When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWO

JAX

“You wanted a sick show, I’ll fucking give you one,” I snarl, shoving my thumbs down into his molars.

His eyes widen fearfully as I curl my fingers around his jaw, and as swift as an arrow, I rack his jaw to the right. A crack rings out from it getting forced back into place, and a sharp scream claws out of his lungs.

Jesus. My head is pounding.

Ripping my gloves off, I toss them in the trash can next to me, eagerly pinching in between my brows to help relieve the pressure from his insistent crying.

I can’t imagine it feels good to have your shit rocked so hard it dislocated your jaw and severed your tongue.

Crimson is spewing over his bottom lip, trailing down his chin and pooling in his beige shirt.

The sweat misting his forehead has his red hair matted to it, the blood from his eyebrow spilling watery down his cheek.

“They’re just stupid fucking dogs!” he bellows, words garbled from the blood.

Digging into my pocket, I fetch out my balisong and do a quick double roll out to open the blade. His eyes blow out to saucers and frantic screams pour from him as I grab his ear. Like cutting butter, I slice it off right at the skull.

Ignoring his cries, I hold it up to taunt him. “You didn’t use this when your mommy and daddy tried teaching you acceptable human behavior. They probably couldn’t even keep pets in the home out of fear of what you’d do to them.”

“Y-you just cut my fucking ear off over mutts! And you want to talk about acceptable human behavior?”

“Good observation.” I stop for a fake laugh, tossing his ear like a Frisbee. “My bad, man. I was talking into your bad ear.” Digging my blade into the disgusting mess on the side of his head, I grow serious. “Where’s Brutus Tuffin?”

He screams loud enough for me to see his uvula vibrate in the back of his throat. It just pisses me off more, and I dig my blade in farther, causing a squelch that spurts out crimson.

“I don’t know-I don’t know!” he chants in agony.

“But you do!” I bark. “You know what I hate more than the pieces of shit that pit dogs against each other? Liars,” I finish venomously.

Rolling m y? balisong into an ice pick, I plunge it down into his kneecap, giving her a good twist to the left.

He tries bucking his hips, but, you see, the leather straps prevent him from going anywhere. He can hardly move a muscle. His face grows hysterically red, bringing light to a vein that’s bulging in the middle of his forehead.

I want to pop it.

I know it would be messy as hell though.

“I… I don’t know where he is. His fights are never in one spot,” he blubbers, the sound irritating.

“Wow, that was useless as fucking shit. You think I don’t already know that? Cough something the fuck up! Make it good and worth my time.” I glower at him. When he has nothing to say, I crank my blade to the right, making a big, nasty hole in his knee.

“Just fucking kill me, please!” he cries. Some more.

Snot is dripping out of his nose and seeping over his top lip. It makes my lips curl in disgust. I can handle dismembering people. Something about seeing a grown man blubber himself to a snotty goddamn mess makes me want to look away from the pathetic sight.

“Nah, man. Not until you make yourself useful. For once in your life.” I dislodge my blade and hover it over the three fingers that are spread out for me. “If I were you, I’d spill it. Get it over with so you can jump into the flaming gates of Hell.”

I’m sure there’s a special ring of embers for sick fucks that get off on abusing dogs.

Painfully slow, I apply pressure on his fingers, drawing out every sharp sting of my blade biting him. His teeth gnash together, veins popping in the whites of his eyes, and he starts hyperventilating .?

“He lives in the woods somewhere! I don’t fucking know!”

I chop his fingers off, deadpanning as he screams bloody murder. I quickly shut him up, answering his prayer by ramming my knife into his temple. “Dumbass,” I mutter.

There’s something interesting tingling my skin. Otherwise, I’d watch the life drain from his shitty eyes.

Turning my head, my heart comes to a full stop as I rip my blade from his dome.

Hol y? fuckin’ shit.

I’m seeing Heaven and Hell collide.

