I'm faster.
I shoot the hand his gun is in.
The bullet tears through flesh and bone, takes off three fingers. The gun goes flying across the room.
Venom screams, clutching the ruined mess of his hand.
"That's for threatening Grace," I say coldly.
Phantom shoots next—right kneecap.
The joint explodes in a spray of blood and bone fragments.
Venom drops, screaming, writhing on the floor.
"That's for putting a bounty on my daughter," Phantom says.
Venom's on the ground now, bleeding from multiple wounds, broken, helpless.
Exactly where he deserves to be.
I walk over, crouch down so we're eye level.
He's gasping, tears and snot mixing with blood on his face.
"You wanted to cage my wife," I say quietly, my voice dead calm. "Treat her like property. Like an animal you could own and control. You threatened to burn our clubhouse. Kill our brothers. Destroy everything we've built."
Venom's on the floor, bleeding, broken, but when he looks up at me, there's no begging in his eyes. Just cold acceptance.
"So this is how it ends," he says, his voice steady despite the pain. "Shot down in my own clubhouse by Texas trash."
"Begging?" I laugh. It's not a nice sound. "Did you show mercy when Grace begged? When your son raped her? When Flint put her in that cage?"
"I couldn’t control?—"
I crouch down, meet his eyes. "You brought this on yourself. You came after Grace. You threatened my family."
"She was bought and paid for," Venom says, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "Four million dollars. That's the debt."
"Your son was a rapist," Phantom says, stepping forward. "He raped my daughter. That's the truth you refuse to accept."
Venom's jaw tightens. "Bronco was my blood. Right or wrong, he was mine. And you killed him."
"He earned it," I say coldly.
"Maybe." Venom's eyes are hard, calculating even now. "But so did you. You think I'm the only one who wants revenge? There are more Copperhead Kings. More allies. You killed my sons—both of them. That debt doesn't die with me."
"Then we'll kill them too," Phantom says simply.
Venom actually laughs—a harsh, bitter sound. "You might have to."
He's not afraid. Not begging. Just a man who knows he's beaten but refuses to go out weak.
I stand, look at Phantom. "This one's mine."
Phantom meets my eyes, sees the cold fury there, and nods. "He's yours."
I look down at Venom. "Any last words?"
