Chapter 1
King
Istood in thick clay-red soil, the earth damp and sticky beneath the soles of my boots. The woods stretched endlessly around me, tall pine and oak trees crowding the sky like silent witnesses. I was about fifteen miles from the nearest road, deep in the backwoods of Meridian, Mississippi. The air hung heavy with humidity and the smell of wet dirt, pine needles, and rot. It was the kind of place where screams disappeared, and bodies became stories the woods swallowed whole.
Most of my family had moved away over the years, scattering to different states the way people did when they wanted distance from pain. I had left too. But my mom stayed rooted in the dirty South, stubborn as the soil beneath my feet. She refused to leave the place where my father died.
It had been two years since I buried one of the greatest mentors and confidants a son could ever have.
Two years since my heart had been shattered and ripped clean out of my chest, tossed aside like another broken thing in a pile of grief.
Losing my father felt like losing my soul. That day had carved something out of me that would never grow back. It was the saddest day of my life.
But it was also the day I made a promise.
I swore I would kill the men who caused my family that kind of pain.
I took a long, hard drag from my Newport 100. The menthol burned cold in my lungs before I let the smoke slide slowly from my mouth. I flicked the ash down onto the man lying at my feet.
Dead.
His body looked barely human anymore. My knuckles were split open and raw, blood crusted around them. I had beaten him with my bare fists until my arms felt like they were filled with sand. His face had collapsed inward from the damage. When I finished, there hadn’t been any real need to shoot him.
But I did it anyway. Because that was exactly what he did to my father. The man lying in the dirt had taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life.
Never trust a soul.
Not even kin.
Trusting the wrong person could cost you everything.
I lifted my gun slowly, the metal cold against my palm, and emptied the rest of the clip into him. Each shot cracked through the trees, echoing through the woods like thunder. When the last shell fell silent, I spat on what was left of his face.
Fat black pincher bugs were already crawling over him, drawn by the smell of blood and torn flesh. They moved fast, their bodies twitching as they claimed their feast.
God only knew what else lurked deeper in these woods.
But whatever it was, they would eat good tonight.
Nobody would ever find this piece of shit.
And hopefully God himself wouldn’t accept him either.
This man belonged to the devil.
Truth be told… so did I.
I pulled my dick out and pissed on him, the hot stream splashing across his lifeless chest before soaking into the dirt. When I finished, I zipped up and kicked his body hard before turning away.
For two years that bastard had run from me.
Two long years.
He bounced from state to state like a scared animal, living off money he stole from my father. Money my father bled for.
My mind drifted back to the night everything changed.
The night my father went out to make the biggest play of his life…
