Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) (26 page)

BOOK: Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy)
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And as an extra incentive to maintain contact with Edward he gave me the gift of being a millionaire as well as tracking down Roman and his men to tip them off on Sebastian Gorman’s recent whereabouts.

When I glance at the clock as I lay Winter down, the time reads 6:17 and it gives me a warm and fuzzy feelings to know right now in my old life, the man I once would do anything for is either dying or on the slow path to his guillotine.

Elizbeth Chaisson may have been a sad and pathetic pawn all her life, but Blythe Cage will be as fierce as the color red and she’ll never foolishly hope or dream of love.

Blythe Cage will never need anyone or anything except the woman looking back at her in the mirror.

 

Chapter 34

I don’t want to be the person you see before you. But men like me, men tainted with evil, men whose hands are as stained with innocent blood as mine? No matter how hard I try or how much I want to be a better man, it’ll never be in the cards for me.

The redemption I never believed I deserved but still fought for against all odds will remain the only feat I wasn’t good enough to conquer.

And so yet again, I stand before you as a man unchanged and unforgiven.

A man who will always remain the man you detest.

Sadist.

Motherfucker.

Murderer.

Monster.

Your favorite… Lucifer’s Belial himself relishing in the blood of those who hurt the two people I love most in this Godforsaken life I continue to suffer and live.

I hope you finally realize why some men cannot be reached…

When you think back on my story, remember even the bête noire, the Black Beast, at least tried to become the white knight you so desperately hoped I could be.

I do not pray to any God, nor do I pray to myself…prayers aren’t answered for men like Roman William Payne.

“Andrew transfer my father into the cell beside his whore’s and be sure he gets a bird’s eye view of what will happen on the opposite side of the two way mirror.” I look over my shoulder at Heather’s three brothers, “It would be in your best interest for you three to leave now. I spoke to Dr. Harrison and Dr. Sharp, as soon as we landed. Heather’s been discharged, she’ll need someone to pick her up from the hospital. I’ll be too busy assuring my guests are settled in as uncomfortably as possible. Plus, all my tools need to be sharpened and moved from the storage to down here.”

Before giving them a chance to argue I turn my back, dismissing them from my mind to return to the task at hand.

Two hours have passed and everything is set up perfectly.

After I push play the dark classical sounds of
The Kiss
by Trevor Jones & Randy Edelman pour from the Bose surround sound system and flow beautifully through the master suite and bathroom. I peel the blood soaked clothes from my skin and step into the shower reveling in the feeling of twenty showerheads pelting my flesh with scalding hot water.

Once I’ve showered, scrubbing the blood of my enemies from my body and watching as it circles the drain, I step from the shower and dry off. I choose my black on black suit, comb my long black hair back, slip on my black leather Ferragamo shoes and slide my arms into my black suit jacket before clasping the onyx cuff links to my sleeves and then step from the dressing room as the black melody continues to set my heart rate to an even beat. 

When my feet hit the soft Berber carpet my eyes land on my most prized possession, Heather Mackenzie Payne. The black chiffon floor length gown has an empire waist making it slightly hard to tell she’s fifteen weeks pregnant with my son. Her makeup is as dramatic as it is perfect, and her long, pale blonde hair spilling down her bare back contrasts beautifully against the dark as night silk lace and chiffon dress.

If I am the Bête Noire, then Heather is my Ange Noire, she’s my Dark Angel.

She hasn’t moved since our eyes met when I walked into our master suite. She’s as still as stoic as a goddess, the rage just beneath her surface would go unnoticed by any other man than the one standing before her, the man utterly and irrevocably in love with her and her alone. To anyone else her malevolence can only be seen from behind her dark eyes.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, my Ange Noire. Are you ready? You don’t have-“

“Rome, I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Yes, I’m ready.”

I slowly approach her and gently cup her face in my hands. With her shoulders remaining back, she raises her chin to meet my gaze head on. It’s in this moment I realize my mouse was never a mouse, she’s a goddamn warrior. She loves as fiercely as she protects. This dawning takes my breath away and at the same time I feel the heart in my rib cage jolt to life. I suddenly feel humbled, blessed, to have her as my wife.

I nod my head before bowing it against her forehead. “Then let’s go bleed those responsible for our continued pain until they are dry, shall we?”

Heather brushes her soft lips against mine before looping her arm around my extended elbow.

As we walk from our room through the double doors side by side she calmly speaks with hard determination, “Sebastian’s blood is mine. I could fucking care less what you do with his mother.”

My Ange Noire.

My Heather.

My Mac.

My Mace.

My mouse.

The mother of my children.

The lover of the Bête Noire.

My wife.

As we walk into the cell in the basement shoulder to shoulder, both Sebastian and Dolores look up, fear so strong you can not only smell it, but you can also see it staring back at us.

“Let the games begin.” The Devil’s smirk snakes its way across both Heather and my faces.

“Indeed, let’s.” My dark angel replies.

