He inches forward, waiting. A foot away so he can catch every second. Watch as a heart stops, as justice is served.
The knife is weightless in my hand. An extension of me. Curved to fit. Gleaming silver. And red. The two lives I’ve already taken with it marking the blade. More notches on my soul.
“Don’t do this,” Grace pleads.
I look at Axe one last time. The man I’ve hated all my life. The man I’ve so deeply wanted to suffer like I’ve suffered, to feel the weight of the sins he’s forced me to commit, the sins I forced myself to commit when I made that choice all those years ago.
Like that night, the choice is easy. It’s not about justice anymore, or vengeance. It’s about protecting my town. It’s about protecting Grace.
“We’re even now, Donovan. You understand?”
He stares at me a long time, eyes dazed, blood crusting the back of his neck, the sides of his mouth. And then he nods. “Yeah, Linc. We’re even.”
Grace’s screams hammer the inside of my head as I swing and meet flesh and bone.
33
Four weeks later
It’s quiet in here.The usual bustle of the South Bay Police Station a world away as I sit in this office, behind a desk that isn’t mine.
The shelves are empty, drawers cleaned out. Everything is gone.
The reign of Chief Martin Wells is over.
It’s interesting how a single room can showcase an entire career, an entire person one day, then be packed up and shoved into boxes to be stored away and forgotten the next. No more framed service awards, family photos, or pictures of important people shaking hands. Just bare walls and empty space.
All that’s left is this desk and this chair. And me.
I kick my feet up and lean back, letting my lids close as I exhale a deep breath.
At the sound of a throat clearing, I crack open an eye.
Axel Donovan is propped against the doorframe of the chief’s office. “OPP all cleared out?”
It’s been a hell of a month. Full of statements, incident reports, the media breathing down our necks. That’s what happens when a cop dies in the line of duty. There are questions and investigations and piles of paperwork.
Allen got a funeral he didn’t deserve. Closed casket. Flying flags. Police escorts with flashing lights.
Part of me wanted to go. To watch all the people pay their respects, his grieving family. Not to add insult to injury, but as I dug that knife into his throat, as I watched his life end, I understood. Why he was who he was.
Vengeance. A sentiment I’ve become intimately familiar with. I’ve been in that head space, practically fucking lived in it for a decade, where it’s the only thing you can see, the only thing that matters. Retribution.
I understand it, but I wouldn’t change what I did. Allen wasn’t going to let Grace go. I could see it, feel it.
There would be no talking him down, no convincing him to walk away.
Grace is Jimmy Donovan’s daughter. The man he holds responsible for killing his brother. She was never gonna survive that. And there’s no way in hell Allen was gonna let me live. He needed someone to blame. And my connection to the Sinners made me the perfect scapegoat. A gift-wrapped little loose end with a pretty bow ready to be handed over on a platter to the chief.
I couldn’t have that. I had to protect myself, my town. Protect what’smine.He threatened that. And now he’s in the fucking ground.
I nod at the Sinner prez. “Last one packed up this morning.”
The Biker Enforcement Unit’s investigation into the South Bay Sinners has been put on an indefinite hold. A high-ranking OPP officer tried his hand at vigilante justice. At least, that’s thestory. It was easy to spin since most of it was true. I just kept myself out of it.
Allen’s reputation is in the shitter. Morgan’s been asked to step down. Murphy might be looking at jail time. Three other OPP officers have been put on leave. Shit’s only just starting to settle, but I’m glad to have my town back. It was getting too damn crowded around here.
“You look good in here, Deck,” Axe says. “It suits you.”
