gunshot wound in my thigh.

Jolene. That faithless bitch will be under my control again soon.

It turns my stomach that my own flesh and blood betrayed me the way she did. She even went so far as to marry one of these dago bastards.

I need a release.

The Luciano girl fought hard, kicking and lashing out against Joe Bob and Finney when they put her in the cell. I’ll go down and play with her, put her in her rightful place.

I gesture for Finney and Joe Bob, who are outside my door waiting for orders. Finney is young, not seasoned to violence like most of my men. “Gonna show you how to interrogate a prisoner.”

The kid’s pimply face pales. I need to toughen him up.

Lucy is curled in the corner of the cell but stands when we arrive, chin up and defiant.

“Your brothers are going to need proof that you’re alive.” Her eyes widen as my words sink in. Yes. I breathe in the scent of her fear, and it shoots a thrill of joy through me.

She’s a pretty girl, even with her eyes swelling up from getting smacked around. But I’d never dip my wick in the polluted twat of an impure woman. “You get to decide which finger I cut off.”

Her gaze hardens and she sneers at me before raising her middle finger. She’s got balls.

I gesture with my head and the boys enter her cell. She puts up her little fists and spits on the ground. Joe Bob reaches for her but she dodges, her back smacking into the wall, her fist shooting out and catching Finney on the chin. He steps back. Coward.

“Get her into the chair.” My voice echoes in the small chamber.

Finney steps forward and she kicks at him, her foot connecting with his shin. Joe Bob grabs her arm and she screams, the high-pitched sound of an animal caught in a trap, and then bites down on Joe Bob’s hand so that he cries out. He smacks her with his free hand hard enough to knock her off-balance. Finney grabs her other arm and Joe Bob helps him as she thrashes, her small, supple body not nearly strong enough to defeat my men.

Even once she’s bound, wrists and ankles locked into place with the leather straps, she shakes her head back and forth, growling like an angry puppy.

I hate dogs.

Ever since that bastard, Cash Luciano, shot me and took his big hairy bitch back, I’ve been off the mangy beasts—more trouble than they’re worth.

I step up in front of the girl. “Look at me.”

She keeps her gaze averted.

I raise my hand and smack her face, the sound of my flesh connecting with hers a solid thump, like when I’m banging a woman just right. I smack her from the other direction, and blood trickles from her mouth. “That’s for the attitude.”

Her head lolls and her gaze is unfocused. I bend to make eye contact. “How many people are inside the Haven?”

She spits at me. I step back and it lands with a pathetic splat on the stone floor.

I click my tongue. “Joe Bob, the pail, please.”

Joe Bob grins, and it’s not a nice smile. He goes and gets the bucket we left for her to piss in. I turn to Finney, whose eyes are huge. “Lean her back.”

Joe Bob fills the bucket from the spigot in the hall.

Finney holds the chair so that her face is turned to the ceiling. I step into her view and she blinks, her lips pressed tight together. Joe Bob hands me the bucket, water dribbling from it.

“How many people are at the Haven?”

She closes her eyes, seals her lips, and goes slack against her restraints. It’s not until I’ve been pouring water over her face for thirty seconds that she begins to turn red, then very pale. The changes fascinate me. Sometimes heroes are born in the toughest moments. Like me, raising from my trailer trash roots to leading the Great Nation America movement.

And sometimes heroes just die.

Lucy thrashes and sputters, finally taking in some of the water, choking, her eyes widening. Yeah, that’s what drowning feels like, bitch.

I ease up, and she sucks in deep breaths, her gaze holding mine.

Cold, sharp, gut-splitting hate fills her eyes. I maintain eye contact and face that seething disgust, slowly smiling.

We are the same. Filled with evil.

I’ll break her down further, but it’s going to be a process, and letting her think about it might speed things along. “I’ll give you a rest for a while, and we’ll pick this up again later.”

Joe Bob and I leave Finney to guard her, then navigate the tunnels back up top.

The bulbs on a wire still work, old lighting from the seventies when this copper mine was in use; all they needed was a little juice, which we brought with a generator.

I rub my wet hands together. That girl is going to be downright miserable, because the place is damn cold; winter seems permanent since we moved in here last fall. Our location an hour north from the Haven has allowed us to build quietly through the winter, gathering supplies, recruiting, and training for the battles to come.

The memory of the raid last year still makes rage flush through me.

Rage is good. Rage is what the mark on my chest is all about: the dominance of a superior race, rising up to take back our country.

And I’ll rise again, when I’ve got Jolene back and take the Lucianos’ Haven.

As we walk up the slanted tunnel to the entry of the copper mine, passing boxes of weapons, ammo, and canned goods, confidence surges through me.

The Luciano girl will get me back Jolene, and unlock the gates of the Haven. And with Jolene and that secure base, I can finally fulfill my destiny—leading this great nation back to glory.