Chapter 46
Noah
“Come repent and let us say grace.”
There’s a nervous energy around her. Agnes doesn’t like that I’m the aggressor. She hates the lack of control.
That, and whatever is inside the door behind her must be important. Very. And I’m hoping my instincts are correct.
Before I leave this forsaken place, I need Valerie’s blood on my hands.
“Nothing to say, sister?” I sneer, and then back up an inch to appraise her.
She’s standing there trying to seem unfazed, but I know better now. They taught me this much. To watch for the little things.
Someone who’s nervous has tells, and I see hers clearly now.
Those beads.
They hold her secrets.
When in control, her prayers are calm, almost condescending as she circles her prey ready to attack. To deal a death sentence without remorse is her bullshite notion of being righteous in the Lord’s name.
However, I know for a fact that the moment she takes her last breath, hell awaits her soul. She’ll burn for eternity in anguish, while those she stole from look down without an ounce of empathy in them. And I’ll be one of those people one day.
However, that’s not what this is now. No. Now, she’s fidgeting—trembling while glancing to the left every few seconds. Expecting help that will never come.
“You selfish asshole,” she hisses a few seconds later, beads moving faster in her rotation. “You’ve ruined everything. Our cause has suffered, and the damage is catastrophic.”
“Are you kidding me with this shite? You have suffered?” My growl reverberates down the hall and echoes. The blood in my veins throbs with the need to strike her. God, I want to. “Fuck off with that load of rubbish.”
My words seem to catch the attention of a man who stops and whistles at us.
My eyes snap to his.
He’s in a dark suit—face hidden by the shadows near this hall’s entrance. This man pauses long enough to look at me—an entire minute goes by and he just stands there, only to then disappear with the crowd, blending in before I could make out the details on his face.
And yet, he seems familiar. . .
A sudden blow to the side of my head causes me to stumble back and into the opposite wall. That man all but forgotten, I glare at Agnes.
The nun stands in front of me, beads now around her neck as if nothing happened. I have no idea what she hit me with. Nothing is in her hands, except the glint of two gold rings. Did she have those before?
“Never lose sight of the enemy, child,” she admonishes. “For he is cunning and strong—a snake waiting to strike.”
“I’m going to enjoy killing you.” My head throbs, and I can feel the blood trickle down the side of my face. “The choice of how is up to you, though? Merciful or slow. . .drawn out.”
“Death doesn’t scare me.”
“It should.” Then, I lunge myself at her. Our bodies collide, the impact hard. My weight slams her into the wall as my hand wraps itself around her neck. “Where is she?”
“Do your worst.”
“Last chance.” Nothing. Not a word. “Have it your way.” I pick her up off the ground, body thrashing before I slam her back into the cold, concrete surface, twice, and a sickening crack of a bone breaking follows. My guess, I shattered her shoulder. “Ready to talk? Cooperate?”
“Fuck you,” she groans, and the sound of her agony spurs me on.
I bring her face close to mine and kiss her mask at the forehead. “Forgive her father for she—”
“Drop her, Noah. We need her alive.” The voice is male.
“No,” I spit out, wanting to smash her face in. After everything she did? No. “She doesn’t get a free pass.”
“I promise you on my life that she won’t.” It’s a man wearing tactical gear holding out a badge. His credentials claim his name is Marcus Stevens and he is part of the F.B.I. One of the good guys. “Life in prison, and I’ll make sure the death penalty is pursued to the fullest extent, but, unfortunately, we need her.”
I don’t trust him, but I do lower my arms with Agnes in them. “Why?”
“Because this isn’t an isolated case, Mr. Barker. This black-market operation far exceeds anything you can imagine and is intercontinental. Everything from murder, rape. . .organ trafficking—she’s the key to saving thousands of others like you and Ivy.”
Like a sack of potatoes, I drop Agnes at their feet. “Take her before I do something you’ll arrest me for.”
Two other men enter the hallway and haul her to her feet, handcuff her, and walk back out as if nothing happened.
In and out, while I watch, trying to regulate my breathing.
A throat clears. “Nothing we say can take away the nightmare you endured—”
“No. You can’t.”
“And that’s why I’m letting you enter that door behind you. Relief will come in the end.”
“What do you mean?”
He ignores my question and pulls out his cell phone. “Is there anything we can do for you? Call someone?”
“Find Ivy and bring her to me.”
“I’ll find her myself.” Marcus nods and then he too leaves me alone in the hallway.
Relief will come in the end. . .
I place my hand on the handle and turn. It does with ease and then I push it open. The room is dark. Massive.
Eerie, yet opulent. Almost twice the size of the prison cell we were in.
Perverse. Reminiscent of the owner’s heart.
Everything is black, except for the rug beneath my feet and a large white fireplace mantle directly across from a Louis XVI style bed made from African blackwood. Any other time, I would say it’s gorgeous with its intricate design and expensive bedding in different shades of grey and more black.
Above the fireplace, and across the large wall, hang three TVs in a row. Each has a split screen with different “rooms of horror” playing in real time. Except the one in the middle. The largest.
This one has our room—replays the day they forced me to take my girl in the ass for the sick pleasure of their audience.
A large wooden dog cage sits beside the bed instead of a traditional nightstand. On another corner is a sex swing, same model. However, it’s the last item that reignites my fury.
A godforsaken record player playing that lullaby.
