"Because I could," she said quietly. "Because nobody says no to me. Not her. Not you. Not anybody. I built an empire on bodies, Marcus. Hers is just one more." She tilted her head, her voice dripping with malice. "She thought she could tell me what to do. About my son. About what type of person I should be. And then she tried to leave me."
Marcus stared at her. The silence stretched for ten seconds. Twenty. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, broken in a way that made my own chest ache.
"Delilah left Mississippi for you." He swallowed hard around the grief. "She loved you. She trusted you. And you put her in the ground like she was nothing."
"She was nothing without me." Rage’s eyes glittered. "The second she said she was leaving, she chose to become nothing."
Marcus didn't move. I thought—for one terrible second—that he might not move at all, that the sheer weight of the grief had swallowed him whole.
Then his fist connected with her face.
Bone on bone. Blood sprayed from her split lip. Rage staggered back but didn't even have time to fall before he hit her again. And again. And again.
"You don't get to say that!" he roared, his voice splintering apart. "You don't get to talk about her!"
Rage’s men instinctively reached for their waistbands.
"Don't." Draeon didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
They froze.
Marcus grabbed Rage by the throat and slammed her hard against a concrete support beam. Her feet literally left the ground. Her face was already swelling, blood dripping down her chin, but she was still wearing that horrible, knowing smirk.
He pulled out his sidearm and pressed the cold steel of the barrel directly against her forehead.
For a long moment, he didn't pull the trigger. His hand shook violently. His breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes searched her bloody face, desperate to find something—remorse, fear, anything that would make her human.
Rage just smirked back at him.
"Tell Delilah you're sorry when you see her," Marcus whispered.
He squeezed the trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot was deafening.
Rage’s body jerked once, then went entirely limp. Marcus held her pinned there for another long second, staring into her dead eyes as if searching for something he'd never find. Then he let go.
She hit the concrete with a wet thud. Fresh blood spread out beneath her head, mixing with the old, crusted stains on the floor.
Marcus stood over her corpse, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. For a moment, I thought the man might collapse right next to her.
Rage’s men stood frozen. Their eyes darted erratically between Marcus, Draeon, me, and the dozens of barrels pointed their way.
Marcus slowly looked up at them, his pistol still smoking. "Anybody else feel like dying for her tonight?"
Silence.
One of her men tightened his grip on his rifle. Marcus immediately snapped his gun up, aiming right between the guy's eyes.
"Think real hard before you make that decision."
The man swallowed hard. Nobody moved.
Marcus nodded once, lowering the weapon. "That's what I thought." He looked around the room, his lip curling in disgust. "Your boss is dead. Truth is, half of y'all probably wanted her dead anyway."
A few uncomfortable, shifting expressions answered him.