I’d done most of the work before Heather returned home. After spending a lengthy amount of time snapping every bone I could with my bare hands that Sebastian possessed, I scored his flesh with my favorite paring knife for every day he had my wife, then for every day he had my daughter. Before I removed his scrotum I did give him a chance to tell me who had my daughter. I gave him a second chance to tell me afterward, when he remained silent, I sat my blade on the table and grabbed a grapefruit spoon. When I turned to show him what I was going to remove his cock with, his face did go pale. However, when I asked who Lizbeth was, he declined to answer. Consequently, he lost what was my favorite appendage of his to remove.

Dolores didn’t need as much carving as her son did. She’d spent months being beat and cut to the edge of death only to be left alone for a few days, fed watered, and bathed before being dragged back to the edge of death.

Breaking Dolores was a little tricky at first. It seemed the more pain I inflicted the more her defiance grew.

It was Andrew who discovered the chink in her armor. The key to her devastation was found within the words my father spoke.

At least that was the case…until I dragged her bleeding son into the cell and shackled his arms and legs at awkward and unnatural angles to the wall facing her.

I didn’t do these things to keep Heather from the retribution she justly deserves. I did them because I had no other choice. The monster inside me allowed no less. I’ve wanted Sebastian’s head on a stake from the moment I realized it’s always been him lurking in the shadows, plotting his scheme to finally get the chance to steal everything and everyone I love.

Walking away knowing he still breathed was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done; besides being forced to first live without my wife, then losing our daughter. Still uncertain if Heather and I will ever see her again.

“Rome, I really wished you would have at least left me his pathetic, worthless cock to remove.” She glances up from sharpening her own blade and looks over at Andrew, “Andrew, make certain it’s duly noted I was cheated out of snipping away this pussy’s manhood, please.”

Andrew looks over to where I’m securing the heavy chain from the shackles pulley system hanging from the ceiling. I can’t keep the chuckle in as I shrug. “Do what the woman says.” I glance at my wife before walking from the cell, “Mouse, do you need anything? I have to step out, make sure Father’s paying attention and we’re still on the same page.”

Her long thin fingers grasp the grapefruit spoon, the smile on her face is deliciously wicked, “No, I think I have everything I need. Actually, a sparkling water would be lovely.”

I nod towards Andrew and he returns the gesture acknowledging his order.

As I step into the basement hallway I hear a sinister voice ask her victim, “Tell me, how much did it turn you on when the brother you’ve envied for so long finally wrapped his hands around your impotent cock before using this to remove it?”

Goddamn, the woman is worse, or better, however you look at it, than I am.

After grabbing a wooden stepstool from the garage, a can of gasoline and a box of matches I head back downstairs.

The moment I walk into the cell, her menacing laughter sends chills down my back and my earlier thought becomes solidified when I see she’s already removed one of his eyes and is currently carving the eyelid off the opposite eye.

“Can you comprehend what lesson I’m teaching you? Hmm…I probably should’ve waited before cutting out your tongue, but then again it wasn’t very useful. This segment of today’s lesson is called an eye for an eye. Now, as much as I think I deserve two eyes for an eye, I want you to do what you’re best at, watching.”

She sets the spoon back on the table in the middle of the room. “What better way to prevent a watcher from looking away, than removing the irritating eyelid from your brow down?”

I place the wooden stepstool on the floor then make my way to Heather. My arms circle her waist and my hands cradle her slightly swollen belly. My lips brush the crown of her head before making their way to her ear and whispering, “Do you know how fucking hard you make me when you talk shop, Ange Noire?”

“The evidence of that can easily be felt at the small of my back.”

“Mouse, I’m sorry, but play time is over. Ready?”

“How long were they questioned?”

“Over a month. The entire time you were in the hospital.”

She turns towards me and for a moment sadness clouds her eyes, “And still nothing, nothing about where Ivy is, or who she’s with?”

I’d give almost anything to be able to tell her differently, “No, mouse. I honestly don’t think they even know. They were both questioned by Andrew with a polygraph attached to them. What little they did answer, it was enough conclusive evidence for me to decide keeping them alive wouldn’t help us our daughter back.”

She gathers her anger and rage and pulls it around herself like a cloak of armor. The sadness is replaced by determination in her eyes, “Then yes. I’m more than ready.”

The following five minutes and thirteen seconds passes quickly. I secure Dolores’s hands behind her back and lead her to the stepstool. After a futile fight from her and even less of a resistance, in the end she steps on to the stool. I drench the stool as well as her from the neck down with gasoline and slip the heavy chain suspended from the ceiling around her neck.

Once I’ve set the stage for the death of a woman I would have never thought I’d kill, I step back looking over at Heather and watch as she finishes sharpening her blade.

As if she senses it’s time for the end, her eyes glance up and bore into mine, “I only want her alive long enough to witness and process her son’s death after I’ve slit his throat from ear to ear. I’ll make sure most of his mother’s flesh has melted from her bones before allowing the idle hand of mine holding the blade at his neck into action.”

She flashes before my eyes in slow motion.

Heather.

Heather giggling as a little girl with her head thrown back, her long pale blonde hair behind her swinging in the wind that hot summer day in the park.

Heather.

Heather in the library, full of sass and innocence, asking if a seat was taken as the sun filtered through the windows creating a halo of sun shining through the same color as her blonde hair I now remember from the first time I saw her.

Heather.

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