The Law of Retaliation Read online

  “Take this,” Ryan said.

  Alexa glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened as Ryan tossed a small leather case at her. She slipped and slid on the mud, but she was able to catch the case while keeping her balance. She scowled at Ryan—you asshole.

  Ryan asked, “You remember what I taught you, right?”

  Alexa pouted as she stared down at the case. It was a professional lock-pick set. She remembered Ryan's lessons about picking locks.

  She said, “Yeah. I remember.”

  “Good. We'll enter the house through the patio door. It's the easiest. Let's go.”

  The couple jogged into the forest with their heads and shoulders low, quiet like experienced burglars. Alexa followed Ryan's lead, hurtling into a world of uncertainty.

  Chapter Three

  A Home Invasion

  Ryan and Alexa stumbled out of the dense forest, slipping past a tree and a shrub. The couple emerged in the driveway of the palatial lake house. Ryan, unfazed by the affluence of the family, kept his head down as he ran towards the back of the house. Alexa, on the other hand, staggered upon spotting the log lake house. She had only ever seen the house in the photographs her husband captured during his surveillance.

  How much do you have to make in a year to afford a place like this?—she thought.

  The house stood two-stories tall, but it looked taller. Lights illuminated the long driveway at regular intervals. The light on the front porch was on—they were expecting company. Light poured out the windows on both floors, too. No one appeared to be moving inside of the house, though. At the back of the house, all of the lights were off.

  Standing near the back patio, Ryan beckoned to Alexa and loudly whispered, “Get over here!”

  Alexa shook her head as she snapped out of her trance. She crouched down and jogged towards her husband. The couple tiptoed onto the deck, lunging as they attempted to avoid the creaky floorboards. They slinked past the tables, chairs, and grill.

  Alexa stopped upon spotting the jacuzzi in the patio. The hot tub was covered with a gray vinyl lid. She could only imagine the nasty activities the thug and his family performed in the jacuzzi. The fact that a criminal owned such an expensive jacuzzi also disgusted her. He probably relaxed in that hot tub after each court date, she thought, we cried while he swam in our tears.

  Ryan tugged on Alexa's shoulder and said, “Pay attention. Unlock the door. I'll keep watch.”

  Alexa nodded. She quietly approached the back door. As she pulled the lock-pick set out of her pocket, she peeked through the windows beside the door. Through the window to the left, she could see a spacious room—the den. The den had a humongous flat-screen television, fancy sofas, and shelves brimming with novels. Through the window to the right, she could see the dining room. The table was long, seating at least twelve people. The room was nice, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Alexa knelt down in front of the door, ready to pick the pin-tumbler lock—an outdated lock. She inserted a tension wrench into the bottom plug. She carefully placed a bit of pressure on the wrench. Above the wrench, she shoved a rake with three ridges into the plug. She gently placed more pressure on the wrench as she moved the rake back-and-forth—as if she were raking leaves on an autumn day. With the movements, she was able to move the wrench.

  A click sound emerged as she bypassed the lock. She moved on to the next lock and repeated the process. In less than a minute, the locks were compromised and the door was unlocked.

  As Alexa wiped the sweat off her brow, Ryan whispered, “Good job. Follow me.”

  The young man slowly turned the knob, then he pushed the door open—inch-by-inch. He avoided the squeaky hinges. He held the door open and stepped aside, allowing his wife to enter the home. As soon as Alexa entered the house, he quietly closed the door. He didn't lock it, though.

  The couple stood in front of the door, waiting to see if they had been noticed. To their delight, they successfully invaded the house without alarming the homeowners.

  They glanced into the den to the left. The lights were off, but they could still see the expensive furniture and decorations. The lights were off in the dining room to their right, too. The family already ate their dinner. The scent of meatloaf and mashed potatoes lingered in the room. There was a hallway between the den and the dining room, directly ahead of the couple.

  Ryan glanced over at his wife. He held his index finger over his lips and nodded, communicating with the gestures—we can do this, just follow me. Alexa nodded in agreement. She reached into the duffel bag, then she pulled out a steel claw hammer with a rubber grip. The pair were ready to continue their sinister plans.

