The Ranch Ch. 11

The end of a long tale. Thanks to all for feedback, encouragement and suggestions. As per usual, a ton of gratitude to Rumpole for nudging this to completion.

Just a warning, this story has history. The first part is largely filled with violence and dark-natured villains. If you've disliked the style of previous chapters, I suggest you avoid this one. Otherwise, enjoy.

Peace.

*******

"They are right on our tails. And I mean right on us," Alex muttered furiously, still lamenting his earlier oversight.

The air around them was thick with a buzzing anxiety. Fighting to harness his panic, Alex urgently gestured the group to follow him.

The industrial shed's interior was huge, the size of a large warehouse. The dark area seemed enormous at night, vaguely illuminated by a dark, gloomy green coming through the translucent tin roofing.

Alex paused, hearing a faint sound outside. He pulled Katie close, with Mark and Cory bringing up the rear.

They all jumped when a door to their right briskly opened, and a blinding torch centred on Mark's face.

"Stop!" snarled a voice.

"Alex, take her. GO!" Cory shouted, shoving Katie forward. Alex caught her before they loudly fell behind a stack of crates.

Immediately staggering to his feet, Alex roughly dragged Katie away in the dark. At the same time, Mark stepped toward the open door to stand between Cory and the intruders.

"Wait, idiot!" another man exclaimed, and the flashlight rattled. "We need him alive!"

Finally his eyes adjusted, and Mark perceived three strangers. One held a torch and gun, another wrestled for the gun, and a third stood staring at them as though he was the one who'd been ambushed.

"Fucking hell, Frank!" Peter managed to get a hold of the weapon, and steadily pointed it at Mark and Cory.

"Now listen, Mark," Peter said, and Mark was quite surprised by the man's refined, sophisticated voice. He sounded more likely to host a tea party than point a gun at a civilian in the middle of the night.

"George wants you alive. Not Cory. You. If you care about your friend at all-"

"I'm supposed to trust you?" Mark growled.

"I haven't shot him, have I?" Peter levelly replied, and Frank shifted uncomfortably. He clicked his fingers at the third, startled man. "Cuff them."

"Er..." the man said nervously. "I didn't bring..."

"I said cuffs!" Peter's eyes widened with incredulous outrage.

"You said ties," the man answered defensively, a twinge of resentment in his voice.

Peter looked to Frank, who shrugged awkwardly. "This was Stanley's job."

"Then cable them," Peter spat, briskly shaking his head at his companions.

"I have rope," the man muttered.

"ROPE?!" Peter screamed, as his nerves surpassed breaking point. Mark took a mini-step closer.

"Don't fucking try it, Mark," Peter snapped, brandishing the gun. "George said 'alive' not 'unharmed'," he lied. "Don't make me cap your knees, and kill Cory."

After facing Mark's rather intimidating death-stare, he indignantly looked to his companions.

"Must I bloody-well do everything? Tie them up!"

"Figured you'd be better at it," Frank snidely muttered, fortunately too low for Peter to hear.

Under the pretence of cooperation, Mark folded his wrists behind his back and briskly turned to face Cory.

'Tense,' he mouthed. Cory stared, wondering if his friend had gone mad. Mark cast his eyes upwards and tried again.

'Tense!' he mouthed again. Scowling, he looked pointedly at his biceps, and slightly hunched for emphasis. Mark looked like he was impersonating a body builder in competition.

The lightbulb clicked, and Cory took a deep breath, expanding his chest and straining every muscle in his body, particularly his arms and wrists as they were bound.

"Didn't George say to kill the blondes?" the third man asked anxiously.

"He said 'when they are all together'. As you can see, some are missing," Peter snapped, struggling to maintain his composure.

Worried about things going awry, Peter was also nervously aware of the fate in store if he killed someone prematurely. Peter was by no means George's first assistant, and he'd already fucked up with the rope.

"We'll find them. They're here, somewhere," the other man argued, eyeing Mark and Cory's strong physiques with substantial trepidation.

"We might need hostages. The instructions are clear," Peter stubbornly shook his head.

Knowing it would do little to alleviate his fear, Peter was unable to stop glancing toward Mark and Cory, with a silent prayer they never got the upper hand.

"Where is George?" Frank asked.

"He..." Peter hesitated. "He'll be here. He's finalising something important."

**********

Rosa barely struggled against her binds, seized up with terror so powerful that she thought her heart might actually stop. She was uncomfortable confronting Cory and Mark in the beginning, but with current company, the character distinctions were very clear.

