Poison Ivy Ch. 08

"Baby girl," he croaked, his voice broken from all the screaming. Kind of how she'd sounded after he'd strangled her. "Tell them to stop this," he pleaded. "Tell them how good I was to you, my baby girl, tell them how good I made you fe-"

Startled, Ivy jumped back when Hunter came out of nowhere, crouching down in front of his prisoner, his hands gripping Maverick's dyed blonde hair. A strip of duct tape was slammed over his mouth, with much more force than was truly necessary for the task. Hunter's threatening growl reverberated throughout the entire room, rattling even her bones. Still gripping his hair, Hunter came face to face with the monster, almost until their noses were touching.

"You will pay dearly for that," Hunter snarled. "No more talking."

With that, he stood up and took several steps back, standing out of the way, but closer than he had been before. Ivy crept back up into Maverick's line of sight.

Bile rose in her throat as she looked at the man who had caused her so much grief and pain. She truly thought she would be sick to her stomach as she crouched down and peered into his shit-brown eyes, remembering the dulled, lifeless eyes of Kentucky, staring at nothing as she'd escaped the asylum. She remembered the scream he'd pulled from a very pregnant Aella, all just because she had gone to talk to the injured soldiers at medical. She remembered the pain of watching as he'd emptied three rounds into Hunter's chest. She remembered the marks of abuse on Aella, bruises and cuts he'd delighted in pointing out to her in order to ensure she stayed compliant. And she remembered the feel of his belt cinched around her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe as he shoved his cock down her throat, and she had to swallow a few times before she found her voice.

"You prey on those smaller and weaker than you," she said softly, trying to keep the enraged tremor from her voice. "Because you're a fucking coward. You manipulate, and cheat, and lie to get what you want. You kept Aella and her brother prisoner for seven years!" Her voice was growing in volume, a low, feminine growl erupting from her chest. "You tried to kill my mate!" she seethed, getting closer, her hands curled into fists. "You endangered both the mother of your child and your newborn baby in order to control me. You drugged me. Touched me. Beat me. Forced me," she whispered, blinking back angry tears. "And you killed my best friend." She was face to face with him now, staring at the puffy-eyed, duct-taped fool who had been starring in her nightmares.

She glanced over her shoulder, to where Hunter was standing guard just a few feet away. His gaze was scorching, beyond furious. But when they locked eyes, he softened, and gave her a small nod.

She turned back around. "I believe I made a promise to you, Mav. And unlike you, I'm not a traitorous, cowardly fucking liar. I keep my promises." Maverick looked up at her, his eyes wild. His screams were muffled by the duct tape, but she was glad to know that he remembered exactly what she had told him she'd do.

"I need a knife." Her tone brooked no argument. She felt Hunter's hesitation, his apprehension and fear for her. Fear that she couldn't handle this. But none of this was really about her, was it? This was Maverick's big day. Ivy didn't have an impressive social circle. Hers was small, and relatively new, but it didn't make her any less protective of those in it. Today, Maverick was paying for the pain he'd inflicted on the small group of people she cared about. It didn't matter how or who collected his debt.

Maybe it made her evil, or royally fucked up, but this was not something she would carry on her conscious after she walked out that door.

After another moment of silence, a long, army standard issued knife was placed into her upturned palm. She glanced up to see who had allied with her, because the rush of anger she felt through the bond told her it definitely hadn't been Hunter. Instead, she was confronted with Pyle's goofy, endearing, crooked grin. She offered him a small smile, and he winked at her. "Make this good, sweet pea," he said softly, then scooted away to avoid Hunter's wrath.

She walked around to the coward's swollen, fucked asshole. Okay so yeah, this was kind of gross. But she'd never have this chance again, so she bucked up, took a big breath, and stuck the knife between her teeth while she undid her ponytail to release her hair tie. She knelt down, grasping the fucker's ugly scrotum. Maverick's panicked struggles rattled his restraints, but they held fast, and despite his efforts, she quickly applied the hair tie-slash-tourniquet to the base of his balls. She sat back for a few moments, waiting for Mav's struggles to die down some.

As soon as they did, Ivy brought the blade up with one hand while she grasped the pervert's testicles in the other, and with one smooth slice, Maverick was castrated.

His back arched up as he released a pained, slightly-muffled scream. Ivy shifted her grip on the knife and skewered his manhood, then stood up and walked back around to face him.

"Now, I know I told you I was going to shove these up your ass with a pair of salad tongs, but unfortunately, I don't have any on me at the moment." She leaned down to grip a corner of the duct tape covering his mouth and yanked it off in one hard pull. Maverick's scream was cut off when she shoved his own balls between his lips and toward the back of his throat, tugged the knife free, and slapped the piece of duct tape back over his mouth.

"What do you think, Mav? Is this a fair compromise?"

