Aces Kill Kings

Chapter Nine: Repercussions

Back at the mansion everyone was gathered at the doors, standing outside waiting for us. Diego, Landon and Harley had smiles and were laughing together as the others conversed. Amara was the first to notice our arrival. She lifted her head, looking at Marshall then to me and back again. When the others noticed us they grew quiet. Marshall clutched his arm as he walked into the group,

"Nevada, can I please get patched up?" Her eyes were wide as she ushered him into the mansion. Harold pushed his way forward as I stopped several feet from the group.

"Zane, what happened?!" His voice boomed.

I met his eyes drawing a rough breath, "Robert is dead."

"What?" Harley yelled at me. Tears clung to the corners of her eyes and lashes as she stepped back away from the others some.

"What happened? How did he die?" Harold came closer, the muscles in his arms tensing as he stopped just in front of me.

"Omen... he's alive..." The terror on Harold's face told me everything. He had no idea. He truly believed he was the last left of the old order. And he was so very wrong.

"No, he can't be."

"He is. He knows who I am. He knows exactly who I am. We followed a girl named Yvette and she led us into the trap for him. She shot myself and Robert with bird shot and it immobilized him some. Marshall got him up to get him out and was shot too. When they were both down was when Omen showed up."

"Is he still the same?"

"Yes..." Omen was exactly the same as the man who haunted my nightmares, lurked in the shadows of my room.

"And you didn't kill him tonight?"

"How am I supposed to kill an old order member? We know what they are. We know what they do, Harold. Even if it was one on one he would kill me!"

"You're being a coward, Zane."

"Because I want to survive?"

"Yes. You are meant to die, remember that. You are a fucking Ace. You are the lowest member. You are disposable. I don't care if Omen finds you and burns you alive like your mother. You accept the fate given to you." The hatred in his eyes burned my soul. How dare you. His hand reached out and grabbed my throat, squeezing tightly, trying to choke me.

"That's bullshit. You ran. Everyone ran, except me from that fucking place!" he gripped tighter, growling. My hands grasped his, prying at his fingers and tilting my head back slightly, trying to make room to breathe.

"Keep talking, Zane. I want to hear it." He was baiting me on but I didn't care.

"You ran away with Emilia. My father ran when he was left alone. My mother ran when you threatened her. All you guys did was run to survive. Fuck you and your hypocrisy!" I could feel the eyes on me in the crowd. Diego was frozen, completely shocked. Landon looked like he wanted to do something but couldn't bring himself to. Amara looked at the ground knowing what was probably coming.

"Do you want to die, Zane?"

"You won't fucking do it. You don't have a way to replace me. You don't have the ins I do." I gagged slightly as his grip got even tighter. I wheezed as the air hurt coming down my throat.

"As you remember I am an old order member too. I will kill you just like I used to."

"Harold," Emilia's voice wafted forward catching his attention. "Let go of him."

"No, he is going to learn again." the darkness in his eyes seemed to brighten at the thought of ending me, of punishing me. "I will make an example out of him yet again." Harold threw me flat on my back, knocking the air completely out of me but I still rolled to my side, trying to keep myself awake.

"These ones haven't seen you be broken. Is that what you want, Zane? To traumatize more people?" I heard some metal clink and suddenly the sting came. The belt he had on was now a weapon. It snapped down over my shoulders and back, but I refused to stay down. I managed to get onto my feet, avoiding a few of his strikes. "Don't make me break you again Zane."

"Then don't act like you expect me to be able to kill Omen! Don't expect me to be able to just forget the past!"

"Maybe I make you forget the past." He stopped and turned his back to me, looking at Martin and Jamison. "Take him in and chain him. I want him beat within an inch of his life at this point."

The boys did just that, dragging me as I kicked and struggled against them down the hall into the dungeon. I was placed into a pillory. I twisted and turned, jerking as violently as possible. When the boys left I calmed some. I did not regret my actions but I would pay for them. I always had unlike anyone else. 

What felt like hours later Harold and Emilia came in. I knew Emilia wouldn't allow Harold to kill me but it would come close. He stoked the fire for a short time, the heat radiating from behind me. There were no words exchanged, simple silence. The crack sounded just after the pain. The cracker and the fall of the bullwhip ripped into my back. As I bit my lip Emilia approached, forcing a wedged gag into my mouth and securing it. He was making an example of me. He wanted the others to hear. As the strikes continued so did my cries. With each impact my voice got more hoarse, more desperate, and louder. After several strikes, I felt the blood begin to run down my sides, at this point tears streaked my cheeks. My thrashing became more violent as he stopped with the whip. My body relaxed, the shock starting to go into effect as I had trouble keeping my feet under me. Heat, sudden and strong, radiated closer to me. I tried to look back but there was no way to do so. The long stick of red hot metal pressed against my back, I screamed. I couldn't catch my breath. The pain is so much different when being this helpless instead of purposely grabbing a hot iron. Both hurt but this hurt in a way that one could never be prepared for. He pressed the iron across my shoulders and my voice rose again. My jerking and screaming pleasured him, I'm sure of it. My legs began to give out as the heat dulled. Harold stepped back and Emilia pulled the gag from my lips, her fingers brushing across my tear stained cheeks. The metal hit the ground and they left me there, in throbbing pain so close to shock that I was afraid to allow my body to react to the pain radiating from me. 

Harold truly showed how much of an Old Order member he was when he was striking me. He knew how to make the pain linger. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew what these actions would do to the others of the suit.  But he did forget one thing. I was an Old Order member as well. Mine however was by blood. I was not chosen to be in the order I was born from it. The blood dripping from my back was what connected me to this Suit. That was something that he could never take out of me. No matter how much blood spilled from me I was the same as him, if not more. He would not break me the way he believed. I would survive, whether he wanted me to or not.