Why something so simple causes me to snap, I don’t understand, but the fury is too much to contain.
At once, I’m across the room and tearing the needle off. I break it from the player, and then toss it back onto the bed. The snap of the vinyl is loud, but somehow, the voice that follows makes me smile.
“Agnes, sweetheart, we need to leave. Are the cars ready?” A sink turns on then and my eyes flicker toward a door I hadn’t seen. A bathroom?
She’s inside, and my smile grows.
It all makes sense.
“Agnes? Answer me!”
Marcus gave me a gift that will bring me peace of mind. Ivy some closure.
This room was made for a king, but only an evil queen resides here now. One who didn’t expect to ever find herself in this room alone with me.
The rage, it builds, and I shake. I’m wound tight, a lion ready to strike.
This isn’t normal, and I feel as though I watch the seen unfold from outside my body.
One second, I am at the record player, and the next it’s yanked from the wall, cord torn at the end. The vintage piece is slightly large, but I lift it up and over with ease.
I kick the door in and it bangs open, creating a hole where the handle meets a wall.
“What the—” Before she can finish her question, I slam the corner of the player at her temple. One solid blow and she wobbles, disoriented. One minute Valerie is on her feet, and the next, she’s on the ground screaming in pain.
From her temple to the apple of her cheek, she has a gash that spills red onto her white tile floor.
“Hello, Valerie.” At the sound of my voice, she tries to crawl back and deeper into the equally large bathroom. “What? Nothing to say?”
Not a damn peep. For someone so hellbent on demanding and degrading others, Valerie just looks up at me with the fear of God in her eyes. Good. She should fear me.
I drop the heavy player on her leg and walk back out and take a seat on her ridiculously large bed with my face in my hands. Breathe in and out.
So much is running through my mind.
The days of endless chaos. The many times drugs were fed into our system without a care to how we would react. How much abuse my doll took—verbal and physical.
And while a part of my psyche is telling me to walk away and not hit a woman, I can’t. Not with her.
God forgive me.
The needle of the player is a few inches from me and I grab it before standing once more. I look up into a mirror and the devil within is clear as day on my face. This time, it has nothing to do with the demonic makeup done for the ball.
No. This is me. The new me.
To protect, I will kill. Have killed.
She’s where I left her when I walk back into the bathroom: on the floor, looking up and around the room. Her eyes are crazed, scared, the smell of piss permeates the air. . .
“What a mess, Valerie. So nasty,” I mock and close the door behind me. No interruptions. Let anyone that comes in think that the whore is taking a shower.
“D-Don’t,” she stutters, holding a hand up. It’s shaking. “We can work something out. No need for violence.”
My next strike comes in the form of my foot meeting her midsection. Immediately, she curls into herself, groaning. It’s still not enough.
Will never be enough.
Not after watching them torture Anne.
Kill Robert.
Bleed Jamie to death.
How she almost sold Ivy to be taken brutally by that fat shite.
With a look around the room, I toss the broken stylus onto a solid surface nearby and look down at Valerie. Rejoice in how pathetic she looks at my feet.
“No violence, you say?” Bending at the waist, I fist her hair tight in my hands and lift her to her feet. Face to face. “We need to discuss this theory of yours like two deranged adults would.”
Together, we walk to her already full tub, bubbles almost overflowing the edge.
Her eyes widen, and she trembles in my hold. “Noah, I—”
My open hand connects with her face, splitting her lip at the corner. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl like the beast she made me into. “You don’t get to plead. Not a word. Nothing, unless it’s to explain why you’re so obsessed with Ivy?”
At the mention of my love’s name, her features harden. “That spoiled little bitch has been given everything. Her entire life on a silver platter.”
A chuckle escapes. “So, you’re a jealous hag? That’s it?”
“Should’ve killed her that first night.”
“Wrong word choice.” Hair tight around my fist, I drag her over the tub and push her face into the hot water. The dried blood on my hands mixes with her bubbles, creating a pink froth around her head. She thrashes—tries to push up, but I tighten my hold. “Think carefully about your next choice of words, mistress.”
Forty seconds pass before I pull her up.
Valerie chokes on her need for air. “You asshole!”
“Back you go,” I laugh and force her down for an entire minute and a half. Her body is becoming lax in my hold, but I don’t relent. She’s going to suffer like we have. “Ready to be civil?”
“Please, stop.” Convulsing, she gags and a mixture of bile and water spills from her lips. “I don’t want to die.”
This angers me, and I bring her face up to mine. “Why?”
“Because you were supposed to be mine.” It leaves her on a low whisper, but I hear it loud and clear.
All of this is because of me.
Because I fell in love with Ivy.
Petty jealousy and a wounded pride.
“Listen to me very closely, Valerie. Pay attention to my words, because they’ll be the last you ever hear.”
“No. No, please. I need. . .” her fingernails dig into my arms, break the skin “. . .give me another chance. I’ll disappear.”
In one swift move, I’m standing behind her bent over the tub, hovering with my lips at her ear. “I wouldn’t fuck you with someone else’s cock.” With that, I grab the needle from her precious record player and embed it deep into her right eye socket. She screams, and I push the diamond tip in deeper. “Your ugliness comes from within, Valerie, and should’ve never been allowed to live this long. Burn in hell.”
I slam her head back under and the water blooms red.
It takes two full minutes for her body to stop moving. And another five for me to let her body go.
She’s dead.
Never again.
Ivy is free.