Lief's solitary appearance, far from acting as a deterrent, acted like gasoline.
The teenagers, with the adrenaline of Steve's torture still pumping hot through their veins, did not feel the slightest fear before his unnatural calm, on the contrary, they interpreted it as the paralysis of easy prey.
"Let's see what you're really made of now, hero."
Brett took a step forward, and pointed at Lief with the tip of his knife, whose steel was still dripping with Steve's blood.
"..."
Lief did not answer, he simply stood there, observing the group calmly.
However, to Brett's mind, that silence was wrongly interpreted as paralyzing terror.
"What's wrong? Did you forget how to talk?"
Speaking, he advanced two more steps, invading his personal space, gesturing with the blade mere inches from Lief's jacket.
"..."
Lief remained without moving a muscle in his face.
Slowly, with a deliberation that drew every gaze, he raised his right hand. He extended his index finger and raised his thumb, closing the other three fingers, forming the unmistakable figure of a pistol pointing directly between Brett's eyes.
The movement was so out of place, that the tense atmosphere froze for a microsecond of total confusion.
Immediately after, the tension broke, but not out of fear, but from an explosion of unbridled laughter.
"Hahaha! Is he a retard or what's wrong with him?"
"Look at him! Does he think he's in a movie? He's trying to scare us with his little finger!"
"Brett, I think the guy is sick in the head, he must be mentally retarded, don't waste time with him, stick the blade in him and let's get this over with!"
Brett joined the laughter, shaking his head in disbelief while lowering his guard.
"Imbecile, who the fuck do you think you are? Clint Eastwood?"
It was then that the corner of Lief's lips finally curled upward.
It wasn't a smile of amusement, there was no warmth in it.
It was a distant expression...
He moved the "pistol" toward Brett's hand, imitating the drop of a hammer, and his lips formed a single word.
"Bang"
!
At the exact instant the syllable finished sounding, a sonic boom, similar to the shot of a high-caliber sniper rifle, exploded out of nowhere.
The mocking smile on Brett's face was abruptly erased, replaced by confusion.
He felt an impact, but he didn't understand what had happened.
He lowered his head slowly to look at his right hand, the one that seconds before held the knife so firmly.
"..."
His brain took a moment to process the visual information, because what he saw made no sense.
The knife had fallen.
His hand no longer had shape. In fact, it was no longer a hand.
His entire palm, from the wrist up, seemed to have been detonated from the inside by an explosive charge: the carpal bones, muscles, tendons, and skin had burst, turning into an unrecognizable mass of minced meat.
Sharp bone splinters protruded from the torn flesh of the stump, while blood began to pump in rhythmic spurts.
"AHHH...!!!"
The acute pain, which had been delayed a full second due to the traumatic shock, swept through Brett's central nervous system like a tsunami of liquid fire.
He let out a harrowing scream, which didn't seem human, and collapsed.
He fell to his knees on the dirt, cradling his shattered wrist against his chest, rocking back and forth in an agony that clouded his vision, while his screams drowned out any other sound.
"..."
This scene of sudden, grotesque, and completely incomprehensible violence acted like an off switch for the gang's reality.
The cruel laughter that seconds before filled the place got stuck in their throats.
The disdain on their faces evaporated, replaced instantly by a mask of panic and absolute confusion.
What the hell had just happened?
There had been no muzzle flash from a firearm.
There was no smell of gunpowder.
There were no casings falling to the ground.
Nothing at all.
However, Brett's hand had detonated as if he had been holding a grenade.
And Lief didn't give them the luxury of processing the trauma.
His index finger, extended like a conductor of death, moved to the left, his next target.
"Bang."
The young man closest to him, a tall boy who had been about to lunge with clenched fists to defend Brett, didn't even see the attack coming.
!
The knee of his right leg, which was supporting all his weight at that moment, bent violently backward. The wet sound of ligaments tearing and the kneecap bursting resonated like a dry branch snapping.
"AAAAAHHH!!"
The boy collapsed instantly, falling to the ground and rolling frantically on the dirt, hugging his shattered leg while screaming in pure agony.
Panic erupted.
"Bang."
Another of the young men, with eyes bulging from terror, spun on his heels to flee, desperate to put distance between him and that monster. But as soon as his left foot touched the ground to push off, his ankle was pulverized.
The joint exploded into a mass of shredded flesh and ground bone.
The enormous inertia of his run did the rest, his body was thrown forward without control, crashing heavily face-first against the ground.
Lief didn't stop.
"Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang."
His fingers moved continuously, tracing invisible arcs and every movement accompanied by a silent detonation.
It was a massacre.
The teenagers saw, helpless, how their own bodies turned against them.
Wrists holding weapons, ankles trying to run, knees trying to stand... any joint that could offer movement or threat was systematically destroyed by projectiles they couldn't see.
In an instant, this corner of the forest transformed into a slaughterhouse.
The silence of nature was drowned out by a cacophony of miserable howls, cries, and heart-wrenching pleas that rose one after another toward the indifferent sky.
