“I’m not fucking around.” I aim the Glock at his other knee. “I expect answers. Now.”
He offers up nothing except ragged breaths and whimpers of pain.
So I pull the trigger.
The second kneecap explodes in another gory spray of blood. His scream is so loud birds take flight from the power lines overhead, scattering into the sky like they’re seeking refuge.
He’s started sobbing, snot and tears mixing on his face. But I don’t feel shit for him. Not an ounce of pity or mercy.
Nothing but cold, cruel fury.
I take aim at his forehead next, standing over him like an executioner. “I’m not gonna ask you again. You tell me who the fuck sent you after me, or I blow your fucking brains out on the third bullet. You hear me?”
“Okay! Okay!” He’s blubbering, the words tumbling out between desperate cries. “Please don’t kill me… please… it… it was Wheels! Wheels sent me! It was my initiation mission, man, I swear! I don’t even know who you are or why he wants you dead. I was just told to follow you and… and shoot at your girlfriend. Just a warning, not to kill. I swear to god, man, please?—”
“Shut the fuck up with your begging!” I roar over him, finger hovering over the trigger. “You think I’m about to feel sorry for you after the shit you’ve pulled?”
“Silver, check his phone!”
The voice comes from behind me, so sudden I momentarily forget about the violent rage coursing through me.
I glance over my shoulder to find Solana standing a couple feet back. She’s gotten out of the truck despite my orders, her arms wrapped around herself, blood still trickling from her ear.
But her eyes aren’t glassy and fearful anymore.
They’re sharp.Focused.
“You should check his phone,” she repeats. “For evidence. He probably has all sorts of texts and calls that’ll tell you more.”
I stare at her for a moment, caught off guard by her boldness. This woman—this incredible, unexpected, brave-as-hell woman—just watched me blow out a man’s kneecaps, and she’s thinking about evidence.
She’s thinking strategically.
All after she’s sustained an injury to her ear and was shot at herself.
But should I really be surprised? This is the same young woman who killed Kel and didn’t regret it. My baby is not only stronger than anybody realizes, she’s tougher too.
I nod slowly, then turn back to the kid, gesturing with the Glock. “Give me your phone. Now.”
“I’ll just grab it!”
Solana rushes forward to do it herself, boldly digging the phone out of his pocket.
“Passcode,” she demands.
“569212!” he rattles off between groans of pain. She quickly unlocks the phone, scrolling through his call history and texts. I watch her work, impressed despite myself, until she finds what we’re looking for.
I take the phone from her and dial the number labeled “Wheels.”
It rings a few times before he picks up, skipping a greeting altogether.
“Job done?” he asks in his gruff, expectant tone.
“The only job that’s done,” I say, “is that your boy here is on the ground with some blown-out kneecaps. He might never walk the same again.”
Wheels draws a deep inhale. Knowing him he’s grinding his teeth together and fixing to smoke another cigarette (he’s always smoked a couple packs a day). But instead of revealing his hand, he answers my taunting words with taunts of his own.
“You didn’t think this was over, did you, Silver?” he asks as if amused. “I got a score to settle. All the way back from when this war started and I got sent away.”