  Ryan and Alexa crept down the hall, walking with their shoulders and heels raised. They could hear the sound of firewood popping and crackling to their left. A flickering light illuminated the room to the left—dancing flames. They could see the front door directly ahead. The couple shared the same thought: if someone arrives now, we're dead.

  Ryan held his arm in front of Alexa, stopping her from moving forward. He held his index finger over his mouth, then he glanced up at the ceiling. A faint voice could be heard through the house. It was only one voice, though. They dismissed it as someone talking on the phone. They took one step forward, then they stopped. They took two steps in reverse upon hearing someone walking down a flight of stairs.

  A feminine voice accompanied the sound of the thudding footsteps. Their first theory was wrong. No one was talking on the phone on the second floor. No, a couple was home.

  Alexa leaned closer to Ryan's ear and whispered, “They're here...”

  Ryan nodded and mouthed: But, I don't hear the punk.

  The young man reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a heavy wrench. His arm was steady, his eyes were sharp—he was prepared to attack at a moment's notice. Alexa stood behind him every step of the way. She tightly clenched the hammer in her hand, ready to brawl to the death. They took another step forward, then they stopped—again.

  A woman walked past the hallway and entered the kitchen to the right, oblivious of the intruders in her home. Ryan and Alexa recognized the woman—Natalie Clark.

  Natalie appeared by Caden's side during the long and stressful court case, offering unwavering support for her violent son.

  Natalie was Caden's middle-aged mother. The woman was pushing forty, but she had a youthful glow. Her beach blonde hair was tied in a messy bun. In the lake house, living a carefree life, she lounged about in a blue bathrobe. Underneath the robe, she wore a matching silk nightgown. Her belly protruded a few inches forward. She was twenty weeks pregnant.

  The world worked in amazing ways. A child was taken from one set of parents and the parents of a killer were rewarded with another pregnancy. Life wasn't fair. Ryan and Alexa were in the lake house to make it fair, though.

  As she walked deeper into the kitchen, Natalie said, “It sounds good. I mean, if you can get it done, get it done. We can always use the new recruits, right? You can put those Fresh Cuts to work.”

  She continued to babble as she seemingly washed a dish. Ryan and Alexa didn't care about their conversation. They moved forward until they emerged from the hallway. They stopped upon spotting a man standing in front of the fireplace in the living room to their left. They recognized the man, too—Owen Clark.

  Like his wife, Owen showed relentless support for his son during the criminal case. He never showed any sincere sympathy or regret for his son's actions.

  The middle-aged man was tall and brawny. His slick black hair was combed back and his beard was wild. He wore a black tank top, flannel pajama bottoms, and house slippers. The thin shirt revealed his bulging biceps and broad shoulders. He could tear a man apart with his bare hands. The tank top also revealed the spider web tattoos on his elbows. The number '1488' was also tattooed on his shoulder.

  Ryan and Alexa glanced at each other and nodded. They knew what they had to do. Ryan entered the living room, Alexa walked into the kitchen. The
living room and the kitchen were seamlessly connected. They were only separated by the kitchen's bar. The living room had hardwood floors and the kitchen had linoleum tiles.

  Alexa breathed slowly through her nose as she shuffled her way through the kitchen, barely lifting her feet off of the floor. She kept her eyes locked on Natalie. The woman stood in front of the sink, her back to the intruder. She continued talking to her husband, but her words were muffled—a garble of indecipherable noise.

  As Alexa reached the kitchen island, Natalie turned around and spotted her. The pair stared at each other, shocked. Like two former lovers unexpectedly meeting at a wedding, the women froze in place. Time slowed to a snail's pace, a second felt like an hour.

  Natalie shrieked at the top of her lungs. Alexa rushed forward with the hammer over her head. She swung down and struck Natalie's forehead. Natalie collapsed on the kitchen floor, knocked out by the vicious blow.

  Upon hearing his wife's screech, Owen quickly turned around—worried. Startled, he hopped and gasped upon finding Ryan standing behind him. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, then he glanced over at the kitchen.

