“I’ll bury you alive, you hear me? Not even your corrupt piece of shit father will hear you scream.” I spit my words so quietly, leaving the weight of my promise hovering over him.
His throat spasms in my palm, and I know one more squeeze and I’ll kill him.
And I want to, I’m about to, until I feel a tap on my shoulder.
Harlen is at my back reminding me to tap out, guiding me to spare a life I don’t want to. And it takes everything inside of me to let him go; to step back.
My head squeals with static voices as I throw Colton to the ground. And I blink through the fury, carrying myself away while an echo screams for me to turn back, to finish him now. But a force pushes me in the other direction, thrusts me forward, tells me that despite the drugging, the beating, Imayhave it all wrong.
My feet move on their own, at no quicker pace than they had before, and when Harlen’s shoulder brushes across mine, I hear a noise from behind us, and even though it was muffled and quiet, I knew exactly where it was coming from.
Prideful motherfuckers like Colton James had never been able to hold their tongue.
“Keller!” he shouts, a gurgled mess.
At that, I turn to see Bryce steady Colton on his feet, only, Colton pushes him away, his knees rubbery and weak. Hischeeks are red, blood is everywhere, and apart from the damage I’d inflicted, the way Colton holds himself, with his shoulders hanging forward, tells me he is embarrassed, thatIembarrassed him, and it should have felt as good as killing him, but it doesn’t.
I feel nothing.
“I’m fine, man,” Colton directs his words at Bryce, spitting a clot of blood and a tooth to the concrete.
Colton drags his eyes back, flicking his gaze over his brow line until they land on mine.
He tries stifling a smirk, and at the sight, I clench my fists, shove them into the front pockets of my jeans.
He speaks again, and this time, his words are for me.
“I am truly sorry, man,” He pushes a hand to his chest, straightens, spits on the ground again. “What happened to your sister…” He wipes over his mouth with the back of his arm, collecting a glob of blood and saliva, shaking his head. “That’s truly,trulyfucked up,” he says each word with a heightened lilt, clicking his tongue against his back teeth.
It puts fire in my lungs.
I hold onto the flames though, the same way I hold onto the urge to rip his head from his shoulders, because the truth was, I didn’t know if Colton had done this.
He was too prideful and boastful to create such carnage in solitude.
When he beat on me, he didn’t beat on me alone. Colton liked an audience; he didn’t want to be unknown.
The monster that had done this to my sister, and to Laiken—and to the girl two years before—didn’t care for an audience. His name didn’t matter, nor did his face, it was in which state he had left them that did.
Thatwas his stage of blood.
And something deep down in the bowels of my guts knew that while Colton was a sack of shit, he wasn’t guilty of this crime.
“We need to leave, man.” Harlen whispers.
And I spit toward the ground, knowing that if I don’t take that step forward, I’ll take one step back, and the truth was, I didn’t know if I’d be breaking Colton’s neck for Jade, or for me.
The pallid gleam from my headlights snag on the grainy and porous gray brick of Devil’s Peak MC clubhouse.
I flick them off, cut the engine to my truck and kick out my door, finding what balance I can on my feet.
Rusty and Skinner are striding toward us, and I can see Rusty’s mouth is moving but it’s as if the sound travels through water.
“What the fuck happened?”
I scratch my chin, drag my hand beneath my nose, and look at Harlen who doesn’t look at me, his eyes on the ground at his feet. I respond with a weightless shrug because the blood that coated my knuckles and my face didn’t matter, because Colton James didn’t matter.
Rusty exhales, and this time, he asks what’s important. “How is she doing?”
