“It wasn’t supposed to be like that!” Duncan pleaded. “Please. Mickey. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry to everybody. I fucked up, I fucked up real bad.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?” Mickey was so angry that he was shaking.
“I didn’t know they were gonna hurt him! Please! You gotta believe me!”
Mickey could feel the traitorous sting of tears in his eyes, but he raised his guns once more to point them at Duncan. “I really want to. I really do…fuck!” His heart was breaking, and every breath felt like his chest was full of glass. “You stupid piece of shit! How can you be so fuckin’ stupid?”
“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Duncan suddenly exploded. “You were never my fuckin’ friend!”
Mickey flinched.
“You treated me like shit since the fuckin’ beginning!” Duncan roared. “You yelled at me and insulted me! Bossed me around like I’m some kinda idiot! Poor stupid Duncan, he can’t do shit right! He’s just a dumb little coward, huh? That’s what you really think of me, isn’t it? Do you remember that?”
“When I called you a coward? Yeah, I fuckin’ remember.” Mickey bared his teeth. “I take it all back. It takes some serious balls to stab your family in the back and get a helpless old man killed. You’re a real fuckin’ tough guy.”
“Fuck you, Mickey! Fuck all of you!” Duncan reached inside his coat.
“Duncan, don’t!”
Cold was standing between them, and Mickey didn’t have a clear shot at Duncan.
“I fuckin’ hate all of you!” Duncan grabbed Cold, pressing a gun against his temple. “But you, Cold, oh, you piece of shit! You’re gonna die if it’s the last fuckin’ thing I do!”
“Duncan!” Mickey shouted. “Don’t fuckin’ do this!”
“Let me go right now, Mr. Gill,” Cold growled, absolutely seething.
“Shut up!” Duncan roared. He slammed the muzzle of the gun against Cold’s head, his eyes wild as he ducked behind him and backed up against the wall. “All of you treated me like shit! All of you! Like I’m some kinda idiot! And you, Cold, with all your stupid plans! You were the fucking worst of all!”
“You’re not making it out of here alive,” Jules snarled. “You’re fuckin’ dead.”
Mickey circled slowly, his guns at the ready as he got into position. The flow of adrenaline was back, all of his senses buzzing until he could hear his own pulse in his ears. Duncan was trying to use Cold as a human shield, but Mickey only needed him to look up for a second, one quick second.
“Back the fuck up! Back up! Now!” Duncan screamed frantically. “I swear, I’ll kill him! I’ll fuckin’ do it! He fuckin’ dies! It’s all his fuckin’ fault! All of this!”
“Whatever happens,” Cold snarled, “Mr. Gill dies.”
“On it, Boss,” Jules growled.
“Duncan,” Mickey snapped, loud enough to get his attention. Their eyes met, and Mickey knew what he had to do. “I’m sorry.”
Mickey fired.
The gun in Duncan’s hand went flying and his head whipped back from the second shot. He dropped immediately.
Duncan was dead.
Cold grimaced at the spray of blood on his face, and he calmly pulled his handkerchief out again. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, we should leave soon. This area is not the best in the city, but someone may have heard our little party and might still call the authorities.”
Mickey lowered his guns, and he stared down at Duncan’s lifeless body. It looked strangely small compared to the dead Luchesi men nearby.
He should feel something.
Beyond the betrayal, Duncan was his friend once. There should be more. He should be sad, upset, but all he could be bothered with was a deep, cold rage.
The truth had been right in front of him this whole time, and he’d let himself be blind to it. Hell, he had even defended Duncan more than once. Mickey realized then that some of the anger wasn’t only for Duncan, but he was mad at himself too.
“I’m going to hug you now,” Roger whispered loudly. “Don’t shoot me.”