  Owen said, “I know you. Shit, I actually–”

  Before he could finish, Ryan lunged forward and swung the wrench at Owen. The wrench clanked as it collided with Owen's temple. Stiff like morning wood, Owen fell to his side. The floorboards rattled under his weight as he collided with the floor. The man twitched and groaned, but he wasn't going to stand up after such a powerful blow.

  The Clarks were successfully neutralized.

  As she approached the kitchen bar, Alexa asked, “What's next? What–”

  “Bring two dining chairs into the living room,” Ryan demanded as he dropped the duffel bag. He pointed at the ceiling and said, “I'm going to check if that bastard is home.”

  As Alexa ran towards the dining room, Ryan ran up the L-shaped stairs in the living room. He stopped as he reached the top. He found himself in a hallway. There were two doors to his right, two doors to his left, and one door at the end of the hall. All of the rooms were silent. Light didn't seep through the gaps under the doors, either.

  Ryan said, “Caden... Caden, are you home?”

  No one answered. It was safe to assume the young man wasn't home.

  Ryan returned to the living room. Alexa had already pushed some of the furniture aside. She placed two hardwood chairs towards the center of the room, both facing the fireplace. She dragged Natalie out of the kitchen as Ryan approached the duffel bag.

  Ryan tossed a roll of rope at Alexa and said, “Tie her up. Make it real tight. You don't want them to turn the tables on us.” He pulled another roll of rope out of the bag and said, “I'll handle the punk's dad.”

  Chapter Four

  Settling Business

  Owen slowly opened his eyes upon hearing his wife's grunting and groaning. His vision was blurred, but he could see two humanoid figures standing in front of him—dressed in black from head-to-toe. He could see the flames in the fireplace behind them, too. Tears dripped from his eyes as he blinked, but he wasn't crying out of pain. His eyes were just red and watery due to the beating.

  The man tried to stand, but he couldn't move. As his vision focused, he stared down at himself and examined his body. His arms were tied to the armrests, his stomach and chest were tied to the backrest, and his legs were tied to the legs of a dining chair. The rope was tight, cutting off circulation to his hands and feet.

  He glanced over to his right as he shuffled in his seat. His wife was also tied to a chair, but her stomach wasn't wrapped with the rope.

  Still disoriented, Owen glanced up at his captors and stuttered, “Wha–What did you... Shit, what did you do? You... You bastards...”

  He sneered in disgust as he examined the intruders. He recognized Ryan and Alexa from the court case. He tried to forget about them, but it was difficult. It wasn't because of guilt, though. He despised the couple since they nearly succeeded in getting his son imprisoned. They tainted his family name, too.

  Owen chuckled and shook his head, then he muttered, “Monster... You called my boy a 'monster' for months. You–You... You assassinated his character in front of thousands and thousands of people, then you do this? You should be ashamed of yourselves.” He glanced over at Alexa and said, “You sicken me. You hear me? My stomach turns at the mere sight of you, you dirty cunt.”

  Alexa grimaced, unamused by the man's vile response. She wasn't offended by his insults, she was just disgusted by his act. The man acted as if his son were murdered like their daughter. She glanced over at her husband and the couple locked eyes. She found some warmth and reassurance in Ryan's command and dedication.

  Owen asked, “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

  Ryan stepped forward. He punched Owen, landing a jab on his jaw. Owen's head flung back with the punch. The man didn't appear injured, though. Owen cracked a smile, blatantly mocking Ryan's weakness. Ryan gritted his teeth as he punched Owen—left, right, left, right. He struck him with all of his might, grunting and groaning as his knuckles clashed with the man's bloodied teeth.

  Yet, Owen kept an officious grin on his face. The punches caused a cut to form on his bottom lip and his gums oozed blood, but he remained unperturbed by the attack. Ryan stepped in reverse. He dug his fingers into his hair as he caught his breath. Although Owen cackled in front of him, he kept his composure.

  Ryan said, “We're asking the questions tonight. If you run your mouth without my permission, I'll cut your tongue off and feed it to your wife. Understood?”

