Taboo: Bittersweet Revenge (Sequel)

Knocking on Hell's door

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Cold hard steel felt foreign against my bare wrists. The constant crackling of the chain link dancing in mid air as Im being dragged out by half a dozen Interpol officers. The entire courtyard filled with Interpol swat car, stopped for a brief moment when I emerged. The look on my face just as telling as theirs. The level of rage I was harboring towards Karen reached all new heights. After all of that foreshadowing, all that teasing about turning on us, I didn't expect double-cross in this form, nor did I understand why.

Red and blue sirens rotating their lights through my eyes, momentarily blinding me. I glance back to observe my one and only son being held my his father, his little face turned away from the sight of his dead beat mother being dragged towards a police vehicle. As a mother, you never want that sight engrained in your child's mind. Especially a child with already so much potential.

At that moment, the weight of that decision final dawned on me. Yes, I sent a powerful message, but what Styles sent would've hurt more than words. It would've separated me from Raeven, from Christian.

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The cold bench brushes up against my skin, far from the warmth I felt from Christian's touch. Shackles binding my ankles together, and cuffs a bind my wrists together, I couldn't help but know that Styles must be feeling a hell of a lot better knowing where I was, sitting in a rotting prison cell.

I see the detective sitting across the bench from me, but just as I had for the past 2 hours, I ignore his questioning. I had all this pent up rage that I letting consume me, waiting for the time; the right person; to unleash it on. And that person was nothing more than the scum that lived off rotting flesh, otherwise known Karen Slater.

My rage was all bottled up, but not buried deep. It lingers below the surface, and it's ready to come out the second I lay on her again. I will rip her throat out and watch her gasp for air and bleed to death at feet, and even that wont be satisfying enough for me.

And after hours of silence, being hauled on a plane to an Atlanta high security penitentiary, I was in no mood for talking with a state attorney, nor the prosecutor. My mind was so focused on pure rage, I couldn't remember a damn question these detectives asked.

"I don't think you understand the severity of these crimes. You're looking at the death penalty if found guilty...", one detective yaps on. But I couldn't give a damn.

Moments past slowly as I look up directly at the prosecutor. Remaining my relaxed position, I let the old bastard know exactly what I felt like saying to him. I usher for him to come closer and I lean toward. He Wat's in anticipation. I've been silent this entire time and he thinks he's finally broken me down.

"Get out", whispered, as dry and emotionless as I could. I watch the hope drain from his face and I slid out of my chair with a sick smile on my face and headed for the guarded door.

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Viciously thrown into the cell like a piece of meat, the door slams shut before my very eyes, and it's not long before the smell of the infested cell seeps into my nose. Still, I didn't let that deter my confidence and desire for ripping apart that bitch for doing this. She knew exactly what she was going the entire time. But man, I thought her back stab would come much more 'in my face'. Instead, she does the next best thing and send my ass to a state penitentiary so she could....do whatever the hell she wanted to.

Rubbing my wrists, I lay down the torn up mattress and stare up ceiling, leaking slight droplets of water towards the center of the cell. "Don't get too cozy, Pierce! Looks like more detectives want to take your ass for a spin. I know I'd love to", he grins wickedly, his brown eyes roaming my body.