Now, she was again in the hands of two strangers, but with clearly sinister intentions. In hindsight, her experience with Samson now seemed like a peaceful park stroll.

"Well, here's an intrigue," Greg smiled, and Rosa felt goose bumps rise up her arms as she stared into the coldest brown eyes she'd ever seen.

"I don't know who she is," Dominique snapped, looking to the door impatiently. "But she's not what we came for. If we wait too long-"

"I did their tyres. They're not going anywhere," Greg said silkily, reaching to gently trace his knuckles down the side of Rosa's arm.

Petrified, she shrank back, but not before Greg caught her loathsome shiver from his touch. He loved the effect he had on women.

"You can't hurt me," Rosa blurted, frantically looking to Dom. "I'm his sister."

Rosa had little idea how true her words were. All she knew was that the time remaining before certain violence rapidly dwindled, and it was the first stupid thing that came to mind.

"What?" Dom smirked, impatience etched across his bruised features.

"Wait a minute," Greg narrowed his eyes at Rosa. "I would hold to my policy that you all look alike...but..." He frowned at his feet, thinking, then looked back to her speculatively.

"She's here, with them. I don't believe in this kind of coincidence."

Dom felt the breath leave him as he stared at the girl, wondering if his imagination played tricks as he began to see a resemblance. "She looks nothing like my father."

"No. But she looks like you," Greg said pointedly.

"But how-" Dom looked pained with confusion, but Greg interrupted him.

"You're right. Who cares?" he said with his horrible, macabre smile. "Knowing George, I wouldn't be surprised if he fathered a whole colony on the side. I'll deal with her."

"I'm a virgin!" Rosa cried with dread as Greg advanced. Dom flinched.

"No need to add incentive honey. I'm a sure thing," Greg whispered, his heart suddenly racing with anticipation.

"Stop. Don't do anything, yet," Dom said quietly, his anger fizzled by the reeling prospect he might have a sister.

It would be typical of his father to keep such a secret. Dom never knew his mother, only that she didn't want him. Throughout his childhood he'd cursed her for abandoning him to a man like George.

But by the time he'd reached adulthood he buried his weaknesses and succumbed to the man he had grown to become. He'd never questioned other possibilities or approached the sore topic of his maternal heritage. He never dared.

"What makes you think I'm still taking orders from you?" Greg sneered. "I hope she is your sister. That would make me feel a lot better about-"

Dom pulled out a gun. "We're outnumbered. I said wait."

Greg aggressively raised his chin, unafraid. "What are you gonna do with that?"

After a tense silence, Greg rolled his eyes. "Fine. I fucking hate being interrupted anyway." He turned his callous stare back to Rosa. "Later, I'm gonna take my time with you."

Rosa barely suppressed a whimper.

"Go pinpoint the others," Greg ordered, becoming exasperated when Dom didn't move. "Do you really think I'll trust you with a captive, after last time?"

"Don't do anything."

"No one will get to do fucking anything, if you stand here carrying on!" Greg snarled. "When they notice she's missing, they'll panic. Go."

Unconvinced, Dom looked hesitantly at Rosa before finally leaving.

"N-!" Rosa tried to scream, but Greg was on her, his hand cruelly gripping her jaw.

"Sh-shhhh..." he crooned, staring intently into her terrified eyes. "I haven't deflowered a virgin in a long time," he confided. "Do you know how it works?"

Rosa's eyes widened, silently begging him not to tell her. Greg roughly pulled her closer, breathing into her ear.

"First, I make sure you are very, very scared. So your soft, tender place is dry and tight," he said in a horrible whisper. "Then, you'll help my dick get nice and hard. Like concrete."

Rosa began to cry, and Greg paused to lick her face, enjoying her repulsed groan as his tongue slowly lapped up her tears.

"Then I slam inside you. I rip your hymen. I tear your insides. Trust me, you haven't known pain until that happens. And after you suck me clean..." he giggled, the high-pitched sound grated Rosa's ears. "I won't spoil any more surprises. But what comes after will make the start seem like pleasure."

Rosa was shaking to get away from Greg's awful proximity. Just being close to someone so soulless turned her stomach, and with his hand smothering her mouth she feared she might vomit and choke to death on it. Maybe it would be a blessing.

Greg paused thoughtfully. "You're pretty scared now. I'm conveniently excited. Maybe I should just pop you. There are other things I can break later, and it'll be nice to give you a little taste. Something to think about until we can really play."

