I had been watching this bastard for some time now, at least three months. I knew he raped her, I knew he had raped my kid sister. And I knew he was going to do it again to the sixteen-year-old living across the street from where I was parked. My small black sports car wasn’t that hard to notice, but seeing as how the lady whose house I was parked in front of partied a lot it looked as if I was just another guest who frequently visited. The same went for the bastard cougar that had been driving up and down the block, scouting out the place.

He was a smart bastard, doing his homework well. By now he would have known that daddy wasn’t home on the weekends because he had business to take care of, usually out of town. He would also know that mommy went out on Saturday afternoons to spend time at the local CDC, Children with Disabilities Center. She would be gone for a while, at least three hours, plenty of time for what he usually did. No, this would be his last one. He wouldn’t get very far in this one, the .45 SOCOM in my hand would see to that. If it came to it, so would my teeth.

The cougar was Mahara, a psychopath who had gotten out on his incredible ability to act sane and cured. The fucker wasn’t cured; he was just hungrier for fresh meat. He had chosen my sister as his fourth target, at least his fourth confirmed target. Confirmed by who? Me. I had done my homework too and traced a long list of women he had raped and ruined before. Most of them were high schoolers, mostly fifteen or sixteen. He liked them young, the sick fuck, and preferred them to still be virgins. The piece of shit got his kicks like that, scaring them into submission, then humiliating them. He would assert his dominance through humiliation and threats, usually taking photographs and saying he would send them out. He was slick, took hell to get his victims to talk. Even my sister wouldn’t tell me until I realized she was pregnant. That ruined her life and she soon took it after giving birth. Her son was now mine and I prayed that I would never have to explain all this to him.

It was getting dark now and the rave was starting inside. I got out, my black trench coat falling to my feet, my loose black jeans held up by a thick Marine Corps pistol belt, my holster attached and hidden under the jacket to it. I rubbed my eyes and walked into the house, the stench of cannabis and other drugs killing off my sense of smell. How could the other beasts stand this shit? I had the patience and stamina for it though; it came with the territory of having the blood of a wolf in you. I would wait here until tomorrow. He wouldn’t dare strike tonight when mom and dad were home, especially if he knew that daddy had a large .357 magnum tucked under his pillow. Maybe it would be best if he didn’t know though; he might use it against her if he did…

Morning fell and I awoke at dawn in my car again, a new change of clothes now and another black leather trench coat. I had traveled a lot, my home being my car. I had chased down Mahara and he would be mine. I would avenge my sister; I swore it on her grave. I knew she heard me, I could feel it. She would finally be able to rest after this one deed, and so would the many others.

Mahara parked his car at the end of the block and crept most of the way into her yard. Now was my time to move. I knew he would come in through the large French windows from the side into the living room. I knew that he would start his work from there and move upwards to the bedroom. I couldn’t let him get that far, I wouldn’t let him hurt another that much. I wouldn’t let him touch her, not if I could help it.

One side of the house had the large French windows, as did the other. The back had the cellar entrance, where I came in. Quickly through the maze of old belongings, effortlessly making no noise, and up the stairs, through the door, and into the kitchen. She had just left, barely missing me. The gods were looking down on me, smiling. If they weren’t my entire plan would have been destroyed by coming in a second too early. Then I heard her scream, which was followed by a sharp crack of Mahara’s paw slapping her across the face. I attached the silencer to my gun and quickly went around the other entrance to the living room. If I had planned this out right, I would be facing his back and he would have no idea that I was there. I had covered my scent up nicely with a few convenient chemicals that my friend had made for me so he would have now idea that I was behind him; thank the gods for having connections with pharmaceutical companies.

Screaming followed yelling and another slap. Nothing would escape the house, she was too frightened to scream that loud and he was too skilled to let his temper rise that quickly. He was holding her by her collar, staring strait at her. Good, he was also blocking her from seeing me. I raised my pistol, following down his neck, tracing his spine to between his shoulder blades. A simple squeeze of the trigger, the gentle puff of the bullet leaving the barrel, the sound of an empty shell hitting the floor, followed by another puff. There was no exit wound, having used low velocity hollow point rounds. The bullets spread and tore through his spine, killing him in seconds. His body jerked from the impact and the sudden shock then crumpled to the ground; first to his knees then over onto his side, blood draining out of the two holes placed neatly in his back. She was too terrified to realize what had happened until after I touched her.

Her reaction was as I thought it would have been. She jumped back and almost screamed bloody murder, which would have been very appropriate for the situation, and started shaking violently. I holstered my sidearm and held her close to me, cooing consoling words into her ears. Her shirt had been ripped down to her pleated skirt, she had obviously struggled. I rubbed her back lightly, trying to calm her. After giving a quick injection with a sedative I had on me I let her rest on the couch as I began to clean up the mess I had left behind. All the prints on the pistol had been cleaned off. The gloves I had worn ensured there would be no prints on anything I touched and the facemask I had worn would ensure that she would not be able to describe me well enough to find me. I called for police to come and left them a note telling them that he was a convicted sex offender and he had been caught in a second act. They would look for me but they would never find me.

It had been a year since that now and I had come back to check up on my work. She was doing all right from what I could see, her grades ok, plenty of friends, and a healthy relationship with a new boyfriend. She would be fine eventually. I checked up on her boyfriend and found out that he was a good kid. Played on the local football team and had his heart set on the Air force Academy down in Colorado springs. She would do fine with him, I’m sure. As for her parents, daddy was home a lot more and mom was too. They were more protective than a mother hen but still gave her the space she needed. I drove out of town, smiling to myself. Soon I would be back to raising my son. But first I had to take care of a few people on a growing list. Someone once said, “Victims, aren’t we all?” I’ve never heard words so true…