Page 63 of Outlawed

He thrashes and starts sobbing. I’m unmoved, thinking about Dawn’s pain-riddled eyes as she slipped away.

I hum as I press the blade through Derek’s ankle. His body offers no resistance, and the blade passes through his skin and bones like butter. “The beauty is this blade cauterizes the wound too,” I tell him right before he passes out.

“What a baby.” I toss the foot in the wheelbarrow before cutting off the other one. I toss that foot to join the first before pressing my hand to his heart and shocking it. He comes to with a gasp.

“Welcome back. Now, where was I? Oh yes.” I slice just under his knee and smile when he screams. I throw his lower leg in the barrow.

“You want to know something funny? The first time I did this, it was purely accidental. I got an order from Lacey Giles. You know her, right? You should. She reported her husband to the police for domestic violence eleven times. Each time she took him back, refusing to press charges. From what I heard from Lacey, you didn’t even bother responding to the last two calls—one of which resulted in her miscarrying on her kitchen floor because she was too weak to get help.

“What you failed to take into account was that she took him back because she was terrified. She had no support system, no friends, no family. She’d wake up to find him standing over her with a knife to her throat, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Every time she asked for help, he was released within a day and back to terrorizing her, only worse than before. Her husband, Parker, was a piece of shit who would never stop until one of them was dead, and I refused to let it be Lacey.

“I gave her a potion to slip into his drink. The same shit I slipped into your whiskey up at your daddy’s cabin. It’s a little something I whipped up that’s laced with my pheromones. It made him crave me, and when it became too strong for him to ignore, he came for me.

“The house let me know when he was approaching. The vines snatched him once he was close enough and held him for me until I could get him down here. It worked so well that I did it again and again, tweaking the delivery method as needed, and the flies walked directly into my web. How does it feel to be one of many? Sucks to not be special even in death, huh?”

I chop off this other leg before moving on to his arms, ignoring his crying.

“I’ll admit, it’s some heady shit. I feel like the Pied Piper of Crowhurst, luring you all in, but I only hurt those who deserved it. You wonder why people started rallying around me? It’s not through fear. Well, for some it might be. But for most, it’s because of loyalty. I had their backs, and now they have mine.”

He’s passed out again now. I heave as I chuck his limbs in the barrow. His torso is restrained only by the band around his neck. Not that he could escape now anyway. I look down at my blood-soaked skin and feel a sense of pride as I get to my knees and grip Derek’s hair. I press my hand to his heart and shock it again, yanking him from the dark one final time.

“Almost done, Derek. I wouldn’t want you to miss the finale and not know what will happen to you. You see that machine over there?” I use my hold on his head to yank it in the direction of the machine I brought in.

“That’s a meat grinder. Once I’ve diced you up, I’ll throw you in there, and hey presto, instant ground meat. I found a great recipe at the library that day you beat up Sarah, one that uses a few herbs and spices. I’ve gotta say, the burgers have been a huge success. Everyone was talking about them at the festival.” I grin at him as fever and panic flash in his eyes.

I blow him a kiss goodbye a second before I bring the blade down on his neck. Once his head is free from his body, I put it in the barrow with the rest of him and slice the torso into four parts, making it easy to carry. It takes an hour to mince everything and put it into the coolers. I clean the room and all the equipment before spraying myself down, too. As I air dry, I return all the equipment and load the coolers onto the hand truck and wheel it through the other room. I open the door to the cold storage room. Inside is a walk-in fridge. Goosebumps break out over my skin as I leave the coolers inside and swing the door closed. Heading out, I watch as the door to the room disappears, making me grin. I tap the wall, sending my gratitude before I skip to my nightdress and pull it back on.

I look around once more, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything before I head back out to the tunnel. The opening behind me closes as I hum my tune. This time I don’t look back, knowing the house is doing what it’s been designed to do—protect me.

And in return, I protect it right back, by any means necessary.

Epilogue 2

Riggs

I sit on the hood of my truck and wait for him. His car isn’t here, but he is. There is nowhere else he could go where he wouldn’t be found. Unfortunately for him, I still remember when he told me about this place, back when we were closer than brothers. Back before he became a threat to my woman.

I hear the snap of a twig and have my gun up and aimed in his direction as he slips out of the woods, his rifle over his shoulder, so confident in his ability to disappear that he forgot all about little old me. The second he spots me, he swings his rifle off his shoulder, but I fire a warning shot. The bullet lands in the bark of the tree beside him, splintering the wood, the deafening bang making a flock of birds take flight from where they had been perched.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Where else would I be, Beckett?”

He narrows his eyes as he moves closer, taking me in with a wariness that shows he knows just what I’m capable of. “How did you find me? Who told you about this place?”

“You did. You were never great at handling your alcohol. I warned you about it, but you told me to fuck off. Bet you wished you’d listened now.”

“So what, you’ve come here to warn me to stay away?”

“Something like that,” I muse, walking closer.

“After everything we’ve been through. It all comes down to this? You’re going to let pussy get between us?”

I lower my gun and shoot him in the foot, making him howl as he drops to the ground. I storm over and yank away his gun, slipping it over my shoulder. “You call my woman a pussy again, and the next one will be in your dick.”

He looks up at me, anger, hate, and something that looks an awful lot like remorse flashing in his eyes, but it’s too late for that. “I don’t even recognize you anymore,” he mutters.

I laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I crouch, the gun between us not wavering. “I spent a decade undercover. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Or I didn’t until Calliope.”