Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗

“Let me go,” Neil shouted, his voice a heavy, broken croak. “Let me go now, or my dad’s gonna fuck you up. And my brother, and my uncle, and my…” his words were cut short, replaced by a blood-curdling shriek of pain as Flo plunged the knife into his hairy armpit. His head fell back, eyes bulging from their sockets as the agony wracked his body.

Ronnie licked his lips. He tossed the cigarette carelessly to the side so that its orange tip landed with a soft fizz on one of the other gang member’s backs. The boy screeched in response.

Moving slowly forwards, Ronnie breathed out and looked up at the sky. By that time, the day was beginning to darken. The hours had slipped past at the speed of light. Time certainly had flown. So much for laying low and having time to chill out.

“Listen,” Ronnie said, his pupils settling on Neil’s blotchy face. “Your dad, nor anybody else for that matter, is going to fuck me up…” he paused, then laughed. “And I mean, I don’t know who the fuck gave you all this confidence… you said you were going to fuck my daughter up, and now look at the state of you…” he reached out and smacked Neil’s damp, glistening cheek.

Neil’s lips quivered, and his cheeks flushed red. He shook his head madly, “what? You think people aren’t going to come looking for us?” he croaked, his words tinged with doubt. “Our people look out for our own…” he added weakly.

At that, Ronnie nodded and feigned a sympathetic smile. His dark hair was tousled, his grey eyes still and intense. From across the clearing, Minnie stared at him in awe, a shiver of electricity running up and down her spine as she took him in. He was just so effortlessly sexy.

“I don’t doubt that, Neil,” Ronnie agreed, “I mean, you lot screw your own sisters after all. Nobody can fault your people for not being… close-knit.”

Teeth clenching, Neil’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he glared furiously back at Ronnie.

“But, you see,” the man continued pleasantly, “I burned your little gypsy village down to the fucking ground. So your whole family is now dead.”

“What? No…”

“Oh yes,” laughed Ronnie gleefully, “I killed every last one of them. Like pouring fire on an anthill it was. Isn’t that right, kids?” he turned to Flo, Lloyd, and Zach in turn, each of whom responded with an enthusiastic nod.

“Figured we may as well. Funny story actually, we were supposed to be not attracting attention to ourselves, but things got out of hand. Like you say, if we hadn’t, no doubt they’d all come along with their pitchforks and try to fuck up our little party here.”

Neil shook his head, his moist lips parting slightly as he stared disbelievingly back at Ronnie. Above him, the weight of his body made the branch creak.

“But…” he croaked, swallowing back a lump of despair that congealed in the back of his throat. “But… the children? My kids…” his pupils flitted questioningly at his captors.

Ronnie’s lips curled upwards in a nasty smirk. He moved his head closer to Neil, cold eyes glazing over as he fixed him with a hard, unforgiving gaze.

“Your kids,” he whispered so quietly that Neil felt the words on his cheek rather than heard them. “Are dead.”

A long, low wail of agony flooded from the young man. His head fell forwards, and a devastating rasp quickly followed, his shoulders rising and tensing as his entire skeleton became rigid with grief.

Satisfaction; the sweet, pleasurable rush of revenge sped through Ronnie’s veins like a refreshing stream of bubbling water on a hot day. He grinned wide; so that the man almost appeared manic, exposing all of his teeth.

“Do you know why they’re dead, Neil?” Ronnie asked, his eyes gleaming at the sight of his enemy suffering in the worst way imaginable. “Hey? You know why I burned your fucking kids alive?” he prompted, smacking Neil around the face as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Come on, smart guy!” he spat, a disgusting glob of his spittle landing in a grotesque paste on Neil’s blotchy nose.

“WHY DID I KILL YOUR INNOCENT CHILDREN?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE A SICK CUNT!” screamed Neil, writhing and convulsing, frantically jigging his naked body so that he swung madly from the branch; the boughs of the tree creaking loudly in protest.

Raising his eyebrows and sighing, Ronnie tutted and crossed his arms. He took a step backwards, “you know, we didn’t mind your kind. Could’ve been mates. If only you hadn’t kidnapped my daughter, strung her up naked, and beat the shit out of her…” for the first time that afternoon, with a heavy, sinking feeling in his chest, Ronnie glanced over towards Stella. At the sight of her battered skin; and the deadened look behind his little girl’s eyes, fresh rage boiled beneath inside his veins.

Along with it, there was a wave of shame. Out of all four of his children, Ronnie had always found it the most difficult to bond with Stella. He knew the reasons why, and he felt even more ashamed that they mattered to him.

It wasn’t Stella’s fault, after all.

Nor was it his or Minnie’s.

Regardless of blood- Stella was Minnie’s, and therefore she was also his. He’d been the one to bring her into the world, gently pulling her out from between Minnie’s legs in a hot, slippery rush all those years ago. He’d raised her this entire time.

He was her father.

Even if it was another man’s- a vile cretin’s- DNA that flowed through her. Even if she was the living product of rape.

He was her father.

It was his job to love and protect her at whatever cost.

So how the fuck had he allowed this to happen?

In one long, shared glance, unspoken words passed between father and daughter.

Quietly, she stood up and gingerly walked towards the hanging body, fire dancing behind her pupils; flames of anger growing taller by the second. She stopped at his side, her torso rigid as her