It’s pulsing and wavering everything around me, shining a haunting light on the most darkly ethereal woman.

Her silky, raven hair is extremely long. It frames her heart-shaped face and distinctly contrasts against her fair skin in the most incredible way. She has th e? pouties t? goddamn lips I’ve ever seen. They’re rosy, glossed over—and begging to collide with mine.

Kissing her is probably magic. No. It’ s ? definitel y? magic.

The dim light catches in her golden pools of amber, and my breath gets stolen from my lungs. They’re unique, round with a slight upturn in the outer corners, leaving a sliver of white to peek under her irises. She has permanent bedroom eyes that are tired but striking to look at.

She could ask me anything and I’d sa y? “yes ma’am.”

I want to know who the fuck left bruises aroun d? m y? girl’s neck. And who the actual fuck is making tears well in her Venus eyes.

It’s clear she has broken pieces. I bet they fit perfectly with mine.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes quickly, trauma whispering in her tone.

I’ve only seen a body look like that in porn. You know that shit’s always fake. But you can tell hers is completely natural, runs in her genetics. Her dress is molded deliciously to her tight waist, spilling out the tits that would fill my hands perfectly and allowing me to see the way they bounce while she frantically dashes away from me.

Like my body craves hers, I drop my knife and run to the door, catching it, and watching the siren run away from the man she just lured into her enchanting trap.

Fuckin’ hell.

Her thighs are skull crushers.

Her dress is doing nothing to hide how out of this world her hips are. They roll with each fast step, crafting the most knuckle biting waves in her ass that not even leather would be able to anchor down.

I think she put a spell on me.

Must’ve with the way I’m following right behind her.

I’m intrigued. Obsessed even. It negates the tiny Angel on my shoulder, forcing me to only hear the Devil.

I need her. And I need her to need me.

I stop, heart palpitating as I watch her sexy boots thunder up the metal steps. Her tiny dress inches up, teasing me with the crease of her bouncing ass. My jaw tics against my will, and I turn my sight away before I end up getting another glimpse of the black lace covering the pussy I? kno w? is pretty.

She barrels through the door, snapping my attention right back to her and the way she collides into Maverick. I keep my steps light up the annoying stairs, tilting my head and observing the dynamic I didn’t know they had.

I made the move to Anchorage a year ago . ? Club Si n ? piqued my interest as I was researching the place. So, I dug more into it, hacked into his cameras, and got annoyed with how easy it was to access all his shit. Including the files and spreadsheets for his percentage of the blow that’s sold and his tax cut on poker and roulette.

I showed up, sat in his office—and waited for him.

Long story fucking short, he hired me to encrypt his servers. Now, I kill the idiots that fuck with his money and get paid nicely for doing so. He also keeps an ear out for dogfighting banter, lets me know who and where, and I kill them.

After I torture them for information, of course. I’m not a rookie. I’ve been methodically plotting my vendetta for fifteen years and have been actively hunting down Brutus Tuffin for three.

I’ve killed a lot of pieces of shit in that time.

Out of all the faces I’ve slaughtered, the raven-haired man-eater that’s holding on to another man while walking away from me—is haunting my mind. She’s otherworldly. Her beauty doesn’t make sense to human life.

It’s soul-altering. I’ve never felt so weak in my knees before. I’ve never felt my heart skip a beat, or bang against its cage—until her.

The stars align and she turns her head, golden eyes landing on me.

Who are you, little wolf?

I rub over the mess that dude made on my knuckles, watching a mighty fine specimen disappear from view.

I’ve never seen her here before. From my observation, her and Maverick are good friends. Surely, I would’ve gravitated towards my vixen if she was here at the same time as me.

Where has she been? Busy with a boyfriend, perhaps?

I’d hate to kill someone solely for being in love.

Who am I kidding? I don’t give a shit. I’ll take out anyone that gets in my fucking way and erase them from her memory.

She’s mine.

