“Did someone pay the price for letting me kill your men?” I murmur, knowing exactly how their boss treats his followers.
When I hulked out and went on a killing rampage, Gus no doubt lost his shit, and did some murdering of his own.
Neither of them speaks, but one swallows so hard, I hear it in my cell. My grin grows, and I nod once. I briefly consider trying to get them on my side. In the Bay, loyalties are easily flipped. We’ve seen it time and time again. We saw it with Quan and Raptor. There’s fall out in Augustus’ ranks. Flipping them wouldn’t be difficult when they’re this scared.
Instead, I decide to piss them off.
“Did one of your friends have to die for your mistakes?” I taunt, circling the cell door. “Did your boss bend you over and spank your naughty asses for failing? Again?”
I chuckle at the horrible joke. Nothing gets information faster than a bitch boy with a short leash and no control. Especially when you talk shit about their manhood.
The scarred one sneers as the other fumbles for his keys. It’s comical watching them scramble.
“You motherfucking piece of shit!” One shouts, his voice bouncing around the prison as he gets the cell unlocked.
That’s it, asshole. Keep yelling. Tell everyone where you are. Lose your mind. Forget the door’s open.
I roll my shoulders back, popping my knuckles one by one, the sound echoing in the small space. I’ve been waiting for this. My heart rate doesn’t even pick up; it’s like I’m wired for this, for the fight, for the blood. It’s the one thing I’ve always been good at.
One of them growls, trying to cover his fear with aggression. “You think you’re tough shit, huh?” he spits, his voice thick with a Mexican accent. “You think you can take us both?”
The other one cracks his neck, stepping forward as he adds, “Gonna enjoy breaking you, cabrón.”
I can’t help but laugh, the sound low and rumbling in my chest. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with.
“You two gonna keep yapping, or are we gonna get to it?” I grin, popping my neck side to side, the movement deliberate, controlled.
They’re shit-talking, trying to psych themselves up, but I’m calm, unaffected. I’ve been in too many fights to let a couple of scared gangbangers get under my skin. They clearly have no idea who they’re dealing with. I’m not just some lowly, ganged up thug like them.
I’m the fists of the Diablos. The man who incites violence and torture. I’m the controlled, calm killer.
I’m in my fucking element right now.
The one with the scar lunges first, and I’m already moving, slipping to the side with practiced ease. His fist sails past my head, and before he can recover, I slam my elbow into the back of his neck, sending him crashing into the bars. The other guy rushes in, and I meet him head-on, driving my fist into his gut with a force that doubles him over.
They’re big, but they’re sloppy—too scared to be anything more than muscle. I’ve dealt with worse. Hell, I’ve taken down worse, with less to work with. As the scarred one staggers back to his feet, I step forward, cracking my knuckles again, just for show.
“Come on, pendejos,” I taunt, my voice cold. “Let’s see what you’ve got, bitch boys.”
Oh. They really don’t like that. I smirk, waggling my brows.
“That’s what you are,” I say with a laugh. “Augustus Luna doesn’t give a fuck who you are. He doesn’t care about your mama, or your sister. He doesn’t give a shit if you’re ten, or fifty. You’re nothing but a wall between him and his enemies. He’ll sooner watch you die than lift his manicured finger and fight for himself.”
I get up in the scarred one's face while the other uses the bars to pull himself up.
“Don’t you get it?” I hiss, gritting my teeth. “You’re nothing!”
Their fear is palpable now, and it fuels me, sharpens my focus. They came here thinking they’d take me down, but they’re about to learn the hard way that I’m not the one who needs to be afraid.
His eyes widen but he’s too slow. My fist connects with his jaw, the crack of bone echoing in the small cell. He crumples to the floor, unconscious before he even hits the ground. The other one barely has time to react before I’m on him, driving my knee into his gut with all the force I can muster. He folds like a cheap chair, wheezing as he collapses next to his buddy.
I step back, catching my breath, my heart still pounding, but my mind is laser-focused. They thought they could take me down, but they were wrong—dead wrong. I scan the room, eyes darting to the scarred one first. I kick him over with my foot and drop to a crouch, searching for the keys that might give me another shot at getting out of this hellhole. But before I can find anything, I hear the slow, deliberate thud of heavy footsteps approaching the cell.
Goddammit!
I suck in a harsh breath and let it out slowly. My head is pounding so hard, it feels like it’s about to split in half. Fuck. Whatever this fresh hell is, it’s going to hurt.
I look up, and my blood runs cold. A third man is standing in the doorway. He’s massive, easily the biggest guard I’ve seen yet, built like a damn tank. His eyes gleam with a twisted kind of amusement as he takes in the scene, a slow grin spreading across his face.
