Page 4 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

Ripley

Eyeing the SUV parked just up the street, I slip my Glock into the waistband of my jeans, brush my hand over the blade in its holster, and slide out of my car. Rounding the vehicle, I open the trunk, grab my black tool bag, and slam it shut.

Fuck being discreet.

The drive over only served to put me in a state of rage as I sat thinking of Enzo’s hands on her. At this point, I’ll probably make a fucking mess, because I’ll cut them clean off his arms if they’re on her when I see him.

Adrenaline surges through my veins at the thought of slicing my blade through his flesh. Too long I’ve wanted to hear him scream for his life, and tonight, I’d make that dream a goddamn reality with a side of go fuck yourself.

All trap houses are the same in these parts. Boarded up in the front to keep that abandoned look so cops don’t get curious—not that they’d venture into some of the houses. Depending on the trap lord, they could find themselves strapped down with all variety of guns waving in their faces.

I make my way to the side door, ready to pull my piece if some asshole is bold enough to hold a gun in my face.

The house is quiet as I enter the kitchen where garbage and needles are scattered all over the floor. The scent of mold and sewage crinkle my nose, only adding to the disgust already churning inside my stomach. Tugging my gun, I slip through the kitchen to the living room, also empty, and make my way toward one of the back bedrooms. A scream from somewhere upstairs rakes down my spine, like a blade skating across my bones, and I snarl at the familiarity of Dylan’s voice.

Backtracking, I head up the staircase, taking light steps.

Enzo is going to be my worst kill yet.

5

Dylan

I tug at the straps binding me to the metal at all four corners of the bed. A sharp sting slices my hip, and I cry out as the cool air hits between my thighs where they’ve cut my panties away.

I spit at Randy’s cheek, taking in some pleasure as it oozes down his face. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His face stretches to a wicked grin. “No, but I know what you are afraid of,” he says, head turned to the side. “Hey Rook, grab that gnarly bastard you found the other day.”

My stomach twists at that.

Rook returns with a peanut jar, and all I can make out at the bottom of it is black. Big black furry legs that skitter along the edge as he turns it in front of me.

I clamp my lips together, not saying a word.

Laughter fills the room as Rook uncaps the jar over me, letting the mass of black fall to my stomach.

Tremors wrack my body as the spider unfurls its legs across my abdomen, my muscles locking up with the tension of holding still. A scream bubbles at the back of my throat and I grunt, clenching my teeth to keep it trapped while the terror beckons me to scream.

I won’t. Fuck them.

“Look at that,” Randy whispers. “So tough now. Your big bad wolf turned you into a badass, huh, sweetheart? Did he fuck you? Huh?” Fingers dig into my cheeks, crushing my teeth and Randy’s jaw clenches, eyes furious. “Did. He. Fuck. You?”

A tickle of crazed laughter pounds in my chest. “Yes,” I grit out. “He fucked me so good. And I loved it.”

His eye twitches and he moves his hand to my throat.

I open my mouth to a silent gasp as he squeezes hard enough for stars to dance before my eyes.

“You’re going to fucking kill her!” Rook slams into Randy’s arm, knocking it away, and I swallow a gasp between coughs. “Shhhh.” Rook’s voice is at my ear, his breath on my neck, and I slam my head into his face with a sickening crunch.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

Randy chuckles off to the right of me, before Rook adds, “Hit me again!”

A powerful force strikes me from the side, rattling my teeth, and the pain radiates to my head. Another feels as if it’s split my lip in half. I let out a moan and cough, rolling my head on the bed to abate the ache.

“C’mon bitch! Hit me again!”