Hansel 17

Hansel 17
Gretal

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I ignored the barrage of messages from my husband that flashed up on the screen the moment I switched it on. He was worried about me, mostly because he knew I was about to do something stupid. 

Except it wasn’t stupid. It was justice. Keeley deserved to be avenged, so did those other girls.

So did I. 

Swiping passed them, I clicked on the camera option, checking my face out. I looked good. My lips were ruby red and glossy, my lashes thick with mascara, my hair curled around my face in soft waves. I looked good enough to eat.

And I hoped Pope would think so as well. 

After all, if he didn’t take the bait then all of this was for nothing. He would fall for it though; I knew he would. Men like him always did. They thought they were superior. That they could take what they wanted without asking. 

And Pope wanted me. I had seen it in his eyes in the way he had looked at me. I had thought he was just being overly friendly, trying his luck a little. But I knew differently. He hadn’t been admiring me as a woman. He had been lusting after me as a victim. 

An hour talking to Keeley and I knew it was true. She had told me everything. Every gruesome, gory detail of Pope's attack on her body. How he had called her Gio’s little whore as he took her in every way. How she had fought him. 

How the asshole had said he would cut her open and fuck that hole as well. 

The things he had done to her, the things he wanted to do to her were indescribable. And he had mentioned my name. The original victim. And Gypsy as well. Gypsy and the others were safe. I had made sure of it. Even now, our little watcher would be driving them to the clubhouse. Keeley was with Gio. 

The head of The Family might not know the extent of her trauma but he would take care of her. He cared for her, so I had to believe he would do the right thing and let her go if she wanted to leave. 

The others were safe. Back with the men who loved and adored them. And me?

I glanced up at the squalid building in front of me. A nondescript motel on the outskirts of town. The place I had chosen to meet Pope. A place where the Savage Sons wouldn’t think to look. Or if they did, it would be too late. By the time they found me, it would all be over.

Because Keeley deserved for it to be over. She needed to know that he would never hurt her again. 

And the world needed to be rid of one more monster. 

A rap on my car window startled me. I jumped, the phone falling from my finger to land in the footwell. Leaving it between my feet, I turned to the shadow of the man outside my car door. His face was handsome, split open in a wide smile.

Looks could be deceiving. His smile was easy going. But I wasn't fooled.

Pope.

My friend. A man I had trusted. He grinned at me and all I could do was smile back with hate in my heart. He was nothing more than a rabid animal.

And like any rabid animal he needed to be put down. 

Taking a deep breath, I swung my body out of the car, a matching fake smile on my face as I lifted it for him to press his lips against my cheek. 

“Is everyone ok, Gretal? When you rang and said to meet you here, I thought…”

His eyes flicked down to the hand I rubbed against his chest and then back to my face. Pope arched an eyebrow in silent question. “What's going on?” He seemed genuinely confused and my smile deepened. 

Meeting his eyes, I ran my hand over his chest. “I wanted to see you alone, Pope. Is that bad?” I rubbed my hands under his cut, over his nipples. A cut he shouldn’t be wearing. A cut he had brought shame to. But somehow I hid my distaste. I needed him to believe me. And after years of being anyone who paid’s fuck toy I was good at pretending. I touched him like it was the only thing I had ever wanted to do.

And he fell for it. Just like I knew he would. 

“What are you saying, Gretal?” His big hands covered mine. His thumb swiped back and forth over the back of my hand. Even that small touch made me want to puke. But I would never let him see it. 

“I can't get you out of my mind, Pope. Ever since I saw you again. I know you are married but…”

“We are both married, Gretal.” He reminded me. “What would Hansel do if he knew you were here with me?”

I met his eyes unflinching. “But he doesn’t know, does he? No one needs to know. No one but us. It can be our little secret.” I cocked my head to the side; I already knew I had him. Pope's eyes darkened. Lust taking over any suspicions he had. “Something just between us.”

He licked at his lips like they were suddenly dry. “Yeah, it can be our secret, Gretal.”

He was calculating what he could do to me now he knew no one knew where I was. The beast under his smiling demeanour peered from beneath his lashes. Pope had every intention of making me his latest victim and I would make him believe that, right until the last minute. 

