Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)

Twisted Hate: Chapter 50



The great thing about having a morally questionable best friend was that they didn’t question you when you did morally questionable things.

Alex didn’t ask why I wanted to track Max down; he just did it. It took him less than an hour because, according to him, Max left a trail of digital crumbs so obvious a blind Luddite could’ve followed it.

When we found him hoovering drinks at a dive bar like an alcoholic Dyson, Max was already three sheets to the wind, and it took only the promise of more booze, drugs, and girls to lure him with us.

 I let Alex do the talking and took a separate car in case Max recognized me, but he was so drunk he didn’t notice anything was wrong until we entered a silent, secluded house on the city’s outskirts.

By then, it was too late.

“He must’ve really pissed you off.” Alex examined Max’s bound form the way a scientist would examine a particularly interesting specimen beneath a microscope. “This isn’t your usual style.”

I flexed my hands into fists.

Max sat tied to a chair in the middle of the basement, his mouth duct-taped shut and his body twisting in a futile struggle against his ties. His alcohol-induced haze had cleared, and I saw the stark reality of his situation reflected in his eyes.

Good.

I wanted him to feel every second of this.

“My usual style isn’t working for me.” The rage I’d suppressed during my work shift roared back, drowning out any reservations I might’ve had.

I was a doctor, not a fighter. I’d pledged to do no harm. But the Josh that made that pledge was different than the one in this room. Even memories of him were hazy, buried beneath the weight of the past week’s events.

I walked over to Max and ripped the tape off his mouth. I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing us. The house was Alex’s secret city hideaway, the place where he went when he needed to be alone but didn’t have time for a longer trip, and it was soundproofed and secured enough to make The Pentagon weep with envy.

“You recognize me.” It wasn’t a question.

Max’s awareness of my identity was obvious in the pinch of his mouth and the burning flame of panicked resentment in his eyes.

“Jules told me what you did. Ohio, the painting, the blackmail, everything.” I bent until we were at eye level. “You should’ve skipped town when you had the chance. Staying here was a stupid move. Pushing Jules down the stairs was even stupider.”

I saw Alex arch an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye. Otherwise, he didn’t react to the new information or mention of Jules.

“She deserved it.” Max didn’t deny my accusation like I’d expected. He must’ve known it wouldn’t do him any good. “The people who wanted the painting are pissed I lost it. They’re out for blood.” A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. “She fucked me over and thought she could walk away with no consequences. After everything I did for her when we were young. She had no job, no home, and I took her in. You think I want to stay in this fucking city? I can’t go back to Ohio, not without the painting. She deserved it!”

His voice rose with each word until spittle frothed at his mouth. His sour, whiskey-tinted breath clouded the air between us and made my stomach twist with disgust.

“That sounds like a personal problem. You get in bed with the wrong people, you pay the consequences. The only thing I care about…” I gripped his shoulder and dug my fingers into the pressure points until he squeaked with pain. “…is the fact you hurt her. That was a big mistake, Max.”

“Surprised you’re still taking her side after what she did,” Max panted. Malice mingled with the resentment in his eyes. “She hurt more than she helped by returning that painting to you. My friends will be coming for you next, and they’re not as nice as I am.”

I wasn’t a fucking idiot. I’d already took steps to mitigate that possibility, but Max didn’t need to know that.

“I wasn’t going to kill her. I just wanted to give her a scare. Rough her up a little, scare her into helping me again.” Max’s eyes darted around the room, searching for help that didn’t exist. “It’s not fair that she keeps getting away with what she did. I went to jail for something we both did while she went to a fancy school and made fancy friends. It’s not fair. She owes me!”

He sounded like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.

“She only got into that life because of you.” I clamped down harder on his shoulder. “Don’t act like you’re an innocent martyr.”

“So protective of her even after she lied and stole from you.” Max’s lip curled, his desire for a cheap shot outweighing any sense of self-preservation. “What is it? Is it the pussy? I remember it was pretty good, especially her first time when she bled all over my cock. There’s nothing like breaking in a virgin. But it’s probably worn out—”

His sentence cut off with a choked cry when I slammed my fist into his face.

Fury darkened the edges of my vision. The world narrowed until the only thing I could focus on was my fierce, all-consuming need to cause the man in front of me as much pain as possible.

But I wanted this to be a fair fight. That way, I could let loose without any guilt.

I held out a hand. Alex slid a knife into my open palm, and I slashed the ropes binding Max.

He lurched out of his chair, but he didn’t make it two steps before I hauled him back by his collar and punched him again.

The satisfying crunch of bone ripped through the air, followed by a howl of pain.

Max clutched his broken nose with one hand and swung at me with the other. I dodged his clumsy attempt with little effort, and I heard another crunch when my fist connected with his jaw.

My blood sang with exhilaration as the storm inside me finally found its release. Every punch, every spray of blood on my face loosened an inch of pressure in my chest.

The air crackled with unleashed violence, and soon, the snap of bone gave way to the wet sound of bloodied flesh.

