The Destruction of Sevyn (The Vengeance of Luther Book 1) Page 2

  “Sevyn,” he rushed out. “She said that your sister was that kind of girl—”

  “What kind of girl?” I hissed.

  Hunter’s eyes filled with panic as he swallowed hard. “T-t-the kind that got around,” he stammered. “We didn’t know she was a virgin until after the fact.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I started as I rubbed my hand over my growing beard. “Because some bitch told you a girl got around, you took that as an invitation to rape her?”

  “We were stupid kids back then, man!” he bellowed, his voice echoing in the bare walls of the warehouse. “I can’t take back what I’ve done. I’m sorry about your fucking sister, okay?”

  I stared at him long and hard. “Do you have a sister, Yorkie boy?”

  “What?”

  “Are you fucking deaf? Do. You. Have. A. Fucking. Sister?” I repeated.

  “Y-yeah.”

  “And if a group of assholes took your sister’s innocence, taped it, and then posted it for your whole school to see, how would that make you feel?”

  The muscle in his jaw twitched when he stared at me. “I’d be angry.”

  “Then you see my point,” I said with a smirk before I started to walk away, pressing the button to start the chains back up. I tuned out his pleas and yelling, as I watched the chain pull him so tightly that his body now hovered off the table.

  “Ah! Please, man! I’m sorry!” he begged, wincing against the pull of the chains.

  “Your sorry won’t bring my sister back from the dead, now will it?”

  “Luther, come on, man. Killing me won’t bring her back either!”

  I nodded. “You’re right; it won’t. But it’ll sure make me feel a lot better to know that one less person responsible for my sister’s demise won’t be walking the Earth.”

  “There has to be something I can do! Just spare me, man! Please!”

  “There is something you can do,” I mused.

  “Anything, man. Just tell me what you want,” he pleaded in desperation, sweat beading along his forehead as he still dangled in the air.

  “You can either close your eyes and wait for the inevitable, or you can watch these chains rip your limbs from your body. It’s up to you.”

  “No, please!” he screamed. I walked to the furthest side of the room and slipped on a disposable rain protector and face shield.

  “Forecast says it’s gonna rain,” I said, ignoring his begging and pleading as I walked back over to him. I opened an umbrella. “And I’m a big fan of rain.”

  “Fuck you, Luther,” he cried out. But I only smiled in response as I watched the chains stretch him further and further as he screamed and begged. Just as he and his friends made my sister scream and beg as they ripped her apart that night. And as he screamed his final scream, I put the umbrella over my head just as the chains reached their limit and pulled his arms and legs from his body, the remaining of him falling back onto the long table with a thud.

  I chuckled. “Forecast didn’t say the rain would be red. What a nice surprise,” I mused. Hunter lay on the table, his body jerking as his blood spilled on the floor, his limbs still dangling from the chains. I moved over to him and cocked my head as he gasped for breath, bloody foam coming from his mouth. “Just like the others, you got what you deserve.”

  His eyes stared at nothing as he bled out, his chest finally ceasing all movement. And as his skin paled, my shoulders sagged in slight relief. Pulling out Logan’s picture, I smiled.

  “Got the last of the three morons, sis,” I said, staring into her smiling face. Now it was time for the main event, one I’d waited seven years for.

  When I got my hands on her, she wouldn’t know what hit her. And boy, did I have plans for all seven of those bitches.

  SEVYN

  They said that the number seven meant completeness and perfection.

  At least, that was what my parents thought when they named me that. To them, I was their perfect little girl who could do no wrong, but they didn’t know what I was capable of. They didn’t know the guilt that I carried for seven years. And they definitely didn’t know about the cutting sessions I still had when they thought I was “cured” from my depression.

  I definitely wasn’t the perfect angel they thought of me to be.

  There was something about emptiness that was haunting, a spot you couldn’t fill no matter what you tried to jam inside of the void. Drugs, self harm, the dicks of many men. Nothing took away the gargantuan amount of guilt that sat inside of it, but yet didn’t fill the emptiness. Especially not this moron rutting away on top of me.

