Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
He has no idea that Ma has kept me updated on the lay of the land even though I haven’t been involved in the family business for years. I know where the piece of shit does all his dirty work, and his favorite spot by far is one of the soundproof sheds on the edge of our family property.
It’s going to be his grave.
I put the pedal to the metal, weaving in and out of traffic with weaponized precision as I rush toward our family home. My breathing is the kind of carefully steady that I’ve only ever noticed in the middle of a fight, my hands so tight on the wheel that my knuckles blanch white. Somehow, I manage to make it there without crashing, and I skid the car to a stop at the very end of the driveway.
Thanking God that I never got out of the habit of keeping a gun in the car, I double-check that it’s loaded before hopping out and bolting through the side garden.
Sensation rushes back all at once when the shed finally comes into view. I flick the safety off on my gun as I put on even more speed. My heart slams painfully against my ribs, my lungs burning for air, and all I can think of is Riley.
I don’t slow down in the slightest when I reach the shed, instead barreling into the door at full speed.
I hit it hard enough to send it flying open, the wood splintering beneath the force. My shoulder screams in agony, but I pay it no mind as I raise my gun, training the sights right between Bruno’s eyes.
“Back off!” I shout before I even skid to a stop. Riley is chained to a chair to his left, blood dripping from her nose and eyes wide with terror. A massive, wickedly curved blade glints under the single bulb in the shed. My gut twists at the sight of the blood that shines on it. “Fucking stand down, Bruno. It’s over! You move a single inch and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Those empty, shark-like eyes flit between my face and the gun leveled at his head, and even before his scarred lips part in a grin, I know what decision he’s going to make.
“Bruno, stop!” The words come out ragged, dragging up my throat like broken glass. “You’re still my brother, Bruce. Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this.”
His grin twists into a vicious, hateful sneer, and his knuckles go white around the hilt of the knife he’s holding.
“This,” he spits, gesturing between the two of us with the tip of his knife, “is your fault. You stopped being my brother when you left me and Ma to handle the dirty work so you could live it up in your fancy fucking office.”
“I’ll come back,” I promise, breathless and as close to pleading as I’ve been in a long time. “I’ll leave the company to Marcus. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, Bruce, just let her go.”
Dark eyes narrow in a cruel grin.
“Put the gun down,” he says.
It’s both testing and taunting.
My hold on my gun doesn’t waver, and a muscle in my jaw ticks as dread creeps into my bloodstream.
“Put the knife down,” I fire back. “And let Riley go.”
A hateful scoff falls from his scarred lips, and bile rises in my throat.
“Still can’t put your family first,” he whispers furiously.
He digs his heel into the ground and whips around, slicing the blade through the air and aiming for Riley’s throat.
My finger clamps down on the trigger before he gets within two feet of her.
A scream bounces off the walls, ringing in my ears along with the gunshot.
The knife clatters to the floor.
Bruno’s body following.
I almost crumple to the ground along with him at the sight of the hole through his temple, the blood pooling on the ground just inches from Riley’s feet, but the shaky breath she sucks in has me moving on autopilot. She’s shaking in the chair she’s bound to, and I rush forward, almost slipping in the blood staining the concrete.
My mouth is moving; I can feel it, but it seems like forever until I can hear myself speaking.
“Riley, baby, I’ve got you,” I say, my voice shaking almost as much as my hands. “Don’t look at him. Close your eyes. I’m here.”
I have to kneel down to bash the butt of my gun against the lock holding the chains in place, but it shatters after a well-placed blow. Riley yanks her hands free of the chains as soon as she feels the slack in them. She collapses into my arms, sobbing and wheezing in panicked breaths, incoherent words spilling from her lips as I brush her hair out of her face.
Her upper lip is crusted with dried blood from her nose and she’s got a hell of a shiner, but everything else I can see is surface level. A few shallow cuts adorn her arms, and some budding bruises are on her shoulders, but nothing that looks like it could prove fatal. It makes me wish I could kill Bruno all over again.