It wasn’t true, but nobody would waste their tears on these men either. They seemed to understand that nobody was coming to save them. After that, the laughter died.
The silence that followed was worse. Thick. Breathing. A silence that crawled over the concrete like some kind of living thing.
Enzo saw it then—the shift. Fear didn’t cleanse these men; itcorrodedthem. He hated himself for noticing the details: how Grant’s hands shook, how Caesar’s face went slack, how the stench of urine joined the reek of gasoline and metal. When Grant’s bladder let go, it wasn’t just shame, it was recognition. They finally understood this was real.
Seven watched, unnervingly calm. If not for the way his fingers wound through Enzo’s, white-knuckled, Enzo would’ve thought he was unaffected. His stillness was its own kind of violence, the quiet kind that meant he was done feeling anything for these losers.
The closer the men got to the top of the ramp, the closer Enzo’s brothers drifted to his side, both wide-eyed and reverent, watching with grim fascination. Felix leaned against the far wall, Zane tucked into his chest. August stood a few feet off, the detached expression of a man cataloging a crime scene, whileLucas thumbed a message into his phone like they weren’t all standing in hell. Jericho knelt near the machine, eyes fixed on the gears, more worried about the engineering than the execution.
Asa hit the button. The ramp groaned to life with a shriek that set Enzo’s teeth on edge. Metal grated against metal, echoing through the rafters, sharp as a scream from some final girl. The teeth caught the light, glinting like diamonds…or bones.
Avi was just about to pitch Grant forward when Asa barked, “Wait.”
Avi’s glare was so childish Enzo almost laughed, right until Asa produced a sleek metal lighter. The flame flared bright against his fingers. For one heartbeat, they all held their breath. Then he tossed it into the pit.
The explosion of fire hit them like a lungful of heat. Flames roared up, curling the air into shimmering waves. The smell of burning gasoline flooded the room, sweet, acrid, alive. Enzo’s lungs burned.
Zane whipped around and smacked Asa’s arm. “You moron! What if that pit had chemicals in it? You could’ve blown up the entire fucking building!”
Asa shrugged, the picture of unrepentant glee. “But it didn’t.” He flashed a grin. “Yay?”
“You’re an asshole,” Zane muttered, turning away. “I’m sleeping with Avi and Felix tonight.”
Asa caught him around the waist, hauling him off his feet. “Like hell, you are.”
“You don’t own me, Asa Mulvaney,” Zane said, though his smirk betrayed him.
Asa captured his mouth in a filthy kiss that had all of them looking anywhere but at the two of them. When he finally released him, he purred, “That’s where you’re wrong, Lois.”
Atticus groaned. “Can you two do your creepy flirting later? We’re on the clock.”
“I hate to admit it,” Felix said, rubbing a hand over his face, “but Freckles is right. Let’s finish this creepy game ofShoots and Laddersandgo home. These guys aren’t worth all this effort.”
Avi’s smile was the stuff of nightmares. “You’re right, kitten.”
He shoved Grant onto the ramp, the teeth catching on his flesh instantly. Grant screamed, and it was the worst sound Enzo had ever heard. Not because of the pitch, but because of what itdid.
It changed the air. For one still, suspended moment, everyone stopped. The flames hissed, the machine whined, and every eye turned toward the ramp whether they wanted to or not. They stared, not like killers but likewitnesses, watching something they could never unsee. Enzo’s stomach flipped, not from guilt but from the sick gravity of understanding: this wasn’t justice. It was inevitable.
Enzo tried to convince himself it was only a movie, that it wasn’t real. But you couldn’t smell the sharp stench of iron and urine when you were watching a horror movie, couldn’t hear the way someone’s flesh peeled away from muscle down to fracturing bone. Each man passed out from the pain about halfway down, only to erupt from the flames screaming when they hit the pool, their bodies jerking and writhing as their flesh charred like marshmallows over a fire.
The air shimmered with heat and was thick with smoke—the kind that crawled into your hair and stayed there. The smell of burning flesh was nauseating, not because it smelled bad, but because it was almost indistinguishable from any other cooking animal. Though burning hair would never smell like anything but hell.
Enzo’s hands tightened into fists around Seven’s until his knuckles turned white, and he felt like he didn’t breathe again until all three men were dead.
“Who’s cleaning this mess up?” Jericho finally asked, staring at the still-burning pool of liquid.
“Not us,” Zane and Felix said in unison. “We’re going to Dad’s. Avi and Asa can take clean-up since it was Avi’s bucket list item. We’ll just sleep there with the boys.”
When Avi made a disappointed sound, Felix shrugged. “It’s the least you could do for hijacking Seven’s kill.”
Avi looked a little sheepish when he turned to Seven. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay,” Seven said around a yawn. “Your dad’s gonna take out the donors and help the women and kids they kidnapped. I kind of owed you one.” He curled up against Enzo’s chest, a jaw-cracking yawn splitting his face. “But don’t forget to mark it off your bucket list. I know there’s a hard copy somewhere.”
“Why don’t we drop the boys at your mother’s house?” Atticus said to Enzo. “It’s on our way home anyway, and I know you want to have Seven seen at the hospital.”
“What’ll you tell them about…that?” Ansel asked, pointing at Seven’s battered face.