  “Fuck, Sevyn, you’re so tight,” he moaned as he pounded into me, but I barely felt a thing. Aside from the emptiness and numbness that I felt most days, the man hardly had a dick to feel in the first place. Women around town didn’t call him Micro Marco for no reason, but he was a warm body to occupy my thoughts for the time being. I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and noted that it was 12:14 in the morning. Just three more minutes, I thought to myself. As well as having a micropenis, he didn’t last very long either.

  He was handsome at least. Muscular build, a head full of soft, dark hair, and the warmest dark eyes I’d seen on a man. He used to supply me pills and marijuana when I used to do them a few years back, but now he was set on keeping me clean because he “loved” me. We weren’t exclusive to each other, but he was a good guy whenever I decided to finally settle down. Unfortunately for him, I was incapable of love. The last time I’d loved someone was back in high school, and when he broke my heart in ways that couldn’t be overcome, I vowed to never fall for anyone else. Now my life consisted of fucking random men, a shit ton of therapy, and cutting sessions.

  I winced when his hand gripped my upper thigh, his fingers pressing along the fresh cut I’d put there moments before he’d arrived. His callused hands probably didn’t feel the marred flesh and I purposely kept the room dark so he wouldn’t see them. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have tonight and the sooner he finished, the sooner I could get him out of my bed.

  “Fuck…fuck…it’s coming,” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he quickly pulled out and jerked his tiny cock over my stomach, streams of his cum tainting my skin. I rolled my eyes as he panted above me. “Did you come, babe?”

  “I was almost there, but it’s okay,” I lied, giving him a small smile. I barely felt anything to even get anywhere near the edge, which probably showed on my face with the way he frowned at me. “Really, I’m fine. I’m just a bit distracted right now.”

  “With what?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Does it have anything to do with why you’ve started cutting again?” he asked, his voice soft yet accusing.

  I sighed deeply. “It’s not anything I want to talk about, Marco,” I ground out as I tried to sit up. “Maybe you should go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. What’s going on with you?” he asked, his beautiful brown eyes filled with concern. The streetlights that peppered downtown Miami shined in the window of my condo, illuminating his face in a yellow glow. His eyes searched my face for an answer that I couldn’t give him. The last thing I wanted was another lecture on how I was being paranoid and reminders that Luther was dead. It was only rumored that he’d killed himself; no one had any confirmation. My parents hired a private investigator who couldn’t find Luther anywhere, but also couldn’t find a death certificate, grave site, or any indication that he’d been cremated either. He wasn’t dead, contrary to what people said, and the recent murders of old classmates didn’t bring me any kind of comfort either.

  “I said I don’t want to talk,” I snapped. “It’s getting late. You should go anyway. I have therapy in the morning. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  His thumb lightly brushed over my fresh cut, his brows furrowed. “You know he can’t hurt you, right?” he murmured.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The guy yo
u’re afraid of. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him hurt you.” He looked back up and met my gaze. “I can have guys posted around your building and—”

  “I don’t need a babysitter and I’m not afraid of anyone,” I retorted, but with the way my voice shook as I spoke, I knew I hadn’t convinced him. “I just…two of my old classmates were murdered recently and it’s been a bit hard to deal with.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Were you close to them?”

  They were friends of mine back in high school, but I wouldn’t say we were close. We just ran in the same group; we were popular rich kids, which was probably the only thing we really had in common. Josh, Tyler, and Hunter were jocks that my friends called “The Three Stooges” because they were idiotic guys who only got girls with their good looks, money, and athletic abilities. They had about as much personality as a wet plank, but were still popular in our school, which made them the guys to want to be friends with.

  If they were any other person, their deaths wouldn’t have affected me so much. But I couldn’t shake that eerie feeling that their deaths were something bigger than just a random murder and too much of a coincidence.

