Chapter 11 Judge #3
“You,” he breathes, the word trembling. “They confirmed it. The drive-by… You died. They confirmed it.” He takes a jerky step back, pointing a shaking finger. “You’re supposed to be dead. You shouldn’t be standing here. You shouldn’t be breathing.”
He talks to me like I’m an apparition, a vengeful spirit that’s clawed its way out of the grave just for him. And in a way, I am. Apparently, he didn’t get the update that I got brought back.
Then his eyes slide past me, landing on Trouble. The fear on his face curdles, transforming into pure, unadulterated rage. The twitching stops, replaced by a rigid, hateful tension.
“Now you,” he snarls, his voice gaining a shred of its old venom. “I know you’re alive. I should have put you in the ground myself. This is all your fault! You stole from me! You let those girls go! You ruined everything!”
He begins ranting about debts that need to be paid. Fear, which I could never imagine fitting inside this man, starts pouring out.
His focus is entirely on Trouble, his body coiling like a spring. I see his right shoulder dip, his hand starting to snake behind his back, toward the small of his spine.
The world slows down, freezing in place as my body moves on its own. I lunge forward, not as a man, but as a projectile. Not to protect Trouble, but to keep this bastard from taking another life.
His reign is over.
A gunshot explodes, impossibly loud in the enclosed space. The bullet doesn’t hit me. It tears through the space where my chest had been a split-second before, punching into the wall behind me. I don’t feel the heat this time. I only feel the cold, clarifying fury.
I don’t tackle him. I don’t wrestle for the gun. My right hand, already scarred and swollen from the earlier fight, closes into a fist. I put my entire weight, every nightmare, every moment of panic, every single second I spent jumping at shadows, into the motion.
The punch connects with his jaw.
It’s a sound I’ll remember every time my eyes close. A wet, sickening crack of bone and cartilage. His head snaps to the side, a spray of spittle and blood arcing through the dusty air. He stumbles back, his eyes rolling white, the pistol clattering from his limp fingers.
He doesn’t go down. Not yet. He’s a fickle thing, but he’s got a solid footing.
Good.
This is the man who threatened my home. Who made me feel weak in my own skin. This is the man who threatened Penelope. The thought of his filthy, drug-addled gaze even glancing in her direction sends a fresh wave of incandescent rage through me.
This is the man who has haunted me.
And I’m angry. Angry at him for what he did. Angrier at myself for allowing the fear he planted to fester and grow for so long. Angry at the pathetic, disappointing creature he turned into.
Someone who is happy to let his brothers sacrifice themselves in order to take out a threat. Someone who doesn’t appreciate life doesn’t deserve to breathe air.
He’s dazed, a low moan escaping his broken mouth. I don’t give him the chance. I step in, my chest burning with the force of my next breath, a ragged, fire-filled gasp.
My left fist follows, a brutal hook to his ribs. I feel them give way, a series of pops and crunches under my knuckles. He doubles over, gagging before sinking to the concrete flood.
I grab a handful of his greasy hair, yanking his head up. His face is a mask of blood and shock. There’s no titan here. No king. Just a pathetic, broken man who should’ve been put down a long time ago.
My right hand draws back again. “This is for every decision you’ve made that has hurt one of mine.”
For Eliza getting twisted up in a debt her father owed to him. For Haven and Trouble getting caught up in an attempt to survive in this shit town. For Destiny and all those women he tried to sell off for profit. For Diesel and Ruby, trying to consume them in flames. For scaring the love of my life.
I drive my fist into his face again, my fingers aching in a way that isn’t painful, but with relief.
And above all, for me.
Blood, warm and slick, seeps between my fingers. I feel the gritty grind of shattered teeth against my knuckles. He collapses, a boneless heap on the polished concrete, finally still.
Reeling back to hit him again, just to make sure he’s dead, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Hissing between my teeth, I jerk to find Trouble there.
“They’re not going to be able to recognize him at this rate to understand your message.” Releasing me, he rubs the back of his neck. “You alright?”
My hand curls and uncurls. “He deserved to be tortured for his crimes. I’m weak for killing him too quickly.”
But that’s not the man I am anymore. The last time I tortured a man, it ate at me for weeks every time Penelope smiled at me.
Trouble’s snort irritates me, and he’s smart to step away. “Trust me, I don’t think anyone is going to think you’re weak after seeing him.”
Looking down at Blaze, I see his point. Not just bloodied, his face is barely able to contain its shape. It’s a good thing I stopped when I did.
Grabbing Blaze by his arm, I drag him out. Feeling my pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through my blood, it’s only silence that surrounds us.
There are no longer bullets flying, signalling the end of this fight.
It doesn’t take long to find where most of the members of this clubhouse are. Trails of red guide us right where I need to be.
Bodies litter the floor. Some of them are drowning in their own puddles of blood. Some, zip tied, unable to do anything but watch.
Diesel and his prospects are playing babysitter, watching over the survivors. He glances over at me when he notices my arrival. Ripper follows his gaze, and he looks between me and the body I’m dragging.
My VP doesn’t crack a joke to fill the stale air. Instead, he looks at me in amazement. Just like he did when we were younger.
Dropping Blaze’s body on the ground, I release the growl that’s been clawing to get out.
“Crimson Road bows today, or it burns. Choose fast.” Snapping the order, I return their glares with one of my own. “Any brother who stands with me keeps his life. Anyone who stands against me loses it.”
Standing firm, I take them all in. Drinking in the potential for growth, for the ability to pull something out of the ashes, my head jerks when one of them struggles against their bindings.
One of them growls back, snapping his teeth like a wild dog. “Fuck you.”
I don’t have any need for wild dogs. I need obedient ones who are willing to protect their brothers. Who can be taught.
“Ripper.” Looking over at my VP, I scowl at his smile.
He makes his way toward me, already reaching behind him. Pulling out his pistol, he slides it into my palm.
Pointing at the snarling dog, I don’t think twice about pulling the trigger. The shot rings out, echoing in the silent room. Blood splatters against my boot, and I blink before looking at the others.
I need to offer second chances. Even if half of these men don’t deserve it, I need to be humane. There has to be some of them who want a better life. Something to hold pride in.
I’m not a monster. Not anymore. I traded that in for a woman far out of my reach.
Ripper plucks the gun out of my hand when he realizes I’m getting lost in my thoughts.
“Does anyone else have an issue?” He waves around his gun, looking around in case anyone is hesitating.
“No? Fantastic. So, when the rest of your crew shows up once word gets around, you’re going to make sure everyone knows this bastard is dead.
” He nudges Blaze’s leg with his foot. “You’re not going to retaliate.
We’re going to be best fucking friends by the end of the week. ”
Tearing my gaze away, I look at Trouble. “Grab their VP and their hacker. They’re coming with us. Make sure Warden is still alive. We’re going to need more wheels.”
“We can check their garage. We’ll find something.” Nodding his chin, he turns, disappearing.
“When I return, I don’t want to see a single hint of Crimson Road in this hellhole.” Growling the words, I jerk my chin toward the others. “Let’s go. I think we got our message through.”
If not, I have no doubt that I’ll return and set everything ablaze. If I can’t claim this place as mine, I’ll ensure there’s nothing left for others to seize.