Demons of Abyss - Retribution

Chapter 19

WEST



What was I thinking? Why didn't I just leave her there? Because I just can't get her out of my f****d up head. All night I lay awake, thinking about those damn gray eyes with the brown ring around the iris. I shouldn't feel sorry for anyone, and yet I do. My producer would say I'm weak, but I read something else in that damn diary. The author, whom I wish I had met, wrote on one page a few words that will always stay with me. "Be tough when toughness is called for. But be always a feeling person, because that is how we were born. You don't have to show your feelings, but you have to know that they are there."

The plan with don't show feelings has somehow failed though. She makes me forget about my toughness. She makes me forget all I've been through. She makes me forget my agony. Even though I don't even know her. I only know one thing: She has the same goal as me. The same pain is in her eyes. The same cruel memories. We can help each other. We must. Because I have to bring Charly down. There is no other option for me.

And now I have a fury in my boot. If the others notice that I only got her out of there because I can't stand her staying in that hole, they would betray me to Charly on the spot. And Charly, he would make me pay for it right away. He wouldn't kill me, no, Charly is a brutal wanker who gets tuned on from the suffering of others. Especially my suffering. He always has. The scars on my body are proof enough. So I just had to be the West, known at the club. The ruthless executioner of Charly. The one who kills all the people, Charly wants dead. For the past few years, I've done little else but kill the people who rebelled against Charly. But soon it will end. Soon, I will kill him. Maybe even with the help of Kali. That name was the first thing that came into my mind when I saw her. As she stood there like a demonic warrior wiping out everything in her path, I thought of the stories of Betty. She used to read to me, as I was a child, from her books, which usually had something mystical about them. Kali, the black goddess of death and destruction. But if you look more closely at the story, she also stands for change. And that is what gives me hope. But even though I have already given her a nickname, I would like to know her real name. But as it is, she doesn't trust me, which I can't blame her for. I wouldn't trust anyone either. Least of all the people, who killed my family. I'd love to know what happened. What Charly did to her family, but if she won't even tell me her name, she'll keep that from me too.

A loud knock coming from the trunk, interrupts the silence. Damn. Can't she just stay quiet until we arrive at the quarters? I pull over, get out and leave the engine running. Then I make my way to the boot. My boots crunch on the sandy ground, and before I open the tailgate I get into position. I am sure she will attack. She is a little beast. But as I glance into the trunk, I panic. I don't see her. I only hear the driver's door, which I left open, slam shut. Damn woman. The car drives off, but I react and throw myself into the boot. Clever girl. But I'm not stupid either. The hours with Bruno in the workshop have taught me a few things too. She steps on the gas and I struggle to hold on to anything. After a few bends, I manage to reach for the metal bracket. I pull on it and then take the spanner that Kali has already fished out of the side panel and that has been flying wildly back and forth in the boot. I put it between the gap between the boot trim and the seat and use all my strength to lift the backrest out of its anchorage. It is a difficult task, as Kali drives like a maniac. Eventually I manage it. I fold the backrest forward and catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror. The action was worth it, because the look on Kali's face is priceless. She looks surprised, almost panicked. She slams on the brakes, and I am almost thrown forward. But I catch myself on the back of the driver's seat, and before she can even finish the thought of jumping out of the car, my forearms wrap around her neck. I would have expected more resistance, but she does nothing. She just remains seated and looks at me through the rearview mirror. I feel her fast pulse under my arm. She looks like she's had enough. As if she would give up, which don't suit her. She is a fighter. I've never met anyone like her in my life before. Not even the tough guys, I had to take out for Charly had that grace and pride.

"I don't know whether to think you're brave or crazy."

I can't hold back a grin. In a sick way, I'm proud of her. Proud that she doesn't give up and yet at this moment she does. I wonder what's wrong with her.

"I don't trust you."

Her words are a soft whisper and her eyes, still holding me captive through the rearview mirror, reflect distrust.

"Neither do I." I ease up a little and wink at her. "If I let go of you now, will you go back in the trunk, or do I have to knock you unconscious to do it?"

"I'm not going back there. I don't even know where you're taking me?"

I'd love to grab her right now and knock this distrust, she has of me, out of her head. f**k. I just told her I didn't trust her. She confessed the same thing to me, and yet I want nothing more than for her to do it after all. That she doesn't look at me like a person she's about to kill. So I stay calm and try to put as much persuasion into my gaze as I can.

"I'll take you to my place. There, we'll be safe from the eyes and ears Charly has at the club."

I let the cold return to my eyes as I look at her through the rearview mirror.

"Either you go back to the bunker and fight to the death or until Charly kills you, or you climb back into the trunk now, shut up, let me take you to my quarters, and we'll try to take him out together. And maybe, just maybe, we'll both survive this. You'll get your revenge and have a chance to be free."

She has been following all my words closely. I look at her, waiting. It takes a few seconds for me to believe that she is willingly choosing to die, but eventually she nods, barely noticeable. I don't let my relief show and loosen my arm around her neck. Still, I am ready to fight at any time. She is unpredictable, and I hope this will not be my undoing.

I wait for her to move. She opens the driver's door and I get out too, ready to strike, should she make a run for it or attack me. But she seems to have actually got the message. She makes her way to the boot. The tailgate is still open, and the backrest still tilted forward. The defiant expression on her face as she stops in front of the bumper almost makes me smile.

I give her a nod to indicate that she should get into the boot, but she hesitates. I am about to help her, when she finally reacts and climbs into the car. Good girl. As I close the tailgate, I look at her again. There is determination in her face.

"If you f**k with me, my last act will be cutting your guts out."

I eye her coldly and shut the lid. On my way to the driver's seat I have to grin. She is really crazy, strong and damn brave. What I have to suppress, however, is that there is something special about her. She's not a club slut, that I would find hot. No, she's graceful and f**k, I find her beautiful. A word that has never existed in my life until now. Nothing was beautiful. But she is. That's why I have to keep my c**k in check and not think about, how her body would feel under mine.

So I distract myself by getting behind the wheel and driving off. I hear a snort from the back seat and glance in the rearview mirror. She hasn't closed the back seat yet and is staring at me through the rearview mirror.

"Close that thing back up."

"Just tell me when we get there, I can still close it. I don't want to be lying around in the boot like a mafia oak."

Her words elicit a grin from me, and she notices because she turns her face away. I don't see exactly what she does then, but I also think I see something like a grin on her lips. Then there is silence, as I drive along the dark road. Occasionally I glance in the rearview mirror to make sure she doesn't take the opportunity to pounce on me. But maybe, that's because I just like looking at her. Her dark blonde hair is around her head and her eyelids are closed. She looks as if she is sleeping. Her full pink lips are slightly open, and I wonder if she has actually fallen asleep. But when I turn into the street leading to the headquarters and utter a "We'll be right there", she moves. She opens her eyes, looks at me briefly through the rearview mirror and reaches for the back of the seat. Slowly she pulls the backrest back until it locks into place. Now we both have to slip back into our roles for a few minutes. It must not be obvious, that we are working together. It must look as if I really want to teach her some manners. Like I hate her. And damn it, I'd really like to. But something inside me can't.