The man can scent weakness like a bloodhound, and he might be inclined to correct me. It’s something he hasn’t done since I grew taller than him and added about eighty more pounds of muscle to my frame, but the threat always exists. Lurking in the back of my mind and memories, even if it’s not real.
I’ll go up to him, stand strong, make my case for why I deserve to exit the organization with a little dignity, and then escape this exhausting life for good.
Fuck knows what I’m going to do after that, but that’s a problem for Future Savage.
I’m so in my head that I hear the commotion thirty seconds after everyone else does.
I’m trained to be on high alert at all times. It’s been instilled in me since I was a little boy protecting my stepbrother from Father’s rages, long before my formal training began. For as long as I can remember, it was instinct. But protecting Micah was a worthy cause. Probably the only worthy cause I ever had.
Nowadays, all the misery that I’ve been drowning in has left me sluggish, and saving my own hide isn’t enough motivation to switch that instinct back on. This thirty-second delay is a prime example of that. As soon as I clock it, I realize it’s probably about to cost me my life. I’ve become slow and vulnerable, and the Aryan Brotherhood must have sensed it.
I reach for my Glock, but it’s not there. The courthouse. I had to leave it in the car for the metal detectors.
Fuck.
Four men with their faces covered in dirty bandanas charge up the steps. The courthouse security guards are moving at the speed that only fat courthouse rent-a-cops would. They look likethey’d rather run for their lives than put themselves in between two groups of criminals about to battle it out on their doorstep.
The wall of sound hits me first. Then the acrid smell of blood and gunpowder fills my nose, and I find myself face down on the rough cement steps without any awareness of how I got there. My shoulder throbs and so does my stomach, so I must have been hit.
Each gasping breath of air I try to take is thick with dirt and dust. My lips graze the rough ground, and I wonder if the last sensation I’ll experience in life is tasting the boot prints of everyone who’s gone up and down these steps before me.
Fuck this.I wasn’t even going to say anything. I was going to keep my mouth shut and then get out. And now I’m surrounded by nothing but yelling and bright, gripping pain. I see Colm at an awkward angle, but it looks like unlike me, he was still carrying when they attacked. He’s firing at someone now, so maybe there’s a chance of us getting out of here alive. Or at least him.
I hope Colm doesn’t die. I don’t have any friends in this business, but if I did, he might be it.
In a flash of clarity, I wish it had been Father here to go down with me instead of anyone else. He’s the one who deserves this kind of undignified end.
Well, I deserve it too. After everything he’s made me do.
Right before the world goes black, I have one final thought. I hope at least I don’t have to see him when we both make it to Hell.
Chapter Two
Savage
There’s so much noise when I wake up that my initial thought isI wish I’d died.My entire body throbs and my head feels like it’s two sizes bigger than usual.
My father’s voice filters through the din. My entire being has been cultivated to be attuned to him. His every mood and desire. Every shift in the wind. The cells of my body have always pointed toward him, like grass growing toward the sun.
But the Oklahoma sun. The kind that burns so fiercely in summer that the grass wilts and withers under its glare. It’s no surprise my addled brain hears his bellow before I even open my eyes or make a conclusive deduction on whether I’m truly alive.
“If they want a war, we’ll show those dumb Nazi fucks what a real war looks like.” His voice drips with vitriol and rage.
There’s murmuring, like the sound of someone standing close and trying to calm him down.
Good luck.
“They. Shot. Tadhg,” he spits. “He could have been killed. Look at him! He’s still halfway to being a corpse.”
Father calling me by my real name makes it clear how grave this is. He hasn’t called me anything but Savage in years. I was already feeling shaky, gripped by pain and nausea, but the intensity of his reaction is unsettling me more deeply than anything else.
“Exactly,” a quiet voice says. It’s tense but rational. Maybe Colm, if he didn’t die back at the courthouse. “He can’t stay here. Look at him. It’ll take weeks or even months for him to recover from this. If we stay here, he’s leaving us vulnerable.”
My eyes are open, I think. I recognize the vaulted ceiling of one of our safe houses, although I’m too dopey to figure out which one right now. Maybe one of the industrial storage facilities outside of the city. Then the world shimmers for a moment, and when it comes back into focus, Father’s clammy hands are on my face.
It’s such a shock. My gut reaction is to jerk away from his touch. I wouldn’t usually lose control in front of him like this, but right now my brain feels like pain soup with nothing but raw animal instincts swimming around in it, desperately trying to keep my body operating.
I’m weak, so I don’t make it far. Father frowns, which sets off warning bells in my head.