Rosa tried to shake her head, but Greg's hold on her jaw was violently tight, his fingers painfully digging into her cheeks.

"From behind will split you nicely...but I wanna see your face when it happens," he grinned, his eyes flashed malevolently. "Trust me, nothing can imitate the perfect first seconds of a virgin being impaled."

Keeping one hand on her face, Greg frowned while the other blindly rummaged through his bag nearby.

"Aw, fuck," he irritably snapped, finally releasing Rosa's jaw to give full attention to his search.

With her mouth free, Rosa instantly screamed bloody murder, and Greg dealt her a sharp knock to the side of her head.

By the time she dizzily recovered, Rosa's next cry was silenced under a piece of gaffer.

"Great sound. You just made my dick even harder," Greg sighed, rising to his knees to undo his trousers.

**********

Alex clapped his hand over Katie's mouth and hauled her against him.

"Don't move," he sharply whispered.

Katie stood stiff as a board, heart thudding as fear coursed through her body. A moment later, she heard a quiet noise and saw the movement of a door gently opening. The shadow of a man crept across the property and hot panic flashed up her spine as she recognised Dom. She was thankful for Alex's steely hold. Without it, she would have collapsed.

They watched Dom lightly tread toward the main apartment and out of sight, the gun he carefully gripped with both hands glinting in the moonlight.

"We need their car. Or it's the forest," Alex muttered grimly, releasing Katie. "Stay here. If you hear anything bad, run into the woods. Don't hesitate. Understand?"

"But..." she pleaded, thinking of Mark and Cory. Alex seized her shoulders.

"Look, I know you never asked for this. But we're all here to help you. We made our choices. If you're caught, our sacrifices are for nothing. Do not try anything heroic." He shook her slightly. "Don't you dare, Katie. If danger comes, you run. Do it for them."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as Katie reluctantly nodded, and Alex stared at her strangely. Although he looked at her, his mind was clearly elsewhere, and Katie wondered what he thought of; if he had children, or a lover. She was fascinated by his physical resemblance to Cory and their stark personality differences, having clearly led different lives.

"Please, Katie. Don't let me die for nothing," Alex whispered.

Before Katie could reply, they both jumped as Rosa's shriek emitted from the door Dom exited.

Briskly pulling himself together, Alex cast a furtive glance around before sprinting across the yard.

**********

Greg contemplatively paused undoing his pants. "I'm losing touch," he murmured, slowly getting to his feet. "This is reckless. Sloppy. You'll have to wait, sweet thing. But fuck you got me going..." he shook his head angrily, his tacky blonde hair loosely following the movement.

"You're not important, like the other cunt," he jeered. Frustrated he couldn't immediately torture her, he lashed out with words.

"You're expendable. When I'm done, you'll have been begging to die for hours. Maybe days. Do you know how much blood is in a person?" he asked, his eyes spiteful.

"You'll find out. The heart can only pump so much. When you're beyond use...I'm going to dismember you here, here, here..." he pointed to various sections of her body.

"You're pretty cute. I might keep your head a while. I'm going to take you apart, wrap you in fancy plastic, and-" Greg raised his palms with a twisted smile. "Maybe I'll send a piece to your parents."

Rosa retched against the tape and shut her eyes tightly, breathing heavily through her nose and trying not to vomit. Greg was still talking, but his voice was slightly muffled as she began to faint.

"I've always wanted to do that, though the risk..." his voice seemed warbled as it floated about her ears. "But now I've kinda thrown caution to the wind...OUFFFFFF!!"

Rosa's opened startled eyes to see Greg no longer stood over her. He was on the floor, with Alex on top of him.

Greg was a predator with great physical endurance. But Alex was much taller, very strong and no stranger to an ugly fistfight.

"Okay, shithead," he panted, sitting on top of Greg, strangling him. "I need some car keys."

Greg struggled and almost threw him off. Alex was vaguely reminded of one drunken night he thought it'd be a good idea to climb on a mechanical bull.

After goggling at them for a stunned few seconds, Rosa wriggled toward Greg's bag, awkwardly reaching with both hands behind her, blindly feeling for something sharp.

"You!" Greg gurgled, his brown eyes bulging from lack of air but still glittering with malice as he recognised Alex from his stark resemblance to Cory. "I cut your cousin-! Urgh-!"

Alex was only half-listening, having just realised Greg's cock was hard and pants were undone. Thoroughly disgusted, Alex sharply increased pressure, tempted to snap the other man's neck.

