“It depends on what he believes happened between us. If he thought you touched me, he’d make me pay for that. His jealousy would send him into a rage.”
“How do you want him to pay for it?” I ask, and she takes a deep breath. Her eyes dart back and forth out the window, and I can tell even the thought of him makes her uneasy. She still fears him even when we have him locked down, and that sends a chill through my body.
“He’ll never touch you again. I promise you that. And if it’s too uncomfortable, you don’t have to talk about it. I’m asking because whatever he would have done to us, that’s his worst fear. And I want to make it come true for him. I want every second of this today to be pure fucking hell for him,” I explain.
“What about getting information about my father?”
“If we get him to confess something we need about your father in the process, all the better. But my main focus is makinghim realize how badly he fucked up with you. Making him pay for anything and everything he ever did to you.”
“I think you overestimate how much my husband cares about me. I doubt you’ll get much that way. You’d be better off offering him cash or leverage. He’d probably betray my father easily for that. If you gave him a better deal, I mean. I'm surprised it hasn’t happened yet. Corey never was very loyal.” She shrugs.
“He cares. Trust me. The tattoo he put on you? The other women? That’s all because he wants you, and you don’t want him. That eats at him. It'd fucking kill me to have a wife like you and have you hate my guts. I’d probably fucking hang myself. Unfortunately, he didn’t do the right thing and listen to that instinct. But we’ll fix it.”
“You’re going to hang him?” She sounds surprised.
“In a manner of speaking.” I can’t help the morbid grin on my face. Torturing this man is going to be a simple pleasure.
I put him in the cell to fuck with him for a while, but I also wanted time to plot how I’m going to make him suffer. Any of the ways I could get him to talk for us and exact the most retribution possible for what he's done to her.
“Well…” She shifts in her seat.
“Well?”
“I do want to see him suffer. Of course some part of me does, but it feels wrong at the same time. Like I’m betraying the promises I made at the convent. It would make me feel like one of those peasants in the crowds of medieval movies. Cheering on his demise.”
“You’re not cheering on his demise. You’re cheering on him getting a taste of his own medicine. The tiniest bit of justice for everything he did. You don’t need to feel an ounce of guilt. I’m doing this because I want to. I’d do it regardless of whether or not you were here. I’m just happy to let you watch so you can know he’ll never touch you again.”
“Touch.” She blurts before she takes a steadying breath. “Touch me in front of him.”
“Touch you?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly.
“Touch me like you’ve already been with me. He doesn’t know the truth. It’ll kill him. He obsessed over the fact that I wasn’t a virgin on our wedding night. He said that my former boyfriend had ruined me for him. Do that, and you’ll get a reaction.” She stares out the windshield, smoothing her thumb over her nail as she speaks.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure. I trust you.” She nods, turning to look at me.
I’m not sure she should trust me. Touching Zephyrine will be playing with fire. Doing it in the same room with him, I'll be tempted to make him understand how terrible he's fucked up. Like playing with gasoline next to a bonfire.
TWENTY-FOUR
Zephyrine
I watch,half mesmerized and half horrified, as Levi uses the pulley system to hoist the gambrel with Corey attached like an animal ready for slaughter. His arms are spread wide, and I watch the tendons strain as they take on the weight of his body dangling in the air. Levi stops just as the tips of his toes can almost still touch the hay-littered floor at his feet.
Levi winds the rope around the pole to hold it in place, tying a quick knot to secure it. He pulls it tight and then walks around to get a better look at his prey, tilting his cowboy hat out of the way for a clear view.
Corey grimaces, his jaw tightening as he strains against the position that Levi’s put him in. His fingers are stretched, and a deep, pained grunt emanates from his chest. He sneers down at Levi.
“Comfortable?” Levi looks over him in amusement.
“Fuck you.” The tone of his retort is less sure than his previous swagger.
Whatever they did to him while he was in that hole Levi put him in, he looks like death warmed over. His blond hair is greasy and stuck to his forehead, his clothes are dirty and rumpled—one pant leg still ragged and bloodstained from the bullet wound Levi gave him, and several days of stubble on his cheeks makes him look slightly gaunt and adds to his general disheveled state. His bleach-white veneers look out of place with the rest of his appearance, one of the many things he prided himself on. He’s lost weight since I saw him last too. There used to be some muscle to him, but it all seems to have evaporated, and it makes me wonder what he’s been up to.
“Good. Glad to hear it.” Levi gives him several hard pats to the side of his cheek. “Just wanted to be sure you have a front row seat for the show.”
Corey doesn’t answer this time, only giving another groan as he tries and fails to pull himself up, using the leverage of one arm to try to dislodge the other from the gambrel. It makes a loud clanging as he moves, and I jolt a little at the sound.