I have the hands that were crafted to caress her unholy curves. No other man can properly handle them like I will.

She didn’t scream when she walked in.

God, she’s unreal. My perfect mystery.

I need to go chop that guy up. The wolves are picky and like their cuts a certain way. But I’m not complaining. They do me a favor and turn scumbags into shit.

One of the benefits of moving to Alaska. Before them, I had to burn the bodies and grind the remaining bones and teeth down. It took way too damn long.

The entire time I discard the dude’s clothes and cut his frail body up with a neat little saw—flashes of the unknown woman plague my mind. I bet she has an infectious smile and laugh. I couldn’t hear her voice too well over my heart slamming in my ears, but the way she breathed her words was so damn husky.

I want to hear my name on her tongue.

Impatience begins crawling under my skin. It aggravates me while I shove the body parts into a trash bag, growling in vexation as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I drop the meat bag by my feet, wedging my sticky hand into my denim pocket and yanking out my phone.

Maverick. Interesting.

I answer, holding the speaker to my ear and saying nothing.

“I have a job for you. A long awaited one. I’ll pay you two mill in cash if you get it done within the next two hours.”

Could it possibly be the boyfriend I’m getting paid to kill?

“What’s his name?” I grumble.

“Lia m? Zettle. Make it as painful as possible,” he says quietly.

His name alone makes me want to kill him. Jesus. That’s awful.

I hang up, stash my phone back into my pocket, and haul the meat bag over my shoulder through the tunnels and up the stairs. It’s not the money I’m chasing down. It’s the gut feeling that this fucker did something to my little wolf.

After taking the dog abuser’s body parts to the drop off for the wolves, I watch them chow down for a beat, then make haste back to my car with the empty trash bag.

Light is breaking the horizon, meaning Liam will be heading to his job at the bank soon. I pulled up all his information on my laptop on the way to the wolves. There was nothing indicating that he was ever in a relationship with anything other than nights out with his shitty looking friends.

But I routed around that. Clicked a few times, pulled up different profiles—until I saw pouty, rosy lips stretched into a white smile.

Tal a? Akir a? Huxley. Even her name is picturesque.

She’s the daughter of Damascus and Evelyn Huxley, the creators and owners o f? Howling Haven. Her parents keep up with social media, advertising the sanctuary and posting the updates they make to it. But my girl hasn’t posted anything in eight months. The only recent things on her profile are the images that her parents have tagged her in, each one broadcasting the fake smile she would paste on for the camera.

I roll up to the bank, reversing into a spot that gives me a wide view of anyone coming or going. It’s not long before th e? douchebag’ s? lifted truck pulls in, spitting out black exhaust that smells like sulfur.

I fetch my pack of cigarettes from my pocket, plucking one out and grabbing my Zippo, then toss the pack to an empty cup holder. I spark it up, lighting a cherry at the end of the paper poison, and take a drag while stepping out of my Demon.

God, this guy looks like a tool. His white button up is neatly tucked into the belt looped around his khaki pants, attempting to put up a facade. A good boy act that I see straight through.

His dark circles are beyond that of exhaustion. They’re sinister, adding heinousness to his slicked back, brunette hair.

I toss my Zippo to the passenger seat, closing the door and walking my ass across the parking lot. Must be a scary sight. His eyes widen and his steps skid to a stop in the middle of the lot, anticipating the apparent horror stalking closer.

I’d be a little amused if it wasn’t a common occurrence that my appearance unsettled someone.

I don’t mind it. I prefer it.

“Hey, man,” I say reservedly, smoke sifting through my teeth.

He tucks his hands in his pockets, oscillating his head for a saving grace. “Uh, can I help you? Bank doesn’t open for another hour.”

He checks back in with me, drawing his head back as I stop in front of him, having to look down at the purse pooch. “That’s fine. I’ll get my money a lot quicker than that.” I smash the cherry into his eye, putting out my cigarette and slapping my other hand around his mouth to muffle the childish scream that ruptures out of him.

