Shadow Chapter 20 #3
When Rome and Oliver were asked things this time, Rome was the one to give a few more details. He’d been in on most of his dad’s meetings. He babbled on and on. When he finished it, Reaper glanced over at Spawn.
“Was any of that new?”
“Nope. Found all that at their house. Ollie here thought he was sneaky with where he hid his safe. He wasn’t. Not only did I find it, but I cracked it. I haven’t gotten through everything we found, but what Rome shared, I can verify as there.”
Pres considered what he said, then he approached Rome and Oliver.
“I’m holding off at the moment. If you want to ensure the two of you don’t have the same fate as Jock and Jace, answer me.
Tell me everything: contacts, meeting places, top suppliers, you know what I’ve asked.
I need it all. If you do, then you won’t face the fate that Jock and Jace did.
That doesn’t mean you walk free. Only that you’ll find peace less savagely,” Reaper explained again.
“I’ll do it. Ask away,” Rome broke down.
“Shut up! Don’t you dare let them intimidate us like this. They could afford to kill your brother and uncle. They aren’t true bosses. They only knew what we allowed them to know,” his dad admonished.
“Dad, are you fucking crazy? They’re not playing here. They mean what they say. They started at the bottom and are working their way upward. I don’t know about you, but I know we’re not surviving this. And I won’t go out like Uncle Jock and Jace,” Rome insisted.
“You’re a goddamn coward. Stay strong. They won’t do it. I thought I raised at least one of my sons right. I guess I was wrong,” Oliver sneered.
Rome gave his dad an incredulous look, then turned his back on him. “Ask me anything. I’ll tell you what I know.”
While Oliver berated him, yelling for him to shut up, Rome spilled his guts. He told us so much. Thankfully, Spawn was audio recording it on his phone. Forty-five minutes later, Rome ran out of words. He stood there swaying.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” I asked.
“No, but will you tell my sister that I’m sorry? She was the only one smart enough to get away from this fucked-up family. I wish I had.”
“I will,” I told him.
Rome hadn’t noticed that Crusher had come up behind him.
Striking like a snake, our sergeant-at-arms wrapped his mighty arms around Rome’s neck and jerked.
There was an audible snapping sound, and then that was it.
Rome’s body was lowered to the ground and dragged over to where Jock’s and Jace’s were.
Only two to go. Throughout the entire ordeal, Truce sat on the ground, watching. His expression remained impassive. Reaper stood before Oliver.
“Oliver, it’s your turn. Tell us what Rome didn’t know. Your world is gone. Leave with this small dignity. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for your daughter. Aubrielle deserves the peace.”
“My daughter deserves nothing. And you won’t kill me. You need me to tell you the rest. So I guess you overplayed your hand. Checkmate,” Oliver smirked as he laughed.
“No, you’re wrong. We don’t need you. Based on what I hacked into, found at your home, and what Rome shared, any residual we can find.
Oh, wait, I forgot something. When we were at your place, we found something else.
You thought you were clever, having a hidden safe inside the enclosure where those dogs reside.
Who would be crazy enough ever to enter, even if they suspected it was there?
I got all the documents you had hidden in it, too,” Spawn said triumphantly.
Oliver’s face turned gray. “H-how did you know about that?” he asked hoarsely.
“Aubrielle, who else. She was the one to tell me about that hidey-hole you thought no one knew about, not even your sons or brother. And it was her idea to use the dogs. She told us how much you love them,” Spawn added.
That was what broke the last Carter.
“No, no, please, I’ll stop the businesses. I’ll move far away. I’ll pay you. Just don’t kill me.”
“Begging won’t stop it,” Mayhem told him.
“Then, please, break my neck or shoot me in the head. Anything but that.” He pointed to the dogs and shuddered. Abject terror was written all over his face. He was sweating.
“Too late. Goodbye, Oliver,” Reaper said without expression.
Mayhem and Crusher were the ones to drag a screaming, babbling Oliver into the enclosure and leave him.
He tried to scramble up the sides, but he couldn’t.
Pax opened the cage doors again. The two dogs emerged for the last time.
