I’ve played right into Michael’s hands.
My mind whirs to assess the damage. I see Carlisle holding Lance and a few others at gunpoint, and my stomach sinks. The real purpose of the meeting wasn’t to mend fences and make amends. The only reason we were lured here is to tear each other limb from limb.
I have a sinking feeling this whole fiasco was orchestrated by Michael and Lance, with the full support of their families.
The Fitzpatricks and Everetts aren’t just hoping to strong-arm us into submission.
They won’t even give us the courtesy of engaging in a direct war, not with how we outmaneuver and outgun them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was set up to make sure everyone sees you spiral.
I’ve enabled them to thin out the herd.
After today, anyone who survives won’t want to side with the Paynes once word spreads of how quickly the meeting got out of hand, and how we instigated it.
I swing back to Michael with a growl. “This isn’t over.”
Michael laughs. “Isn’t it?”
I release him, and he crumples to the floor. “Get up, you pathetic son of a bitch. The only way you’re going to win this is by having other people do your dirty work. You can’t even take me on. I wonder what your father thinks of the coward he raised.”
Michael snarls and throws himself at me.
We spin in a half-circle, and I throw another punch in Michael’s side.
There’s a flash of silver as he whips a knife out and swipes at me.
He slashes me across the side, and as I watch a few drops of blood stain the hardwood floor beneath me, something in me snaps. I growl and throw myself at Michael again. Only this time, I throw punch after punch and don’t hold back.
His face is a bloody pulp, but it’s not enough.
I keep seeing London’s face when I saved her. Each blow feels better than the last, but it doesn’t quiet the roaring in my ears.
After days of quiet planning and thinking, it feels good to take my anger out in its rightful place.
I have no idea how long I stay on top of Michael, but my knuckles are raw and throbbing when a pair of arms wrap around me and yank me back. I twist to shove the person away,but stop short when I realize it’s my father. He glances past me and gives me a pointed look when I look back again.
Sirens slice through the air in the distance, forcing several people to their feet.
Everyone glances around, and no one says anything.
“I’d suggest we all leave while we can. Our friends in blue can’t overlook this.” Jack’s tone is calm and even. “We can deal with this later.”
There’s a chorus of grumbles and shoving as the sirens move closer.
Then, we race out the back door with Carlisle and a few others on our heels.
We throw ourselves into the black car at the end of the alley as it peels away from the curb. I take out a napkin to wipe my hands and exhale sharply. Once we’re far enough away, Jack takes his gun out and points it at me.
My heart skips a beat. “Another repeat of earlier? Aren’t you getting tired of—"
Using the butt of his gun, he strikes the side of my head, sending a sharp slice of pain through me and cutting off the rest of my sentence. I glare at him through narrowed eyes as he draws his hand back and strikes me again, hard enough to make stars break out in my vision.
When he draws back a third time, I move my hands to stop him.
His eyes widen.
Jack flexes his fingers and moves closer. “I should take care of you myself. Since you’ve been such a liability.”