  Owen stared at Ryan with a deadpan expression. He burst into a casual chuckle, shaking his head in amazement. He spat a blob of saliva and blood on the floor in front of Ryan. That was his only answer.

  Ryan nodded and said, “Introductions shouldn't be necessary. You've seen us a hundred times. Still, I want you to know us so you know we're not playing games—so you know we're not afraid. My name is Ryan Martin.”

  “My name is Alexa Martin,” Alexa said as she stepped closer to her husband.

  Ryan continued, “Two years ago, your son, Caden Clark, murdered our daughter, Lucia Martin.”

  “No,” Natalie said, drowsy and dizzy. She sniffled, then she said, “This is the problem with you people these days. You don't listen. You don't have any respect for the law. You create your own facts... Facts you get from fake news... Our son was not guilty. That case was dismissed. That's the end of it.”

  Alexa stepped forward, her eyes locked on Natalie. She stopped in front of the pregnant woman. She gently slapped her cheek, as if she were trying to awaken a child from a nap. She pulled her arm back over her shoulder, then she swung at Natalie, striking her with a powerful backhanded slap. The chair wobbled under her due to the sheer force of the slap.

  Natalie rapidly blinked, surprised. She hissed through her gritted teeth as she felt the stinging pain on her face. Alexa's fingers were imprinted on her cheeks—a rosy patch.

  Alexa said, “No. That was just the end of one chapter—one story. You see, this is a new one. Lucia's story...” She clenched her jaw and sniffled, fighting the urge to cry. She said, “Lucia's story was a story of tragedy. This is a story of vengeance.”

  Ryan said, “Let's not waste anyone's time. Let's get straight to the point. Where's your son? Where's Caden?”

  Owen shrugged and said, “I have no fucking idea. We're not the government, you see? We don't track his every movement.”

  “He's probably out there doing 'boy' stuff,” Natalie responded, still lethargic. She giggled, then she said, “I wouldn't be surprised if he was fucking some five-dollar hooker out there. That boy, he's growing up too fast...”

  “Stop fucking with me,” Ryan snapped, rage burning in his eyes. “If you don't cooperate, if you keep playing these damn games with us, you're going to force me to hurt you.”

  Owen and Natalie stared at each other with cold, hollow eyes—as if the potential danger had suddenly dawned onto them. Th
ey couldn't keep their facade afloat, though. They chuckled in the face of danger, snorting and cackling. The threat didn't bother them at all.

  Ryan and Alexa glanced at each other, shocked by their casual negligence. They figured they should have known better. Only other monsters could create a monster like Caden.

  Ryan paced in front of the chairs and said, “I don't want to hurt you. I will if I have to, but that wasn't part of the plan. I was perfectly happy leaving you tied up in a closet while we dealt with your boy. Your silence is getting in our way, though. You should understand something: I will do anything to find Caden.”

  Owen stopped laughing. He asked, “What do you want with Caden? Huh? You thinkin' about roughing him up? You going to give him a little scare? That would be pointless, son. He made a mistake. That's all.”

  “Someone has to pay for Lucia's death,” Ryan responded. He stopped in front of Owen. He gazed into the man's eyes and said, “And the price is death. We're going to kill Caden. Your son is going to die tonight. You can decide whether you want to die with him or not, but you don't have all day.”

  Owen became stern upon hearing the threats. He glanced over at his wife. The expression of confusion on his face screamed: you believe this motherfucker?

  He turned towards Ryan and said, “Now I'm definitely not telling you where he is, boy.”

  Ryan responded, “Now I'm definitely going to torture you.”

  ***

  As he riffled through the duffel bag, Ryan said, “These tools were meant for your son. I thought about buying a gun, but that wouldn't look good. The police would have suspected something, right? I mean, grieving parents buying a gun never looks good, does it? It doesn't matter anyway. A gun would have made it too easy. He can't die with a bullet to the head. Caden has to suffer for what he did.” He glanced over at the captives and said, “I'm going to torture the both of you, but I'm going to start with the 'man' of the house. You, Owen. I'm starting with you.”