Page 181 of Retribution
“Want to try?” Adira asks, handing Wren the cigarette lighter.
Nodding, she trades the scissors for it and crouches near the ground to burn Ophelia. Our eyes all light up as she screams, the knowledge that this is just the beginning of her torture exciting us.
The cigarette lighter leaves perfectly round burn circles, and is pretty strong for being so small. It thinks nothing of burning through several layers of skin.
Game on, bitch. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll live long enough that I’ll miss my doctor appointment.
A girl can dream.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Isolde
“You drugged me, and conspired with Rock to have me raped,” Adira says, picking up a bat angrily.
“Incoming,” I murmur, tugging Wren away. She’s become mesmerized with how much of Ophelia’s body she can burn with perfect shapes.
Don’t ask, it’s the perfectionism that some omegas have.
Adira has perfect form as she hits Ophelia in the stomach, and I smirk as her body attempts to protect itself but can’t. Ophelia is stuck in place, the perfect canvas for our anger.
Shrugging, I pass around bats and watch as the omegas beat the shit out of Ophelia. Omegas are supposed to stick together in this world, and Ophelia chose to throw away that type of responsibility. She’s older than I initially thought, her lack of wrinkles making her appear much more youthful.
Even Wren gives a little growl and breaks Ophelia’s kneecaps before really getting into it and finding the pliers that Adira left laying around.
“You’re going to go to the grave in pieces,” she hisses, using the pliers to pinch Ophelia’s nipple and yanking so hard it tears off.
“That’s fun,” Quinn decides. “Do the other! Did you get the cold water treatment too?”
“Her idea of a shower?” Adira sneers. “Fucking sadist.”
God, four different people, so many shared experiences.
“Do it,” I urge Wren. “There’s no reason for her to be lopsided.”
Nodding, she tears off Ophelia’s other nipple and then gets up on her toes to go for the duct tape across Ophelia’s lips.
“Hold on,” I say, grabbing a chair so she can climb up on it. “Leave me her tongue, please. I have a few questions to ask her.”
“Got it,” Wren agrees from her current position on the chair. She isn’t gentle when she rips off the tape, making the omega scream.
“You don’t have to do this!” Ophelia screeches, her head shaking from side to side to evade Wren. “I remember you. I helped you when your alpha was angry. I made him leave!”
“You didn’t give a shit about me,” Wren rasps angrily.
Looking around, I find a pair of gloves and hand them to her. They’re the nasty blue ones that have the powder residue to help your hands stay dry, but taste gross if they’re prying around in your mouth. Don’t ask how I know that.
Wren sniffs angrily, her hands shaking with emotion as she puts the gloves on. Pliers in hand, she squeezes Ophelia’s mouth until it opens and latches her tool on a tooth.
“You helped because you didn’t have time for Trey to lose control and knot my throat,” she snarls. “My life meant nothing to you while you pinched, prodded, and primped me for your mob of buyers.”
Ophelia’s strangled scream as Wren wrestles one of her teeth free drives a thrill of excitement through me. It’s fucked up, butthis is my dopamine hit. There’s power in being the reckoning force in someone’s life, knowing they’ll eventually die by your hand.
Wren works until she tires, and then Adira takes over with a knife.
“My mates really enjoy peeling the skin from a man’s body. I doubt it’s any different when it’s a woman, especially when they’re as vile as you are,” she says.
I lose track of time as I watch mesmerized as she pulls the skin from Ophelia’s sternum to her stomach. Shaking myself from the hyperfixation, I begin to ask my questions.