“No one knows you are here?”

“Of course not.”

His fingers curled around my hand, pulling me after him. “Then follow me, sweet, I'm going to make you feel things tonight, Gretal. I promise you. I'm going to make you…”

I drowned out his sickening words and followed after him. My head lowered demurely. I would make him think he had me. A willing victim right until I plunged my knife into his chest.



“Come here, Gretal.” 

The moment the door snapped shut behind us, his hands were sliding around my waist, pulling me towards him. I went without a fight. I needed to be close for this to work. It might turn my stomach to have him pressing against my stomach. But I rubbed against him anyway.

I could deal with his groping for a little while. Just long enough to secure him and get revenge for my friend. 

I stiffened without meaning to when his lips brushed the corner of my mouth.

“What's wrong?” He drew back slightly, searching my face. There was no true uncertainty in his eyes. He was playing at it. Pope thought he had control of this situation. He was a predator, a man who preyed on those who were weaker than him.

I wasn’t weaker. 

Not by a long shot.

“Nothing.” I stepped away, my fingers going to the hem of my tee. I dragged it above my head letting it fall to the floor. His eyes were drawn to my tits, just like I knew they would be. “I just think you have too many clothes on.”

“We can take our time, Gretal. I've been waiting to get you alone for years. Since I first heard your story from Hansel, I knew you would come to me for what you really needed.”

With a small shove, I pushed him down on the bed. He bounced once before I was clambering over him, my knees straddling his waist. “And what is it I need, Pope?”

“A man to treat you how you crave being treated.”

Pope was so mesmerized by my tits that he didn’t notice the handcuffs I had slipped from my back pocket until it was around his right wrist and snapping shut on the headboard. 

“And how do I want to be treated, Pope?”

His eyes were shining. He thought this was a game. 

“Like a whore. I’ve always seen it in you, Gretal. How you missed it. Being taken and used. I can help with that, you know…”

With practiced ease, I secured his other hand. And he still didn’t get it. The fool thought he was still in control. 

“You think I liked being a whore, Pope?”

I could feel that he did. The length of him pressed up against me showed how much.

“I don’t know, Gretal, it’s just the vibe you gave off. We can do it this way if you want, I don’t mind if you want to get a little rough with me, as long as I get to return the favour.”

He sickened me. 

“Would you like to hurt me Pope? Like you hurt Keeley?”

His eyes widened. “What the hell, Gretal? Why would I hurt Keeley?”

Finally his gaze settled on the small knife I held resting against my thigh. He stared for several long seconds before settling back on my face.

“Did you get off by telling her you were going to cut her open, Pope?” Idly, I fingered the knife. “You like cutting things, don’t you? So do I.” Snatching up the pocketknife, I ran it over the globe of my left breast until a fine line of blood appeared. 

It was like he was hypnotised. His lips parted. His breath came in pants.

“Do you get off on hurting women, Pope?” I asked again.

“I don’t know what that whore told you, Gretal, but she invited me back. She wanted it.”

My temper snapped. Was he really saying that to me? Me of all people. 

“Do I want it as well?”

“Well you are here on top of me, Gretal. Your husband is back home and you’re here with me. Knowing what I am, and what I have done, you are still here grinding against my cock like the hungry little whore you are.” All pretence of being a rational man left his face. And someone I didn’t even recognise looked back at me. Pope was a stranger. 

Had he always been this way? A real-life monster living in our midst. Had we just ignored the warning signs?

“I think you want me to hurt you, Gretal. I think even after all these years it's what you have been craving.” A slow sadistic smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “And I'm going to hurt you, Gretal, just as soon as I get out of these cuffs. And I will get out of them. When I do, the things I am going to do to your body will make being gang raped look like a picnic.”

He expected me to show fear. Instead, I snapped. The tip of my little knife pricked at the skin just beneath his Adam's apple. 

“You wouldn’t, Gretal, you don’t have it in you.”

Bending over him, I let my lips brush his ear and the first traces of fear tightened his features. “See, that's where you’re wrong, Pope. I might not get the pleasure out of it that you do, but yours won't be the first life I've taken.”