I zigzag through the containers, shooting to my left whenever I’m in an open space and more vulnerable.
“Fuck,” Hunter curses behind me, voice travelling further than I’d expect. “Miles, stay with Matthew.” Then there are footsteps following me. I’ll never turn down having Hunter at my back. I’m never safer than when I’m with him or Miles.
Lester doesn’t get far before I’m on him. He’s fast; I’m faster. He half turns and shoots at me. A bullet grazes my cheek, pain bursting across my face. Instead of returning fire the way I want to, I tackle him to the ground.
Shoving his face against the concrete, I stomp on his wrist, forcing him to let go of his weapon. Hunter is there in an instant, moving it out of reach.
“You had one shot, Lester,” I whisper harshly, leaning down to speak in his ear. He struggles, and I hold tighter, keeping him in place. “And you missed.”
He grunts in pain as I drag him to his feet and ram him up against the nearest shipping container, forearm against his throat to keep him in place, gun pressed to his stomach to further encourage him to stay still. Shots to the gut aren’t quick; they’re painful and messy and he’s well aware of that.
There are more footsteps behind us, two sets, with urgency. I don’t turn around; I trust that Hunter will handle it. When there are no shots fired, I know that it’s Miles and Matthew.
“Where is he?” I demand. When there’s no answer, I nudge the barrel further into him, hard enough to bruise. “Tell me now.”
Still nothing. “There’s nothing to be gained by being stubborn. I can make this nice and slow. Drag it out fordays. You give me what I want? I’ll make it quick.” The only mercy he’ll get from me.
“You can’t kill him,” Matthew says, voice pitching high.
“Can’t I?” What did he think we were coming here for? Information, yes. First and foremost, I came for blood, and blood is what I’ll get.
“You’re better than that.”
I might have laughed if any part of this situation was funny. “Context matters, Matthew. In this? No, I’m not better than that.”
Lester laughs, raspy from how much pressure I have on his throat. “Are you seriously trying tohelpme?” he croaks out. “You little idiot. He won’t spare me because you look at him with those fuck-me eyes.”
Matthew blinks. “My what?”
“Enough,” I growl tersely. I don’t have time for Lester’s games. “Tell me where he is.” It entirely depends on what he chooses to tell me. “And don’t lie to me.” The warning doesn’t need more than that.
“Please don’t.”
My eyes close in an attempt to find patience. “Matthew, I need you to step away.”Stop looking at me like I’m more than what I am.Hunter and Miles know who I am, and they accept that. I need him to as well. Except that he isn’t like us. His hands aren’t stained with blood. He hasn’t been to Hell and come out the other side, baptised in the hottest of flames.
“I can’t. I’m trying to help.”
This time I turn to face him, secure in the knowledge that Miles will have his eyes trained on Lester if he tries anything.Besides that, I have a good hold on him, and I can shoot him faster than he can move. “Helping who exactly?” If he’s looking to help me, he’s far too many years late. If he’s trying to help Lester, then he needs better judgement.
“Your boy has a soft spot,” Lester remarks lazily. “That’s going to get him killed. Ready to dig another grave, Xavier?”
“Shut up,” I growl through gritted teeth.
What does Matthew expect from me?Restraint?How does he not see that violence is who I am? All that I am? Without it, without my mere existence being a threat, what do I have left? Stripped bare until I no longer exist. Hunter thought once that I was more, and I showed him just how much of a weapon I am, how little a person. I tried to change for him. I’mstilltrying to change for him. But not at this cost. Not if it means putting them in danger, of not being a danger enough myself that someone thinks they can come for what’s mine.
Hunter steps closer, sliding a hand over my forearm, squeezing gently. “Xavier.”
I growl, pressing harder against Lester until he’s gasping for breath. No one stops me. No one speaks. They won’t stop me now. With a frustrated cry of pain, I shove one more time and let go, staggering back.
Matthew is there in a moment, an arm sliding behind my back, his hand reaching for mine. I don’t deserve the softness or his careful, kind heart. If he hadn’t been here, I would have killed Lester without a second thought. I’mnotbetter than that, and next time I won’t be either.
“We’ll do this the right way,” Hunter says quietly.
“And what way is that?” I ask, low, defeated, tired. Can’t they see that I need to keep them safe? How can I do that if we keep letting the people that want to hurt them live? “He’s not going to talk.”
“We’ll find another way.”
The sound of tires screeching nearby has us all tensing. Slammed doors. More footsteps. I’m not in the mood for more idiots tonight.
