It’s woken me up and then I’m there for her, soothing her and running my fingers through her hair. I whisper to her how nothing can touch her and that I’ll slay all of her demons and then give her their heads on a stake.
Who knew the threat of violence would be the trick to keep those nightmares at bay and allow my woman to rest easier?
One day nothing will disturb her sleep. But I have a feeling it won’t happen until this piece of shit cop is taken care of.
And my woman deserves to never look over her shoulder again.
Her strength fills me with awe. Not only did she look Wagner in the eye and call him a murderer, but it took a lot of fuckingcourage to tell me to go and take care of it instead of staying with her and holding her close.
I’d much rather have my woman in my arms than be dealing with this piece of shit. But here we are and I know this needs to happen to grant Addy peace.
The peace she deserves.
The peace that never should have been shattered in the first place.
When I glance over at Anchor, a sinister smile curls on his lips. He presses a button on a remote, and a projector drops out of the ceiling. It’s encased in clear acrylic, just in case blood splatter gets away from us.
People tend to dig their heels in and deny their crimes unless confronted with proof. Wagner won’t be any different. Not when he’s convinced himself that he’s untouchable.
“Geoffrey Wagner. Age 32. Joined Internal Affairs two years ago after making a name for himself as a Narc,” Anchor relays the basics while Wagner’s chest heaves and he glares at my brother like it will be enough to help him escape his fate.
It won’t.
We all curl our lip at the man in front of us. His bio is enough and tells us plenty about the man he is. He’s a rat without a shred of loyalty.
“You’re making a mistake,” Wagner tries to sound tough, but I can hear the wobble in the words.
I walk over to where we keep our tools, my fingers ghosting over the instruments of destruction and pain we’ve curated for use down here. Each one of them is easily cleaned or replaced.None of them are sentimental because keeping something you shouldn’t is a good way to get caught.
No evidence.
No trace.
Clean.
Easy.
That’s the way we like things. It’s the way Battle taught me when it was time, and it’s a tradition I’ve kept up with unfailingly. Because I’ll never do something to put my brothers at risk.
Having the shed is enough of a risk as it is.
When I turn back toward Wagner, I have a knife in my hand. It’s big, mostly for the shock value of it, and it has a wicked blade for maximum damage.
Wagner eyes the blade, but he doesn’t say anything. Pity.
“You’ve really stepped in it now,” I warn him.
Anchor informs everyone of what I already know, “He’s been skimming from evidence and taking payoffs from dirty cops and criminals long before he joined IA.”
My brothers grumble and shift from one foot to the other. We might be criminals ourselves, but there are lines we don’t cross. Wagner clearly doesn’t have the same ideals.
Wagner perks up and admits, “Yes, that’s right. Which means I can pay you off. I’ll pay you, just name your price, and then let me go. You can even keep that bitch as long as you ensure she’ll keep her mouth shut.” He smirks, the expression creepy as fuck on his pinched face, “I’m sure you can find a way to keep her quiet.”
He says it like we share some sort of perversion. We don’t.
I step closer to him and notice the way sweat starts to bead on his forehead. As if I didn’t already know, it’s proof he’s all bluster and bullshit.
“That’s not going to happen.”