  “Sevyn?” Marco called out as he caressed my cheek. “You’re always disappearing into that pretty little head of yours out of nowhere.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “No, I wasn’t really close to them. It’s just sad when someone I know dies.”

  “What happened to them?”

  I shrugged. “Josh was beheaded,” I started. Marco squinted at me for a moment before he snapped his fingers.

  “Yeah, I heard about that on the news a little while back. And the other dude they think was related to him in some way was shot, right?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded, but I knew how the police actually found him. One of my best friends, Rebecca, had a guy she’d dated once who worked in the police department. She used his affection for her to get any information she’d wanted and asked about Tyler’s death after she’d slept with him. While he was shot, it wasn’t in a normal way. A shotgun barrel had been shoved into his ass and shot through his body. No fingerprints, no evidence, no witnesses, and no leads. Same for Josh’s death. The police were no closer to knowing who was going around killing these “stand up men of Miami” and quite frankly, it put me on edge because there was one fact that stood out.

  Josh and Tyler were killed seven days apart from each other. And if I were right about my theory of this being connected to me somehow and someone was back to make us all pay, that meant Hunter would be on the news in the coming days.

  “Well, like I said, no one is going to hurt you, beautiful. I’ll make sure of it. My guys and I will take anyone out that even hints at wanting to cause you harm,” he promised, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He irritated me in ways I couldn’t explain. His “guys” only consisted of him and three meathead men that were built the same way as him and just as moronic. They couldn’t protect a raw egg from hitting the ground, let alone protect a human. Marco always talked of himself as if he was this huge king pin that ruled the streets of Miami, but he was only a petty drug dealer who worked as a bouncer at the club we’d met at in the first place. I doubted he’d be able to protect me from whoever was doing this when the time came, so his words went in one ear and out the other.

  “Well, thank you for wanting to keep me safe, but I’m fine,” I said, giving him a small smile. “But really. It’s getting late and I have therapy in the morning, so we should call it a night.”

  “You know I can’t leave until you get yours, Sevyn,” he murmured as he moved down the bed and settled in between my legs. While the man couldn’t fuck to save his life, he definitely made up for it with his tongue.

  I bit my lip the moment his tongue touched my clit, a mixture of pain and pleasure consuming me as he also squeezed my upper thighs. His dark, hungry eyes watched me as if trying to navigate my expressions like a guide to determine how to please me. I rolled my hips against his tongue and while I saw Marco’s face between my legs, I couldn’t stop thinking about the one guy that held my heart in a way that no other man ever would. Anytime I was with another man, I still thought about him. It was strange how you could both love someone with your entire being but hate them at the same time for what they did to you. I supposed the latter feeling was mutual because he now hated me, too.

  And I couldn’t blame him for his reason why.

  Marco jerked me out of my thoughts as his rapid tongue assaulted my clit, pleasure gliding along my nerve endings as I rocked my hips quicker. I was so close to the edge yet so far. The build up was always there but I just couldn’t reach the top that I needed to. Once I was frustrated enough, I gripped his hair tight and did what I’d always do. I moaned, pulled his hair and bucked against his face to pretend that I’d had an orgasm just so he’d stop and get the hell out. He suckled my clit for a few moments more and I pretended to twitch, purring in hopes he’d think I was satisfied. He peppered my inner thighs with kisses before he finally slid back up my body and planted a firm kiss on my lips.

  “Always so wet and sweet,” he whispered. I gave him a small smile.

  “Now I’m really tired,” I murmured, covering my mouth while letting out a pathetic yawn. He chuckled and kissed me on the forehead before getting off the bed.

  “Okay, okay, you don’t have to keep hinting that you’re giving me the boot,” he said. I watched his naked form move around in the dark as he gathered his clothes. “When can I see you again?”

  I propped myself up on my elbow with a sigh. “I’m not sure. I have a lot of things to do this week and my family is dragging me on vacation. Said I needed to get out more.”

