“We got him.”
I moved closer. “The Scorpion?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, eyes dark.
My stomach tightened. “Where is he?”
Macabre nodded toward the hangar. “Inside.”
“Well, what the hell are we doing out here, let’s go.”
I brushed past him, but he held me back. “I’m just gonna tell you right now, you’re not gonna like that scene in there.”
“Why?” I asked, my gut twisting.
Macabre sighed. “He’s just a fuckin’ kid.”
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Macabre led the way, the sound of rain hammering on the tin roof was loud as we stepped in. The air inside smelled like old fuel and blood. The kid sat tied to a metal chair in the center of the hangar floor, hands bound behind his back, soaked and shaking. Couldn’t have been older than seventeen. His cut was torn, the Scorpion patch half ripped off the back.
Jameson was leaning against a workbench, arms crossed, calm but cold. Hoax stood nearby, phone in hand, camera already rolling for record’s sake. Scorn stood in the shadows, silent as always, eyes sharp and unreadable.
The kid looked up when I walked in, eyes red and wide. “Please,” he croaked, voice raw. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He was young, too young to be stupid like this, but stupid’s cheap in their crew.
Jameson’s tone was all steel. “Then you should have thought twice before destroying Bastard property.”
“I didn’t fuck it up,” the kid pleaded, jerking against the zip ties. “I swear, man, I just… they told me it was part of my initiation. Said if I carved the mark, I’d get my patch.”
Hoax scoffed, “Yeah, and you thought that was a good fuckin’ idea?”
“I didn’t know it was one of yours!” the kid shouted, voice cracking. “They just said it was a witch’s place. That’s all!”
Jameson hung his head. “Stupid doesn’t even amount to what you are, kid. Don’t you know the French Quarter is Bastard territory? You fuck with one of them, you fuck with all of us.”
“I swear…I swear I didn’t know.”
I stepped closer, crouching in front of him. “You got a name?”
He hesitated. “J-Josh.”
“Josh,” I repeated, my voice low. “You got a roadname, Josh?”
“N-not yet. I don’t get one yet.”
I looked at Scorn who only shook his head. “You got any idea what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,Josh?”
I emphasized his name because it sounded so damn ridiculously innocent, that it was absurd.
“You don’t carve on our shit, you don’t step foot near the Quarter without permission, and you sure as hell don’t mess withher.”
He looked confused. “Who?”
“Grace Desdemone,” Jameson said flatly. “That shop you trashed? That’s her place. That’s our brother’s blood you touched.”
Josh swallowed hard, realizing just how deep he’d gone. “Look, man, like I said, I didn’t know…”
