Kit’s standing behind Finn now, gripping what looks like a metal pole or chair leg. I watch the screen, heart hammering.
Kit grins, wide, almost feral, as he swings the metal rod back with surprising strength, then brings it forward with every ounce of energy he has left. The crack as it connects with Finn’s temple is sickeningly loud, bone meeting metal in a wet, brutal sound that echoes through the speakers.
Finn’s body staggers, eyes wide in shock, and starts to fall backward. Kit doesn’t pause; he drops the rod, lunges for the gun lying on the table beside Finn, doesn’t even hesitate… he fires. Six shots, point-blank into Finn’s face. The first bullet hits his cheek. The second explodes through his nose. The third and fourth tear into his forehead and eye socket. The fifth and sixth rip through what’s left of his skull, blood and brain matter spraying across the table and the wall behind him in a grotesque arc.
Kit is screaming the entire time, raw, furious screams that sound like they’ve been building for the worst week of his life. “Fuck you!Fuck you! Yousickpiece ofshit!”
I’m fucked in the head, I know it, because I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life. And honestly… this is thehottestthing I’ve ever seen.
Selina and half the room erupt into cheers, fists pumping, voices overlapping in shocked, triumphant shouts.
Armen laughs loud and sharp. “That’s right, Kit!”
Ray claps once, shaking his head in disbelief as he looks at me. “He’s really one of us now, huh?”
I smirk, a low grunt escaping me.
On the screen, Kit drops the gun. His energy is failing fast, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard. His shoulders slump and his body sways.
I lean forward, voice urgent. “Kit, where are you?”
He turns to the camera, eyes glassy, speech badly slurred. “B-boat…”
Then he collapses to the floor, out of frame.
“Christopher!” I shout, the word ripping out of me.
Luke’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Wait… did he sayboat?”
I’m too busy staring at the still call… Finn’s dead body flopped grotesquely over the table, blood pooling, Kit nowhere in sight.
Armen nods quickly. “Y-yeah, he said boat.”
Luke speaks fast, already typing. “Finn bought a boat, remember the brothers mentioned it? He has one registered in his name. It’s kept at the southwest bay.”
Sam leans forward, eyes locked on his screen, fingers flying across the keyboard with sharp, precise clicks. The room is dead quiet except for the rapid tapping.
“I’ve got the registration number from the harbour authority database,” he says, voice tight with focus. “Cross-referencing with satellite imagery and AIS signals now…”
He pauses, squinting at the data streaming in. The seconds stretch. Then his shoulders relax just a fraction. “Got it. It’s anchored off Sanders’ bay; about five miles out. We can have a team there in forty minutes.”
I look at Armen and Selina. “Go with Sam and Luke. If I can’t get to him first, it should be you two he sees.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
~ Throttle ~
Kit
I wake up on the floor, drooling onto the cold metal. Everything’s a blur at first, my head’s pounding, and my face is a throbbing mess of pain. I slowly push myself up with trembling arms until I’m sitting, the room spinning around me.
My eyes drift toward the table. Finn’s body is still there, slumped and grotesque, blood pooled beneath his ruined head. My stomach lurches.Oh my god… that wasn’t a nightmare.I actually killed someone. The thought loops in my head, over and over, sharp and nauseating.No, Kit, you had to do it.He deserved it; the world is a better place without him; he was a psycho. I did the right thing.
But the guilt and shock keep crashing in anyway. I took alife. I pulled the trigger six times. I can still feel the recoil in my hands and hear the screams that tore out of my own throat.
I use the wall to pull myself up until I’m standing, legs wobbly and weak. I don’t feel great at all… dizzy, starving, every part of me aching. I’ve completely forgotten about the video call. I just need to get out of this room.
I push the heavy metal door open with a grunt. I’ve never been up here before. I crawl up the stairs, using my palms to keep myself steady as the boat rocks gently. I grab the railing and haul myself upright, laughing weakly as the sea breeze hits my face. It’s almost dark now, the last sliver of sunset painting the horizon in deep oranges and purples, giving me just enough light to see the boat around me.