The hatred in their eyes seemed to be greater for this victim than for the prior two.
They hesitated no longer than five seconds before charging.
The din of their growls and barks, along with Oliver’s screams, was deafening.
It took them only minutes to administer the killing bite.
Once he lay there unmoving, Pax’s whistle had the dogs trotting back to their cages, where they happily entered to feast on another large chunk of meat he slid inside.
On the sides of the cages were watering bottles so they could get water.
They happily lay down to eat and enjoy their meal.
“Jesus Christ, that was pretty gruesome. I can’t believe sweet Elle thought of it,” Remus remarked, sounding strangled.
“Poetic justice,” Romulus stated.
There were several more remarks before we gave our attention to the final prisoner. Truce was dragged to his feet by Diesel and Hail. He walked straight to me.
“Let me guess, I’m dessert,” he stated.
“No, we’re not feeding you to the dogs. You’d make those poor things sick. Why do you think we didn’t allow them to feast on the other guys? I have something different in mind for you,” I explained.
While I did, I removed my cut and handed it off. Ink took it. He took my T-shirt when I took it off. Truce’s gaze sharpened. Understanding dawned when he noticed Fiasco step up and begin taping my hands, the way they did for bare-knuckle fighters. Delight entered the fighter’s expression.
“You believe you can beat me? I’m a champion. Being involved in a couple of bar fights or punching a bag in the gym doesn’t qualify you,” he taunted.
“If that’s what you want to believe, that’s your problem. I’ll give you a chance to get prepped. Wouldn’t want you to say it wasn’t fair.” I remarked.
Anger finally showed as he shook loose of my brothers, then he yanked off his shirt, tossing it into the dirt.
He was dressed in jeans and sneakers. I had the jeans on, but my boots were off.
Fiasco didn’t offer him tape. It wouldn’t matter if he busted his hands to hell or not. I went up to Reaper.
“You still want this to go the way you told me before?” he asked.
“I do. Don’t interfere unless I’m about to die. I plan to kill him with my bare hands.”
“Then get it done so we can get rid of the carcasses, and you can go see your woman. She has to be pacing a trough in the floor. Good luck.” Reaper squeezed my shoulder when he finished. I gave him a nod, then faced Truce.
We entered the enclosure because the area inside the fence was kept mowed short, unlike the area outside the fence. Brothers kept up their own yards, while the prospects took care of the common areas, and back here only so far.
I raised my fists and took up a classic fighter’s pose.
Truce did the same. It started like most fights, with us dancing around each other, trying to get the other to commit.
Testing punches were thrown, but easily avoided for the most part.
If he thought he’d make me break first and engage him, he soon discovered he was wrong.
I noticed the way his eyes narrowed on me when it registered I wouldn’t.
Some fighters will engage in a bunch of smack talk. There was a time and place for it, but this wasn’t one of them. I never said a word. My club brothers stood around us, murmuring to each other.
I had the slight advantage of having seen Truce fight that one time.
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
The fight at the Carters’ house had been more a free-for-all.
I’d noted how he punched less forcefully with his left hand.
That wasn’t to say it wasn’t an effective punch, just less so. He hadn’t perfected both sides.
What he wouldn’t know was that I’d been involved in more than a few bar fights.
I was raised by a dad who started teaching me how to box when I was five years old.
From there, we’d progressed to learning other forms of fighting.
Most of my dad’s patients would be shocked to discover that their eye doctor was a very well-versed fighter.
Boxing and all forms of MMA fighting were a passion of Dad’s. He’d passed that along to me.
I sparred with the club, but I rarely let go fully unless it was with someone like Reaper or Mayhem.
It was fun not to care, and when we’d had our fill of testing each other out, the real fight began.
Punches of all kinds were thrown. Some connected on both sides.
We’d done it for a while before Truce tossed in a kick.
I don’t think he expected me to expect one or knew how to counter it.
When I easily dodged and lashed out with a perfectly placed one of my own, his gait and rhythm stuttered for a moment. It was dark, but the buildings were lit by evenly distributed spotlights. Making it light up as if it were almost daylight. Sweat coated my body, but I felt great.