The air, previously fresh, filled with a dense and coppery smell of blood and the sour stench of human despair.
In less than ten seconds, the pack of wolves had turned into a heap of mutilated sheep. The six youths who had just been so arrogant, so sure of their power, were now nothing more than bloody figures writhing in the dust, incapacitated for life.
From the ground, amidst spasms of pain, they looked up at Lief and no longer saw him as prey, not even as a man.
They looked at him as if they were witnessing a dark being that had just come out of hell to judge them, with the deepest and most extreme fear written on their pale faces.
Brett raised his head. His eyes were full of tears and horror.
"D-Demon..." he roared with a trembling voice and sweat running down his forehead while he struggled not to faint. "You are a fucking monster!"
"..."
Lief slowly lowered his hand.
He began to walk toward Brett, step by step, without any hurry. His leather shoes stepped on the dry leaves and fallen branches with a rhythmic crunch, which struck their hearts like a final countdown.
He stopped in front of the fallen leader, looking down at him.
"Please, don't call me that. It's hypocritical…," said Lief with a faint smile, so calm that it was terrifying. "Besides... You like playing games about pain, right? Well, now it's my turn to roll the dice."
He shifted his gaze momentarily toward where Steve hung, unconscious and bleeding out.
Nodding, Lief raised his hand toward the rolls of leftover barbed wire that the boys had left scattered on the ground.
And under the attentive and terrified gaze of the mutilated youths, gravity seemed to invert.
The metal rolls began to vibrate and as if they were cobras waking from a slumber, the strands of wire uncoiled and floated in the air by themselves, twisting while they cut the wind, moving like snakes.
Absolute terror broke the paralysis.
"N-No... no! Please! I-I beg you!"
"Let us go! We're sorry! Oh God, we made a mistake! We won't do it ever again!"
The desperate pleas, the crying, and the babbling of regret intertwined, but Lief remained deaf to their wails. Mercy was a luxury that they had not offered, and he had no intention of gifting it to them now.
Swish
Six tentacles of barbed wire shot out and wrapped violently around the torsos, legs, and arms of the six, tightening instantly.
The rusty barbs pierced the clothing and embedded themselves deep into the flesh, bringing a new wave of acute pain that made them emit screams even more heart-wrenching than before.
Lief closed his fist.
!
Their bodies were dragged across the ground like dolls, lifted into the air, and slammed against the trunks of the nearby trees.
And with precision, the wire tied them firmly to the bark, immobilizing them in the same crucifixion posture they had forced Steve to adopt.
But he didn't kill them… That would have been too easy.
He simply left them hanging, feeling how the chill of life escaped them drop by drop. He left them feeling the intense and pulsating pain of their shattered joints, forced to contemplate the darkness of the forest and the infinite fear under the shadow of a slow death.
This was the true game about pain.
After making sure his work was complete, Lief walked toward Steve's body.
And with a movement of his fingers, he carefully untangled the wire that imprisoned the man.
Before Steve could fall to the ground, Lief held him, levitating him gently to carry him over his shoulder with care.
He turned around and began to walk slowly toward the exit of the forest, taking the survivor with him.
From start to finish, he didn't look back even once.
He ignored the sobs that were fading behind his back, leaving those six rotten souls alone with the consequences of their actions.
…
When he emerged from the darkness of the forest, carrying Steve's bloody body over his shoulder, time seemed to stop in the clearing.
Jennifer and Jenny, who were waiting by the motorcycle, stood stunned.
Jenny let out a scream and covered her mouth. Upon seeing the miserable state of her boyfriend, she collapsed onto the grass next to him, breaking down crying with a grief that split the soul.
"Steve... oh God, Steve..."
Lief set the body down with care, then, reached into his jacket and took out a handful of objects he had recovered from the gang's camp before leaving:
the cell phones, the leather wallets, and the set of car keys.
He handed them to Jenny, who was looking at him through a curtain of tears, trembling violently.
"Here."
Jenny took the phone with clumsy fingers, clinging to it like a life preserver.
Lief squatted down in front of her, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
"Listen to me well. Call 911 right now. Say there was an attack. If the ambulance arrives soon, he will survive. He's strong." His voice was calm, designed to cut through the panic.
He stood up, wiping his hands, and his gaze turned hard.
"And regarding those murderers..." he paused deliberately, making sure she understood the script. "They killed each other. They fought over the loot. Understood?"
"..."
Jenny was dazed. Her mind couldn't process the lie, but looking into those light blue eyes, calm and deep like the lake, her mind told her not to ask questions.
After a few seconds, she nodded weakly, dialing the emergency number.
Lief didn't waste any more time. His work was finished.
He turned toward Fenrir and mounted it with a jump. He looked at Jennifer and nodded.
"Let's go."
Jennifer didn't need to be told twice. She quickly climbed onto the back seat, settling against his back and hugging him tightly.
Lief turned the key.
Vroooom
Lief released the clutch and accelerated, kicking up a cloud of dust. The motorcycle shot out toward the road, speeding away from Eden Lake, leaving behind the paradise stained with blood and nightmares.
________
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