"Where are the keys?" he demanded.

"I tied Cory down and drew nice, deep crosses on his manly chest," Greg managed to rasp, beginning to turn purple. "I dipped a finger and licked his blood..."

Alex's violent temper suddenly flared beyond control.

"Like a good finger, do you?" he said savagely, his good looks barely recognisable as his face twisted with rage.

Without a second thought, Alex roughly stabbed his thumb into Greg's left eye. Rosa jumped with fright when Greg shrieked hysterically, releasing Alex's wrists to blindly feel around his face as blood dripped down the side of his head.

"Do I have to ask again?" Alex snarled, pressing his thumb deeper into Greg's skull.

"Oh, you're gonna get it," Greg choked, sounding more driven than defeated.

Ceasing all struggle, his hands dropped away and he writhed under Alex, agitatedly running trembling hands down the sides of his torso, around his hips and thighs.

"Where are the keys?" Alex shouted, deciding to slowly cut Greg's throat when he was done.

"Here!" Greg roared.

Blood ran into his mouth as he bared his teeth and stabbed Alex's leg with a dart. Taking advantage of Alex's surprise, he surged upward and switched positions, seizing Alex's throat.

"An eye for an eye? Or two?" Greg panted, his fingers creeping up Alex's stunned face.

Quickly losing his senses, Alex glared with loathing and Greg smiled in return. Just as his thumbs brushed over Alex's lower eyelids, a scream ripped out of him. Shuddering, Greg's remaining eye gazed ahead with blank outrage.

Then he yelped again, and lurched forward. Finally his bloodied face drooped toward Alex, and Alex dimly felt something warm cascade down both sides of his waist.

"That little bitch!" Greg heaved, and collapsed on Alex's chest.

Directly behind him, Rosa angrily peeled the tape from her mouth with bloodied hands.

"Diablo!" she hissed though tears, unwittingly killing her father's murderer. With an effort she rolled Greg off Alex.

"Alex? Alex?" she whispered anxiously, kneeling beside him.

"Go...hide..." he mumbled, barely conscious.

"As if I would leave you!" Rosa gasped, offended.

Alex grumbled something that sounded a lot like "Women!" and relaxed against the ground.

Scrambling to his side, Rosa fearfully pressed two shaking fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse.

**********

As the minutes ticked by, Peter's perspiration increased until he was forced to continually brush his sleeve across his forehead to stop it running into his eyes.

With his gun back in both hands, Frank sat on a crate, intently watching Mark and Cory. The third man stood restlessly by the exit. Though supposedly guarding the door, he seemed more inclined to run out of it.

"Anything?" Frank asked for the umpteenth time as Peter tensely checked his phone.

"Did you hear something ring?" Peter snapped, angrily shoving the phone deep into his trousers.

"Look at the size of them," Frank gestured to Cory with the gun. "It's a mistake to keep him alive."

"You said you'd spare him if I cooperated," Mark barked. Despite expecting the betrayal, he fixed Pater with an angry stare.

"For as long as I needed your cooperation," Peter shrugged, but held up a hand as Frank pointed the gun at Cory. "Stop. We might need him."

Under the pretence of futilely straining against the bonds, both Mark and Cory had relaxed their bodily tension and were now gently working to get their hands free. Realising Cory was ahead of his own progress, Mark sought to distract the others.

"What does George want with me?"

Peter looked exasperated, wishing he knew the answer to the question that was causing a curiosity bordering on unbearable. "You will know when the time comes."

"You have no idea," Mark swiftly surmised. "The mystery is eating you alive."

"And I should gag you," Peter said acidly, inwardly conceding his captive was special, almost as uncannily perceptive as George.

Changing tack, Mark jerked his head to the shaking man by the door. "Who's that?"

"None of your business. Stop talking," Peter snarled, as the man looked to him imploringly.

There was something about Mark that made Peter very uncomfortable. He felt like a babysitter being humiliatingly outsmarted by his infant charge.

They all froze when Peter's phone chimed. He grimaced, fumbling in his pants so desperately he could hardly get a grip on his phone. Frowning at Peter's unusual clumsiness, Frank eagerly leaned forward as he answered.

"George? Hello? FRANK, FUCK!" Peter screamed as Cory launched from the ground in one swift movement.

The man guarding the door shrieked with fright and barrelled out the exit. The gun went off at the ceiling, before being knocked from Frank's hands and Cory repeatedly punched his already bruised face into unconsciousness.