Sweat and blood blurred my vision, but I kept going, fueled by mental images of Jules’s injuries and Max’s earlier taunts.

I didn’t want to do it. He was blackmailing me…

They pushed me when I tried to get away…

Is it the pussy? I remember it was pretty good, especially her first time when she bled all over my cock. 

A fresh wave of rage swept through me, and I punched Max hard enough that he collapsed onto the ground. His hands scrabbled against the floor as he tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere for him to escape.

“Please.” He gasped out a wet, gurgling plea. “Stop. Please…”

I barely heard him.

It wasn’t just Jules. It was Michael and Alex and every patient I lost in the ER. Every bottled-up hurt, disappointment, and frustration from the past few years. I unleashed it all on Max until his pleas died off and his body turned limp.

My heart thundered with adrenaline. I should’ve done this sooner. This was the outlet I needed.

I hauled my arm back for another blow, but firm hands closed around my biceps and pulled me back.

“Josh.” Alex’s voice splashed a cold bucket of water on the flames consuming me. “That’s enough.”

“Get off me,” I bit out. I strained against his hold, desperate for another fix. For more relief. “I’m not done.”

“Yes, you are. Keep going, and you’ll kill him.” Alex turned me around without releasing my arms and pinned me with a glare. “If that’s what you want, fine. But it’s not.”

“You don’t know that.” My ragged breaths echoed in the empty space.

The basement contained no furniture save for the chair, a table, an industrial sink, and a fridge. I didn’t want to think about what activities Alex usually conducted down here. Probably something similar to what I just did.

“I know you’re not the type of person who wants another’s death on your hands,” he said calmly. “You’re not a killer, Josh. Besides, look at him. You’ve made your point.”

I stared at the unconscious heap on the ground. Max’s face was a mangled mess of blood and pulp. Sticky dark liquid pooled around his body, and if it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of his chest, I would’ve thought he was already dead.

I did that. Me.

Alex hadn’t laid a finger on him.

My heart rate slowed the longer I stared at Max. The soft drip of the sink in the corner reminded me of the drip of blood, and I was suddenly hyperaware of the coppery liquid coating my face and clothes.

I’d beaten him half to death.

Bile rose in my throat.

I wrenched myself out of Alex’s grasp and stumbled to the sink, where I dry heaved until my throat was raw and moisture burned my eyes.

I hadn’t eaten since before my shift, so nothing came out, but that didn’t stop nausea from roiling my stomach.

What the fuck had I done?

Kidnapping. Assault and battery. Probably a dozen other crimes that would end my career if anyone found out.

I started off wanting to make Max pay for what he did to Jules and ended up using him as my human punching bag.

Fuck.

I turned on the tap and splashed water on my face, hoping to wash off the blood, but its stain remained even after the pinkish water ran clear in the steel basin.

When I finally lifted my head, my skin numb from the chill of the water, I saw Alex next to me. He leaned his hip against the counter with an unreadable expression. “Feel better?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rubbed a hand over my damp face and glanced at the still unconscious Max. My stomach lurched again. “What are we going to do about him?”

“Don’t worry. He won’t go to the police.” Alex walked over to him and nudged his prone form with disdain. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

True. Max was only a few months out of jail, and he’d already committed aggravated assault and was involved in a conspiracy to commit grand larceny. If the police looked into his background, he was fucked.

“And if he comes after us later?” I asked.

“Please. He’s a common thief trying to play in a league above his own.” Alex sounded unimpressed. “Plus, if what he said was true, he has enough problems to worry about without trying to take revenge on us. Whoever wants your hideous painting will keep him busy.”

“It’s not hideous,” I growled. “It’s unusual, and it’s worth a lot of money.”

I’d shopped the painting around after Jules’s confession. It was tainted with bad memories, and like Max said, the people after it would come after me if I held onto it. I was lucky they hadn’t already. I guess they didn’t trust Max enough to finish the job Jules started.

The only way to get Max’s mysterious “friends” off my back and not screw over the next owner was to sell it to someone no one would dare steal from.

I finally found a suitable buyer yesterday, and we were scheduled to sign the contract in two days, after he returned from a business trip.

I assumed whoever was tracking the piece would know I’d sold it, but just in case they didn’t, the buyer promised to publicize the sale.

“Enough about the painting. Even if Max won’t call the police, we can’t just leave him here.” If we did, he might very well die of blood loss, and Alex was right. I wasn’t a murderer. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died at my hands.

The urge to vomit returned. “He needs medical attention.”

Alex’s sigh contained multitudes of exasperation. “You and Ava. So driven by your consciences. No wonder you’re siblings,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll send someone to take care of him.”

“Take care of him as in…”

Another, deeper sigh. “As in medical attention, Josh. I’m not going to kill him. I barely know him.”

“Right.” With Alex, it was always best to double check.

At his suggestion, I rinsed off in the upstairs shower and changed into one of his spare outfits while he took care of the situation.

