Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Look at me.”
A long drawn breath, then he faces me. Nothing hard about him now. His jaw's quivering as he's trying to keep his shit together. But he looks me in the eyes, I'll give him that.
I put the sharp of the blade against the side of his neck. A droplet of blood oozes out around the steel and slides down towards his shoulder. I'm barely breaking his skin, but it wouldn't take much. I slide the blade down, leaving a cut for him to remember me by. More blood wells out, staining his skin and the top of his T-shirt. He hisses and shuts his eyes tight, convinced it's all over for him. He's gonna have a scar to remember me by for the rest of his fucking life. Just in case he needs a reminder.
I pull the blade away, but it takes him a long moment before he realizes. His eyes open and he looks up at me, confusion warring with relief.
“If I ever fucking see you again, I'm gonna finish the job. Get the fuck outta here. Go home. Get a fucking job, or go to school. Don't let this life fuck you up. We clear?” I gesture at him with the knife for each point I make.
“You—you're letting me go?”
“Would you rather stay?”
“No… no! No, I'll go. I'll go. Fuck, thank you.” His jaw's quivering again, and he nearly loses it. “Thank you!”
“Get the fuck outta here. Remember, I never wanna see you again.”
He nods so hard I worry his head's gonna fucking pop off, then turns and walks as quickly as he can towards the gate. He keeps looking over his shoulder like I might be fucking with him. Not a bad fucking instinct to have, honestly. It’ll keep him alive longer.
Every brother between us and the gate watches him go, but no one gets in his way. The closer he gets to the gate, the faster he walks, until he’s jogging.
“Hey!” I yell after him just as he gets to the gate. He twists my way immediately, probably expecting my iron to be out. “Make better fucking choices.”
He nods once more, and then he's gone, running for his fucking life. Hopefully, he follows my advice.
“He's gonna be running until he's in another fucking state.” Blackout barks a laugh.
I don't. Fuck, that coulda been me while Dad was on one of his benders or serving, or the foster system got to be too much for a kid who couldn’t sit still and be normal. Fuck, I'm probably projecting. That kid's older than I was when I was on my own. Doesn't fucking matter. He’s still not ready for this life.
“Whatever. As long as he stays the fuck away from us.”
Skyhigh puts his hand on my shoulder. “If I didn't fucking know better, I'd think you cared.”
“Just don't wanna see him dead in a ditch. He's not cut out for this shit, and he's useless to us.” I shrug.
“Well,” Skyhigh says, looking at the gate. “Between watching you take out his friend, and that slice you put on his throat, I don't think he's ever gonna fucking forget you. Hopefully, he takes the warning and doesn’t decide revenge sounds better.”
I grunt in agreement, while Blackout gives me a nudge. “You made the right choice.”
“I need a fucking beer.” We set a course for the clubhouse. We made plans to take Willow joyriding down the coast later, but we have a little time, and that little shit hit me harder than I'd like to admit. A drink sounds good.
Skyhigh drops into the couch across from me and takes a drag from his bottle. “Are we being selfish bastards with Willow? I’m having a good fucking time, but she doesn't need this shit in her life.”
“What do you mean?” Blackout's chosen to stand, propped up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his bottle hanging loosely from a couple of fingers. “You wanna set her loose? 'Cause fuck, just the thought of her makes me hard. I'm not gonna bail unless she doesn't wanna see any more of me.”
“Fuck, no. That’s not what I mean. She’s sweet, pretty, hot for it, and eager to play and learn. What's not to fucking love? I don't know. Maybe she'll wise up later, but I think she fucking likes us and I don't wanna ruin that. The shit we do? It fucks up people’s lives.”
“Bullshit.” Blackout takes another sip. “Willow's a fucking adult. You know how she grew up. She’s not that way she is because she’s an innocent sheltered flower. She’s just sweet to her fucking bones. It's no secret that we're not the nicest boys on the block. And she's got grit. That girl's no fucking quitter, and I don't think she'd appreciate you making decisions for her about what she can fucking handle or not.”