The Lincolns have always lived and thrived off one thing. Well, maybe two. Power and money, but especially cash flow. It’s how their entire organization operates. You don’t have to be in it to know that. Their business is dirty, and so is every single cent that comes in from it.
I have no doubt they’re here to teach me another lesson. I’m baffled it hasn’t happened since the first time, but Finn always has been a tiny bit more compassionate than his father. At least, that's what I've gathered from the few stories I've heard growing up.
Clyde’s stare is like a laser, beaming through the mirror and catching me in the reflection. “Put your hand on the console,” the man in the front demands.
Dread works up my spine. Finn has to know I’m good for it. Every other time I’ve had to pay Mom’s stupidity back, I’ve done it. This time might be slightly different as far as how long it’s taking, but I’ve always been true to my word. I never make promises I can’t keep. Finn knows this.
Betrayal winds its way around me. I may not be buddy-buddy with Finn, but we grew up together, walked down the same halls in high school, and played on the same intramural soccer teams in gym class.
“This doesn’t have to go this way. I’ve always paid my mom’s dues. Haven’t I?”
“Shit’s different this time,” is all Finn says, his face stone cold.
“Finn.”
“Don’t fucking say my name like that,” he growls out. “I warned you this was going to happen. It’s not my problem your junkie mom doesn’t know how to keep her own fucking nose clean. You want to bitch like a cunt about what’s about to happen, go home and do it with her.”
I imagine that when the two of them leave, Clyde will praise his boy for his lack of compassion, for his ice-cold demeanor. I turn toward my window, seeing nothing but traffic moving at a fast pace. Even if I want to open the door, I can’t.
It’d be unfair to ruin someone else’s day.
“Lay your hand flat,” Finn demands, motioning to the center console. “You move, you flinch, and I’ll take you to a place where no one will hear your pathetic cries while I break every goddamn bone in your hand. Got it?”
My jaw locks in place. I’m raging, screaming to the high heavens over what’s happening on the inside.
I didn’t ask for this! God damnit, I don’t deserve it.
But this is better than the alternative. Better than it being mom.
I harden my emotions, pushing down the disappointment and resentment coming up like I’ve done in the past. If I thought my muscles were tight before, I was wrong. I’m so tense I wouldn’t be able to move a centimeter if I tried. I solidify allparts of me, turning my body into a pillar of cement rather than the flesh and blood I am.
Get it over with,I want to yell in his ear.Do what the fuck you have to do so I can get out of this godforsaken car.
I suck in a quick breath, trying like hell to let it out slow and controlled. Finn grabs something from the pocket on the back of the passenger seat that I didn’t see when I got in. It has a handle and looks a lot like a tool you’d find at any home improvement store and then it hits me. It’s a ball-peen hammer with a rounded edge on one side and a flatter, more blunt tip on the opposite end.
He doesn’t bother warning what’s coming, but panic winds through my body as I set my gaze on the ceiling’s carefully cinched material before shifting to the rearview mirror.
This ishim. Clyde.
Then again, maybe Finn is just as cruel as the man up front. He used my neck as an ashtray. The scar is still there, small and discolored, but a reminder every time I look in the mirror. His guy jumped me in an alleyway. Beat me down while he stood there and watched.
Flashbacks of Finn and me when we were kids come one after another, and I find it strange that that’s what I think about as he winds his arm back.
The hammer comes down hard, hitting me in the middle of my hand. A sharp pain shoots down my middle finger, the snapping sensation a sign he hit where he meant to. A throb immediately settles in, but I bite down, trying my hardest not to wince or gripe.
I focus on the emptiness that exists in the eyes of Clyde Lincoln.
A shade darker than my own and giving me nothing, I know then that if the opportunity ever presents itself, I’ll take him down. In whatever way that it becomes available, I’ll dive intothose drums of toxicity if it means he’ll never have the chance of making someone feel as helpless as I do now.
TWENTY-FIVE
VIOLET
I unloadmy school stuff in my room and sit on the edge of the bed. I’m up less than a minute later, peering out of every window in the apartment to see if I can spot Colson and Stranger Guy. We’re on the backside of the building—a small detail I forget amidst the adrenaline pumping through me. I don’t find either of them.
Colson’s body language was too tense, and his demeanor flipped like a coin when I brought Stranger Guy to his attention. Whatever he has going on with him, I imagine he doesn’t like it any more than I do.
What business would they have with each other?