She gripped the fake blonde hair of the ruined tormenter. Brought her knee up into his face. Felt the crunch of bone, the warm gush of blood soaking her leggings. She jumped back, disgusted. Maverick dropped his head, blood dripping from his broken nose to the floor. She crouched back down, gripping his hair again, forcing him to look at her.

"Fuck. You. Fuck you, Maverick. Fuck you to death. Actually, I think that's exactly what's going to happen. And it's exactly what you fucking deserve."

She released his head to let him slump forward. Ivy stepped back, took a deep breath, and turned around. Hunter came forward, wrapping her up in his arms, leading her away, out of the room, out into the cool night. She looked up at the man enveloping her entirely, as if to protect her from anything and everything, using his own body as a shield. His face was impassive, but she knew he was angry with her. Oh yes, she would be hearing all about it later. He would fuck her senseless, so she would know who she belonged to. She wanted to roll her eyes at his over-the-top Alpha-ness, but right now, she was just grateful. She nuzzled into him, breathing in his intoxicating scent, letting it calm her rattled nerves.

"Thank you," she said quietly. When she looked up at him, she could have sworn she saw a flash of pride in his strange, tempest eyes.

....................................................

Hunter leaned against the far wall, watching the scene play out in front of him. He had known Ivy would try to come, despite his warning not to. He'd told Trevino to be prepared, and sure enough, shortly after they had started in on Maverick, Trevino had texted to inform him Ivy and Aella were on their way. The sniper had a man waiting nearby to watch the safehouse, made sure Eva and Cody were taken care of, and had raced to the picture-perfect suburban neighborhood to arrive there before the girls did.

Of course, Ivy wouldn't have accepted being denied entry. But Trevino was dead set against Aella being anywhere close to Maverick. Obviously, there was something serious going on between those two, but so far, Trevino had been unwilling to talk about it, and Hunter hadn't pressed him.

Ivy had handled herself well, and while he disapproved of the entire affair, it seemed to provide her with some closure. Of course, Pyle was halfway in love with her for castrating the prick, and talked for a solid twelve minutes about how good she would be at interrogation. He would have kept talking about it had Hunter not thrown a left hook the pilot just barely dodged.

Ivy's continued defiance both infuriated and thrilled him. Unsure of how to handle her blatant, repeated disobedience, he considered his options as he watched Pyle continue to work on the sorry excuse for an Alpha who had caused his mate such pain and anguish.

The thought of punishing Ivy, as many Alphas would do to their Omegas to ensure obedience and submission, had somehow become distasteful. He worried that in Ivy's case, it would do more harm than good, straining the pair-bond that had already suffered from their unwilling separation. While biologically, Omegas were considered the submissive, docile dynamic, Ivy presented a complex dichotomy. Raised by a Beta father who wanted her to be strong and independent, Ivy was willful and proud. She would never forgive him for forcing her to suffer through the humiliation of a traditional punishment.

At the same time, she had retained her Omega instincts, despite her father's attempt to drive it out of her. Her submissive side simmered just beneath the surface, and Hunter had found ways of coaxing it out of her. Perhaps he could find a way to use it to his advantage, without resorting to more conventional disciplinary techniques.

Maverick was an important step in this plan, but a fairly easy one. When they began going after Ivy's father, things would become much more dangerous, and a spirited joyride shared between two rebellious Omegas could turn into his worst nightmare.

He focused his attention back on what was happening in front of him. What Ivy had seen was just the beginning of a long, long night for Maverick. Pyle was one sick son of a bitch, and he was taking his time, tearing the guest of honor apart, piece by little piece. Maverick had stopped screaming a long time ago, his voice hoarse and his body exhausted. Fowler stood by, his thick arms crossed across his chest, watching Pyle work.

Pyle had just taken out the blow torch and was happily dancing around the mostly-dead Alpha, bringing him back to consciousness anytime Pyle saw him slipping away with a streak of flame crisscrossing his back.

The night had been satisfying. Hunter had exacted his revenge, had taken his pound of flesh. More than a few pounds, actually. It wouldn't be long now. Still, whatever torture they had inflicted onto Maverick's decrepit soul tonight, nothing could make up for the years of torment he had subjected innocent women and children to. Fresh anger bloomed and burned across Hunter's chest, making him wish they could bring him back, whole and alive, just to rip him apart, again and again.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at the time. 0503. They had better start wrapping up. A text message from Cole told him to call him back, immediately. His pulse sped up. Hunter found the doctor's contact and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hunter." Cole's thick, authoritative voice answered.

"Cole. You have news?"

"I do."

"And?" Hunter growled, impatient.

There was a pause on the other end. Hunter was gripping the phone so hard he thought it might crack. His pulse pounded in his ears.

"It's positive."