When the smaller boat leaves, the engine of the Galeon stops. The yacht rocks on the water, adding to my already queasy stomach. Petrov and Novotny reappear with the Titan’s assistant coach, and I recognize the fucker from our games.
The man’s face is already swollen, bruised, and bleeding. Seeing him, gagged, arms tied behind him, nearly sends me into a frenzy. Everything pulsates as if each cell is beating in time with my heart. Even my ears are ringing.
Mr. Reed comes down, his black suit impeccable, hair slicked back. He shoves the assistant coach to the floor and kicks him in the face. The man falls onto his back, groaning, but his eyes narrow, full of pure hatred.
I’d be scared to death if I was in that position, and it pisses me off he isn’t, as if he has no regret for what he did, no fear of the consequences.
Petrov reaches down and lifts the man by his collar off the ground to his feet and drags him over to the stern platform. “Time’s almost up.”
Knight appears by my side and holds out a knife. “We had our fun already. Your turn. Just don’t kill him.”
“And don’t make him bleed too much. I want him conscious as he’s eaten alive,” Mr. Reed says, his tone menacing.
Now I get it. The chum. The fins. They’re sharks. And this homophobic fuck is about to be their dinner.
My hands are shaking as I take the knife but not from fear. I’ll have no regrets once I’m done. Petrov and Walsh hold the motherfucker as I step forward, tightly gripping the hilt. Each breath comes out ragged, yet I do my best to stay calm even though I want to gut this fuck.
I look right into his eyes as I slice his cheek, deciding to keep all my cuts to his face. “Jackson’s mine, and you tried to take him from me.”
Another slice across his other cheek. “But you failed. He’s tougher, stronger than you’ll ever be, you piece of shit.”
One slice across his forehead.
“You won’t get a chance to try again or hurt another person.”
This time I buck-fifty his face on both sides from the corners of his mouth to his ears.
Mr. Reed places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, pulling me back until he’s standing in front of the assistant coach. Walsh takes the gag off and the man spits in Mr. Reed’s face. “Too bad that faggot son of yours is still breathing. You ruined my sister, my family.”
Jackson’s father remains calm, wiping the saliva from his cheek as if it were just a speck of dirt. “I will always carry the guilt of what happened with your sister. But my son . . . You’re a fucking pussy. You should’ve come after me.”
The man sneers. “I did, only you were too stupid to figure it out.”
“No one, for any reason, touches my family.” Mr. Reed looks the man dead in his eyes. “And just so you know, God’s out to lunch so scream, bitch.”
He push-kicks the guy overboard.
It doesn’t take long for the screaming to start. With his hands still bound, he can’t even try to get back on board. Two finsbreach the water and the next second the asshole gets dragged under, then resurfaces.
It’s a feeding frenzy.
We all watch the motherfucker until the screams stop and he gets dragged under for good. Everyone’s face is a blanket of calm coldness. Not sure if mine is, especially since I’m a bundle of nerves, needing to get to Jackson.
But the rest of them—Jackson’s father included—look like regal, ruthless, stone-cold kings.
Mr. Reed turns to me. “Let this be a warning. Hurt my son and you’re next.”
“Should we just push him over now?” We all stare at Novotny, who only shrugs. “Well, they beat each other up constantly, and you said—”
“Shut it, you idiot.” Alexei slaps his cousin upside the head.
I look back to Jackson’s father. “I’d burn the goddamn world to make sure there isn’t another soul who thinks they can hurt him.”
Petrov laughs. “You know, you’re sounding more and more like a Titan.”
Ignoring him, my shoulders sag as I stare at Jackson’s father, my bottom lip trembling. “Can I go see Jackson now? Please?”
His father nods, then returns to the top deck. Moments later, we’re heading back to the marina. Can’t say we’re calm, but we’re all definitely quiet. Even Novotny.