Sure, the punches he landed hurt like hell, but they also quickened my blood.
We’d been at it for a while, and I’d landed more hits than Truce.
On my next pass, I swept his legs out from underneath him.
He landed hard in the grass and dirt. In the background, the dogs’ barks were heard.
Truce rolled over to get away and came to his feet.
Then, his arm flew out, but not in a punch.
Dirt hit my eyes and stung them, immediately blurring my vision.
He thought it would give him the upper hand, and he wasted no time in charging me, taking advantage as I rapidly blinked to clear my vision.
I heard the guys shouting in anger at the dirty move.
However, I could see enough to know when he got close.
As he reached me, I dropped into a crouch, swung my leg, and took him behind the knees, buckling his legs.
As he came down, I let a wicked right punch land on his jaw.
It stunned him, allowing me to blink away the dirt and clear my vision.
And just like that, I was done messing with this fucker.
I showed him my ground game. I knew how to wrestle.
I’d been a high school wrestling champion.
I twisted and dodged, escaping his attempts to hold me.
Eventually, I got the upper hand. I was under him with my legs twined with his, holding him in place while my arms got him into a chokehold.
Truce couldn’t escape. Oh, he tried, but I just kept cranking down harder and harder.
I felt his body weakening, and I knew he was moments from passing out. Before he could, I spoke for the first time since the fight started.
“Aubrielle is mine. You never stood a chance,” I hissed into his ear, then applied the last bit of pressure.
His body went lax a few seconds later. As soon as it did, I gave the final torque, snapping his neck.
His body went limp. I tossed him aside and lay there, taking deep breaths to slow my panting down.
The guys moved Truce’s body away to where the others were.
They had been loaded into the back of the truck that had hauled the dogs here.
Finally, I sat up. I glanced around. My club surrounded me. My gaze landed on the dogs.
“What’re we doing with them?” I asked.
Everyone glanced at each other. None of us liked the idea of killing them. They weren’t responsible for how they’d turned out. But I had no clue if they could be rehabilitated. And if so, who to send them to?
“Pres, I’d like to see if I can help them,” Pax suddenly said.
“Pax, they killed three men,” Reaper reminded him as if he could forget.
“I know, but those men were the ones responsible for their torture. Dogs aren’t inherently killers. They have to be made that way. Even the breeds people fear, such as Pit bulls and Rottweilers, aren’t. I grew up rehabbing dogs like this with my dad.”
Reaper grimaced, saying nothing as he thought it over. He looked at the rest of us.
“What do you think?”
“I hate the thought of killing them, Pres, but I can’t have them getting loose and going after our families,” Lash said. The others murmured the same sentiment, and so did I.
“If you’ll allow me to house them in the storage building, I’ll make sure they’re cared for, and they won’t escape.
If it looks like they can’t be rehabbed, then I’ll take care of them humanely.
But I can tell you this. If you rehab them, they make the best fucking guard dogs.
I had three different ones when I was growing up, and Dad helped restore them.
They wouldn’t attack without provocation.
But let someone who shouldn’t place a hand on us, and they’d defend us in a heartbeat.
And if given an order to do so, they would kill.
Each of those dogs slept in the house with us and in bed with me most nights.
I don’t believe these two are beyond help. They’re only a couple of years old.”
“If he can keep them contained, I’m willing to give him the chance,” Maniac stated.
Slowly, the rest of us agreed, leaving just Reaper. As president, he could overrule us all. It took him a full minute to decide.
“Alright, they’re your responsibility, Pax. Let us know what you need. But if they aren’t retrainable, they need to go. We’ll do it humanely.”
“Thanks, Pres,” Pax said, sounding relieved.
“Okay, as for the rest of us, we need to get these bodies out of here. You know what to do. Shadow, I want you to head home and see Elle. She needs to know this is over.”
“Thanks, everyone. I will.” I replied.
And just like that, the deed was done. I shook hands and then made my way to my bike. I couldn’t wait to see Aubrielle.