God, that hurts. It hurts so fucking much that I’m looking at Kristen’s stunned face instead of freckles and the sun. It makes me wonder how the fuck I’m still standing.
A cough behind me. “You want this bat or not?”
“Yes,” I snap. I shove my card in, paying as quickly as possible before snatching the bat and stalking out without saying goodbye.
I stop at the sight of the truck.
Oscar and Jake lean against it, watching me. My throat tightens. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“Find my phone.” Oscar folds his arms. “Wonderful invention. What’s with the bat?”
I look up the street. From this angle, the setting sun makes the head of the statue glow like some sort of fucking halo. “It’s not staying there another fucking day.”
Like an itch under my skin, I focused on the bigger problems. On keeping Kenny alive. On paying for her care. On learning how to survive an existence that feels like a punishment every single day. On trying to build the blocks of a broken life.
You don’t focus on an itch when you’ve been hit by a fucking truck. But it doesn’t go away.
And today, I need to fucking hit something.
Jake’s eyes gleam. He moves to the back of the truck, digging around in his tools and coming up with an axe. “Hell yes. I’m in.”
We both look at Oscar. His mouth twists as he pushes up his glasses. “Obviously. Is there anything in your kit for me?”
Jake tosses him the axe by the handle. “Take that.”
When he reappears, we both stare at the sheer fucking length of the metal tool in his hands. He hefts it in his hands. “Electric trimmer. What’s the statue made from?”
“No idea.” We start walking, the three of us wielding fucking weapons. “You think we’ll get arrested for this?”
“Maybe,” Oscar says absently. He twists the axe. “Class one misdemeanour for wilful damage of public property. Prison time is a possibility, but community service seems more likely.”
“It’s not public. Charles owns this plot.” And I’d love to see him try to get us punished over this. If there’s one thing he cares about, it’s his image.
If he didn’t, life would be a hell of a lot different for all of us.
We spread out in front of it. My brother’s face –myfucking face – with its golden gilding, stares down. Impervious and haughty, as if he’s taunting us.
My throat turns to sawdust, as if my work at the construction site followed me here. My voice sounds hoarse. “Why didn’t wesee?”
“We did see,” Jake says quietly. His face is troubled when we turn. “You know we did. We didn’t see what he did to Kenny – who the fuckwould- but we knew something was wrong with Brett.”
“I thought it was… I don’t know. Growing pains, maybe. The challenge of growing into adulthood, of developing as an alpha. His dominance was always so fucking strong—,”
Because of what he was, I realize.Because he was feral.
“I should never have let him take her up there.” Regret sticks to me, cloying, threatening to drown me all over again. “I nearly said something. I stood in that doorway, and I didn’t want her to go. But I didn’t stop him.”
“None of us stopped him.” Oscar’s voice is low. “I was probably the only one who could have. And I didn’t stop him either, Theo. Keep some of that guilt for me.”
There’s plenty of guilt to share. But the rage that tightens my chest – that’s all for him. “I’d kill him if he was here.”
I’d bury him. Put him in the fucking ground and make him beg, and it wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t fix things.
But maybe it would help the pain.
Stepping up to the statue, I grip the bat in both hands before swinging back and letting it fly. It smashes into his arm, knocking off a chunk of white and gold.
We all look down, through the dust. Jake pokes it with the toe of his boot. “Plaster with gold leaf.”
