Vengeance pulled to a stop in front of the small, rundown house that was where Craig supposedly lived. Although it was dark outside it was clear the windows had been blacked out, painted not to allow any light to penetrate inside.

“This it?” Weasel asked when he pulled to a stop beside him.

“That’s what Tryk found.”

“Well, let’s get this fucking party started.”

Vengeance couldn’t have said it better himself.

* * *

Constance had her hand covering her breasts, and the other covering between her legs. Craig stared at her, lust in his eyes, desire clouding the area around him. She’d bathed and now stood out of the tub, water dripping from her.

“Move your hands.”

She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was soft, barely even audible, but fuck him.

He took a step closer and she moved one back, but the bathtub stopped her retreat.

“I can see you’re going to be difficult again. I thought we had an understanding? I thought you were on the same page as me?”

Playing like she could get out of this, like she could be with Craig in order to save her life, made her feel disgusted. No, she couldn’t pretend, couldn’t act like she could be okay with this. Constance didn’t want Craig thinking there was any hope.

She’d rather die than let that happen.

“You might as well kill me, because I’ll never be what you want me to be. I love Vengeance.”

He curled his lip in disgust.

She swore she heard something outside of the bathroom, but with her heart thundering, her throat tightening, she chalked it up to her wishing Vengeance was here.

Craig moved closer, and before she knew what was happening he backhanded her so hard her entire body twisted to the side. She fell, hitting her head on the side of the tub, pain consuming her.

And then she swore she did hear Vengeance calling her name, right before there was a loud crash and the bathroom door was splintering inward. But darkness swept her under before she could see what was going on.

* * *

Vengeance stared at the motherfucker who had been about to do God knows what to his woman. All he could think about when he looked at this piece of shit was the things he would have forced her to do, the way he’d made Constance feel.

All he could think about was seeing Constance on the floor, blood pooling from her temple, and the fear that she was gone slamming into him. Thankfully they got her to their doctor and they got her stable. But who knows what kind of mental shit this fucker had put her through?

Rage and murder filled his head. Vengeance curled his hands into tight fists at his sides. This bastard would pay with his life.

They’d taken Craig back to the clubhouse, were in the basement now, and this was where the prick would die. The had Craig in a chair, his arms and legs bound, his face bloody and beaten because Weasel had gotten to him not more than twenty minutes ago.

Craig was passed out at the moment, most likely from the pain, but he’d be awake soon enough. Vengeance walked up to Craig, backhanded the fucker, and smiled when Craig stuttered awake, moaning form the agony he was clearly in.

He took a step back and thought about how he’d do this. Fast and easy had never been his thing, but then again he wanted this fucker gone so he could be with Constance.

Vengeance swung out and connected his knuckles with the fucker’s face. Craig’s head kicked to the side, and he groaned. He hit Craig again, this time successfully knocking a tooth out.

Craig struggled in his bonds, and Vengeance grinned at that. Blood was a continuous flow from him, and a small pool was now on the floor beneath the man. Good. By the time they were done he’d be soaked in the viscous fluid.

Over and over he punched Craig, and soon the fucker was hunched forward, his breathing ragged.

“Brother, finish the bastard off before he dies and you don’t get that final blow in.” Weasel stood right next to Vengeance now, clapped him on the back, then moved to the other side of the room.

Vengeance didn’t do that though. First he walked over to the table set up in the corner, grabbed the bottle of Scotch and downed three swallows before finally returning to Craig. He stared at the man he was about to kill, the prick who had traumatized Constance. He would have hurt her, raped, hell, might have killed her just so no one else could have her.

“Here, brother,” a Patch said, but Vengeance was too lost in what was happening to know which brother it was who handed him the knife. He grabbed Craig’s chin, forced the fucker to look at him and bared his teeth.

“You should have walked away. But taking my woman, hurting her, doing the unthinkable things you would have done to her, signed your death warrant.”

And then he slid the blade into Craig’s gut.

Vengeance took pleasure in stabbing the motherfucker over and over again, blood covering his hand and chest and splattering on the ground like some grisly massacre. Vengeance pulled the blade out, blood dripping from the now red-stained weapon.

He saw Weasel on the other side of the room, this sadistic smile on the fucker’s face. Weasel liked violence, loved delivering it as well as watching it.

The sound Craig made was one of his lungs filling up, his body shutting down. Vengeance bared his teeth, stabbed the fucker once more, and twisted the blade one last time as the life faded from this motherfucker’s eyes.

Silence filled the room when Craig gave one more stuttering breath.

Vengeance moved back, stared at the piece of shit that wouldn’t ever hurt Constance again, and felt … relief. “Time to bury this fucker six feet under.”