The stench of burning skin and hair travels up my nose. My lips faintly twist, and I pull the cigarette away, flicking it towards his truck. I speedily drop my hand from his wailing mouth, throwing back tightened knuckles and striking him in the temple.

The ire fueling my muscles knocks him the hell out, shutting his crybaby ass up and sending him tumbling towards the pavement. I launch my hand out, twisting it into the buttons of his shirt and yanking him back up. “Where are yo u? goin’?” I taunt.

Dragging him along with me, I pop the trunk of my car, tossing his body into it like a rag doll. I grab his left hand and stick it out, then slam the trunk on it. Four times. Each one crunching and demolishing the little bones. “That’ll hurt like a bitch when you wake up, dick.”

An old lady shuffling towards the flower shop next to the bank waves at me. I raise my hand, politely waving back, and she smiles, using her cane to steady her steps. I watch her unlock the door and get inside, then drop my ass into my seat and take off.

The drive to my house takes a little longer than I’d like. There are only a few streets to detour through once the morning shift gets out and clutters the city up.

That’s why I prefer to handle my business at night.

My shop’s built separate from my house in the woods. I don’t want to haul these fuckers through my living space. My dog’s in there. Probably pissed as hell at me right now.

The silhouette of his sharp ears and long face is in the glass front door as I speed up my paved driveway. I’ll fuck this guy up, then go pacify Sirohi’s attitude over my absence. I usually take him with me. But I was already out following red and blue flashing lights when Maverick called about the dude talking about dogfights in the tunnels.

Pulling in through the bay door of my shop, the rumbles of my car’s engine hums against the epoxy floor. Motion detecting lights flip on, illuminating what appears to be just your average garage with my bike and truck parked inside.

I kill the engine and hop out, making haste to the ass end of my car. Cold, bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose greet me as I pop the trunk. His left hand is shattered, already turning shades of purplish black.

“You’re fucking sick in the head,” he spits out, snot and legitimate spit flying everywhere.

Grabbing him by his shirt, I yank him out with a sinister grin. “You have no idea. Just wait till you see my rats.”

Fear blows his eyes out, instituting an amused smile to stretch on my face. I drag him back to my favorite room, and he thrashes, screams, and cries the entire way.

Unsettling fluorescent lights flicker on, displaying the nylon chair with leather straps, an embalming table, and several tool racks and benches. Hammers, saws, drills, pliers, knives, metal wire, you name it, it’s here.

A metal racking system sits off to the left. That’s where I breed my rats. Nothing will light a fire under someone’s ass more than rats eating away at their stomach.

It’s fucking brutal. You can take out teeth, cut off fingers, and stab them. But it’s the rats that get them talking.

“What the fuck is fucking wrong with you?” he rages, his ass meeting the nylon chair.

Rolling open my balisong, I stab it through his right hand. Blood puddles through the wound and a scream tears through his lungs as I quickly strap him in for his painful ride. The veins in his neck are so prominent, one little nick to them would paint the walls crimson.

My favorite color.

While he screams and blubbers, I grab a pair of curved jaw pliers from the second drawer of my work bench. The cleaning crew is great at what they do. You would not think these bad boys have pulled out hundreds of teeth.

The metal glistens under the anxiety inducing light, causing his dazed eyes to round. “Is this about Tala? Did that bitch put you up to this? I promise her fucking pussy isn’t worth torturing someone over!”

I get on his level, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Stop speaking her name. It’s too pretty to come out of that vile mouth of yours.” Shoving the pliers into his shocked mouth, I grip around his left wisdom tooth, cracking it to the right and jerking it out.

“Fuck!” he bellows.

Holding out his bloody wisdom tooth, I taunt, “Phew, look at those roots.”

Blood fills the seam of his quivering lips, adding to the pathetic tears spilling over his sweaty cheeks. I can tell his vision is shaky, spinning like he can feel Earth’s rotation.

