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He wipes his mouth. “Thought prison might’ve fixed that temper.”

“Get up.”

He does but he’s still smiling. That’s his mistake. He swings first but he’s drunk and slow. I move aside and drive my fist into his jaw. He hits the wall. I hit him again. Blood sprays across the snow.

He laughs. “There he is.”

I grab his jacket and slam him against the building.

“Ten years,” he spits. “And you’re still exactly the same.”

I hit him again. His lip splits. “Think she knows what you are?” Another punch. “You tell her how you cried when they sentenced you?” I see red. “You tell your pretty little wife nobody believed you?”

I hit him hard enough that he drops.

Then I’m on him.

My fist connects with his face over and over. Pain explodes through my hand but I don’t care. Brody coughs and spits blood into the snow. “You can beat me all you want.”

I grab his collar. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Won’t change anything.”

I hit him again.

“You’re still Killer Miller.”

Again.

“Still the piece of shit everybody knows you are.”

Again.

My knuckles split and his face blurs. I don’t see the alley anymore, I see a courtroom. Brody in a clean shirt and a prosecutor pointing at me.

My mother crying.

Handcuffs closing around my wrists. A steel door. Eighteen months.

A decade of people lowering their voices when I walk past.

Brody smiles through blood. “She’ll figure you out too.”

My fist draws back.

“Dane.”

I barely hear her.

“Eventually she’ll realize she married a fucking animal.”

I tighten my grip on his jacket.

“Dane.”

My fist comes down again and Brody groans.

“Dane, stop!” Her hands touch my shoulder.