34. Diesel
34
DIESEL
“ D o it,” Diesel commanded Striker, and she lit a match, dropping it on the floor in a small puddle of flammable liquid leading straight to Jax’s company building.
He watched in delight as the flames blazed a trail toward its quarry.
It almost instantly enveloped the ground floor’s glass panels, which was mainly what the entire outer shell of the building consisted of. Explosions of blue and green erupted before them, sending shards of glass shooting in every direction.
Diesel laughed with all but hysterical glee, barely wincing as the glass cut his skin in at least a dozen places.
“Sir, why are we doing this?” Striker asked, trying to conceal the concern in her voice but failed miserably.
Diesel was surprised to hear her ask that, considering she had hardly ever been one to turn away from senseless violence. “We are sending a message.”
“But Jax, sir. What will Omara say?” Striker pressed as Diesel leaned his head back, watching the fire climb up the sides of the building, blowing up the glass all the way to the top floor.
“I don't give a fuck what Omara will say. She's dead to me, and so is this family. The only one I've ever been able to trust is myself. A mistake I don't intend to make ever again.” A small droplet of blood dripped into Diesel's eye as he looked toward Striker.
“I've always been faithful to you, sir,” she reminded him.
“Pathetic desperation is not loyalty, Striker. Remember your place… It’s beneath my boot.”
The die has been cast. There's no going back now. Let this be a warning to all who have dared to cross me. Things won't end well for them.
“Careful. If you lose me, you'll have no one,” Striker warned, her eyes resistant but filled with cold certainty.
“Then so be it. I have others who can easily take your place.” Diesel turned his back on Striker and looked over to the rest of his werewolves on standby. “Destroy everything. Leave nothing but ash behind!”