I want some more teeth though.

While I set his tooth down on the stainless-steel table next to me, he blubbers, “Please-please don’t do this!”

I have no clue what this asshole did to her. But I’ve been eye to eye with rapists before. I’ve also been nose to nose with abusive fucks. The murky blue doesn’t veil the barbaric thoughts circulating in his dense mind.

I snatch his jaw and dig my fingers through his cheeks, into his teeth, forcing him to open his trap. “Did you stop when she begged you to?” I shove my pliers in, gripping around his right wisdom tooth. “Wh y? the fuc k? would you expect me to?”

I crack it, rip it out, and toss it to the table, just to go right back into his shrieking mouth. I keep pulling his teeth flawlessly given the convulsing state his body is entering. Now, his mouth is just a bloody mess of gaping gums. He’s still alive. In maddening pain, but still breathing.

I had to go by the store the other day to pick up Sirohi’s fresh fruits and vegetables and saw this little thing sitting on the end of a shelf. I think it’s to froth milk or some shit. I want to see the damage it will do to an eye. If any.

I grab it from my work bench, press the button at the end of the handle, and my brows slightly shoot up in surprise. I hadn’t really messed with it yet, but it sounds like a little saw and spins fast.

Surprisingly fast.

I tap it to my hand, making sure it won’t stop upon impact, and feel the metal scrape along my palm. It wouldn’t do much on any other body part. But it’ll fuck an eye up.

Setting it down on the table full of his teeth, my knuckles crack at my hips before sending a left hook into his cheekbone. Just because. Fuck this guy.

Blood flies out of his mouth, splattering all over the stainless-steel table and on my face. His eyes roll around as he lazily straightens his neck, grunting in pain and showing off his nasty gums.

He chokes down a mouth full of warm iron. “I… I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. She’s not the little princess everyone thinks she is,” he says hoarsely with a garbled lisp.

“I don’t need you telling me shit about her. I see her for who she is. Not some made up label and standards created by pieces of shit like you who are so goddamn shallow and narcissistic they don’t even get past the surface. You should feel lucky you got to breathe the same air as her.”

“What di d? she do? Sacrifice a beloved wolf to get you whipped and kissing her feet? Wouldn’t put it past her, bitch is-”

I rip m y? balison g? out of his hand, shredding his filthy words into a violent shriek, and plunge the blade into his chest. I intentionally punctured his left lung, instituting a wheeze from his shriveling mouth.

I drive it in until my hand meets his chest, getting nose to nose with the piece of shit. “I was going to continue fucking you up, draw out as much pain as I possibly could. But I really like the idea of letting you slowly die from an agonizin g? hemothorax. In here, in the dark, with only the fucking rats to keep you company. They’re smart enough to get out of their racks and will start feasting on you within a few hours of smelling your body slowly rotting.”

Crimson puddles and streams over his bottom lip, drawing in a winded, wheezy, painful breath. He stares off like the light is finally dimming in his malicious eyes. The eyes I still haven’t fully fucked up yet.

While he sits there zoning off like an ol d? gramp s? with dementia, I snatch his sweaty, sticky hair and grab th e? frother. I don’t give him a second to wrap his slow mind around it. I hold down the button and press it into his burnt eye.

His singed eyelashes get wrapped up in the rings, shredding his bubbled skin and flaying open his eyeball. His scream is guttural and winded, growing hoarse with irritation.

Me? I’m cringing. It’s disgusting.

I’ve seen a lot. That’s the first of that.

Jesus Christ.

Ripping it away, I toss it onto the table and let go of his mop. “Keep that one eye on the fuckin’ rats. They’ll be swarming you before too long.”

I collect his teeth and walk out, slamming the metal door behind me. I’m ready to be done with looking at the disgusting piece of shit. The room will smell rank when I check on him in twenty-four hours. It’ll be worth it though.

He deserves to die painfully and all alone.