  “They’re not wrong,” he said with a smirk, pulling his boxers back on. “I hardly even see you at the club anymore.”

  “I just haven’t been in the mood to go out lately.”

  “Is it because of the murders that’ve been happening?”

  I shrugged. It was a number of reasons. The murders, my growing paranoia, the fact that Logan’s death anniversary was quickly approaching and bringing back my crippling depression along with it. “I just haven’t been in the mood,” I finally said.

  “Fair enough.” He pulled on the rest of his clothes and walked over to the side of the bed, still buttoning his shirt. “You know you can call me anytime you need me, right?”

  I nodded. “I know, Marco. You tell me that every time I see you as well as in a text message every single day,” I mentioned with a sarcastic grin.

  “You don’t have to be an asshole about it,” he said with a chuckle before leaning down to kiss me again. “I’ll call you later.” I nodded as he started to walk away but he paused and looked over his shoulder at me. “And answer when I do. I’m sick of talking to your voicemail.”

  “I’ll do my best if I’m not too busy,” I said. “Promise.”

  And though he nodded, we both knew I was lying. I only called him or answered his calls if I needed him, otherwise he went straight to voicemail where I’d delete the recording without even listening to it. I got out of bed and followed him through my condo to let him out. He turned and blew me a kiss before winking at me, a chill running down my spine. I quickly closed and locked the door and leaned against it as my breaths came in quick, my anxiety almost crippling me. It was such an innocent gesture that sparked so much fear when that one particular memory came to the forefront of my mind. No matter how hard I tried to block that time out of my life, the devastating guilt and memories of everything always wormed its way into my current thoughts. Sometimes I wondered if it was my spiritual punishment for what I'd done considering that I practically got off without so much as a warning. And honestly, I would've rather served time for my actions instead of dealing with the mental torment that I dealt with now.

  I hadn't seen Luther Evans since the trial, but he was always on my mind. Just the thought of him sparked my fear ever
since he winked at me in the courtroom, planting that tiny seed of promise and fear before he was pulled away. It was only a wink; he never said a word to me but that sinister grin on his lips and a simple wink was enough to rock my entire world. After being friends with Logan for years, I knew very well what Luther was capable of. Growing up, no one dared to mess with Logan or her friends because everyone knew of her big brother that was nicknamed Lunatic Luther. He'd mellowed out a lot over the years but when Logan died, the lunatic within him returned. And when he winked at me in court seven years ago, I knew deep down in my soul that this wasn't over.

  It was far from over.

  I padded back through my quiet condo and headed to the master bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower. As I waited for the water to warm, I studied my reflection in the mirror. It was so easy to pretend you were fine when you really weren't. My light brown eyes appeared to be full of life despite the fact that I felt dead inside. Thanks to spray tanning, my soft, tanned skin gave the illusion that I'd been spending my days on the Miami beaches near my condo instead of my actual reality of being holed up inside my home due to paranoia. My lean, curvy figure hadn't changed despite the multiple times I'd trashed my body with drugs, emotional eating, and self-harming tendencies. People usually thought I had it all just by looking at me, but the only thing I had was the blood of my ex best friend on my hands.

  Stepping into the shower, I hissed as the hot water hit my fresh cuts. I wouldn't complain though; pain seemed to be the only thing I could feel these days. I scrubbed my body until my skin was raw and red, pausing when I heard my phone ringing from my bedroom. Probably Marco already, I mused, rolling my eyes as I massaged shampoo into my hair. But the phone didn't stop ringing. After one call stopped, another would come in. After the fifth call, I frowned. Considering how late it was, I didn't know who else would be calling other than Marco, but five times back to back was pretty excessive, even for him.

  I ground my teeth and rinsed the shampoo from my long, black hair before turning the water off. A sixth call came through as I yanked a towel from the towel rod and wrapped it around me. Strolling out of my bathroom and into my bedroom, I grabbed my phone from my bed to see Rebecca's name on my screen.