By the time I emerged, Max was already gone and Alex sat in the living room, scrolling through his phone.

“What the fuck? Do you have magical house elves or something?” I sank next to him on the couch.

I felt better after the shower. Not good, but better, though images of Max’s bloodied form would haunt me for a long while.

I swallowed the lump of guilt in my throat.

“No. I have a highly competent, highly paid team.” Alex didn’t look up from his phone. “Besides, you were in the shower for an hour. A geriatric grandmother could’ve taken care of Max in that time.”

“Bullshit. I was in there ten minutes, tops.”

“That’s not what the clock says.”

I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. He was right. It’d been over an hour since I jumped into the shower.

I mentally added loss of time awareness to the long list of shit I needed to worry about.

“I’m going crazy.” I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my forehead. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

I felt like a passenger who didn’t know their train had flown off the rails until they looked out the window and saw the ground rushing toward them.

One minute, I lived a charmed life—popular and accomplished, with a great family and great friends. The next, it all burst into flames until only ashes were left.

“If it’s about Max, don’t feel too bad. He’s a piece of shit, and he had it coming. But he’ll survive.” Alex slid a glance in my direction. “You never answered my question earlier. Do you feel better?”

I hated to admit it, but… “Yeah.”

The dark cloud that had stalked me for two years was still present, but it was lighter. More manageable.

“Good. Now explain Jules to me.”

“Jesus Christ.” I cracked my eyes open and glared at Alex. Renewed tension zipped down my spine and turned my muscles into stone. “There’s nothing to explain, but if you’re curious, she’s five-six with red hair, hazel eyes—”

“You almost beat a man to death because he hurt her,” Alex said. “Don’t insult me by pretending she doesn’t mean anything to you.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, regretting, not for the first time, my eighteen-year-old self’s decision to befriend the man sitting next to me.

Still, after keeping my relationship—my former relationship—with Jules secret for so long, it would be nice to talk about it with someone…even if said someone had the emotional range of a teaspoon.

“You promise not to tell Ava?” I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

“I promise not to bring it up, but if she asks me about it directly, I’ll tell her the truth.” Alex lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Sorry.”

I’ve never heard anyone sound less sorry in my life. But the chances of Ava asking about me and Jules were low; she still thought we hated each other.

After a long moment of deliberation, I explained the whole saga to Alex, starting with my and Jules’s clinic truce and ending with her visit to the ER.

When I finished, the pressure had resettled in my chest, and Alex stared at me with an uncharacteristic glint of disbelief in his eyes.

“What?”

“Ninety-nine percent of people in this world are idiots,” he said. “I regret to inform you that you’re one of them.”

My brows snapped together. “I’m convinced you don’t actually want to be my friend again.”

Where was the ass kissing? The flattery? He gave up his company and flew to fucking London for Ava, but I couldn’t get so much as a sympathetic that sucks, man? Talk about getting the short end of the grovel stick.

“I’ll send you flowers later if you’re that upset about it,” Alex said dryly. “But first, listen to yourself. You’re in love with Jules, for God knows what reason, and you’re upset she lied after she told you the truth?”

My shoulders tensed. “I’m not in love with her.”

“You almost killed someone for her.”

“So? You almost kill someone every day. It’s nothing special.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. You’re bad at it.” Alex flicked a piece of lint off his pants. “You say I don’t actually want to be your friend again? Then I’ll give you something you say you want so much. The truth.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re a stubborn fuck who’s too blind to see what’s right in front of you.”

My tension hardened into a migraine. “I changed my mind. I don’t want the truth.”

Alex continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Jules may have lied to you, but she also willingly told you the truth. If she kept her mouth shut, you probably would’ve never found out what she did. The only reason someone would make an unprompted confession like that is because they want a fresh start, and the only reason they’d want a fresh start when the relationship is already going well is because they realized something.”

Get. Out.

I lo—

Don’t you dare say it. I said, get out, Jules. Get the fuck out!

My heart slammed against my chest and bruised my ribcage with each painful thud.

“I don’t have to tell you what the realization is,” Alex said. “You’re smart enough to figure it out. But according to you, she didn’t tell you earlier because she was afraid of how you’d react. She didn’t think you’d take her side. Now, tell me. How did you react when she finally told you?”

The oxygen in the room thinned.

Forget painful. Every breath was downright excruciating.

“I’m not a big fan of Jules, but you are my best friend. I want you to be happy.” Alex’s face softened a smidge, but that didn’t blunt the harshness of his words. “You can’t be happy if you have your head buried so far in the sand you think you can just walk away and forget her. Take it from someone who tried to do the same once with someone I love. You’ll be miserable until you resolve the situation.”

I’d never heard Alex utter so many words in such a short time. I would’ve been more stunned had I not been busy replaying them in my mind.

She didn’t tell you earlier because she was afraid of how you’d react. Now, tell me. How did you react?

I tilted my head back and squeezed my eyes shut again. “Oh, fuck.

What the hell have I done?


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