Chapter 30 #2
“Hm.” I couldn’t muster anything else. The heat of my blood rose with every word he said. By the time he finished, it was damn near boiling underneath my skin. The fact that the bastard put his hands on Jayden was enough to piss me off, but to hold a gun to his head? I was practically seeing red.
“They left me alone after that,” Jayden continued. “My body hurt like hell, but I managed to make it home in one piece.”
“And who else, besides your mom, knows about this?”
“My uncle, but only because my mom told him.”
Nodding, I rose from my seat. “Good. Keep it that way.” I turned on my heel and headed back towards the doorway.
“Wait, where are you going?” Jayden asked. His chair scraped against the floor, and a moment later, his footsteps were trailing behind mine.
“Like you said: you’re fine, so I can go now.”
“Hold on,” he said. He grabbed my arm, trying to cease my steps. “I didn’t mean it.”
Reluctantly, I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. “Then why’d you say it?”
He cast his gaze to the ground. “I was just…I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you thinking I was weak. Especially with how much work you’ve been pouring into me. I didn’t want you thinking you’ve been wasting your time. I didn’t want you to give up on me.”
I sighed. His words reminded me of ones I used after spazzing out on Tony when I was younger.
The only difference was instead of fearing being perceived as weak, I was afraid of not being good enough.
Of being discarded and traded for someone new - someone better.
I pushed his buttons on purpose to prove to myself that he was going to leave.
That he was no better than my father. Yet, every time I did, he gripped my ass up and reminded me he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Don’t worry, kid,” I told Jayden, reciting the same words Tony used to tell me. “You’re stuck with me - whether you like it or not.” Somehow the words felt stronger knowing there was blood shared between us.
A tiny smile pulled at Jayden’s lips. “Good,” he murmured.
“But, I really do have to go. There’s some business I need to take care of.”
Jayden’s face fell as he read between my words. “Max, you don’t have to-”
I yanked my arm out of his grasp and continued to the front door. “Stay in the house for the rest of the night and keep your mouth shut about yesterday.”
I didn’t give him an opportunity to agree before I was out the door. If he knew what was good for him, he’d do as I told him.
I went back to my car and grabbed a few silencers out of the trunk.
As I walked up the street towards the building on the corner where Elias’ men hung out, I motioned my hand for my men. In an instant, I heard the slam of doors and footsteps following behind me.
“Everything okay, boss?” I recognized Wesley’s voice. He and Tysir must’ve been on watch tonight. A great coincidence.
“Just cover me,” I told him. I didn’t have the patience to explain right now.
The men sitting out front of the building stood up at the sight of our figures approaching. “What’s up, Guerra,” one of them greeted with a sinister smile. “How’s the younger one doing? I heard-” My knuckles were ramming into his mouth before he could finish.
The other man at the door reached for his gun, but stopped at the clicking of Tysir and Wesley’s. Outnumbered and intimidated, he held his hands up.
As the man I punched stumbled, I grabbed him by the neck and shoved him up against the wall. “Where’s Clyde’s bitch ass?” I asked him.
“Fuck you,” the bastard spat, getting blood on my face. “Without your father, you’re just a weak little-” He choked on his words as I took my gun out of my waistband and shoved it into his mouth.
“Finish that sentence,” I challenged.
Fear sparked in his eyes. Still, he shook his head. “You won’t,” he garbled around the metal.
I raised a brow. “You think so?”
He started to nod. A bullet was down his throat before his chin could reach his chest. I was really tired of these stupid ass motherfuckers underestimating me. They wanted to keep fucking around with me, so now they’re going to find out how well I can live up to my father’s name.
“Holy shit,” Wesley said. “Max, are you cool?”
Ignoring him, I let go of the dead asshole and waltzed straight inside.
My finger clicked on the trigger as if it were a button on a video game controller, sending bullets flying through the open hall and into the men peeking into the hallway with their own weapons drawn.
Not one was able to pull the trigger fast enough to fire back.
Too eager to be a hero, their limbs were caught in the rain of bullets and they all dropped like the flies they were.
Behind me, I heard Wesley let out more swears under his breath.
I stomped down the hall, glancing into the rooms. Each one held nothing but white bricks, cash - and now dead bodies in the doorways.
Scowling, I turned on my heel at the end of the hall. There, Tysir held the other man who’d been guarding the door by his collar. His already wide eyes grew into saucers and a tremble ran through his spine as he met my livid gaze.
Holding his hands up, he said, “Look, if this is about what happened to your brother, I swear I had nothing-”
“Where’s Clyde?” I cut him off.
“He’s not here. This is just a stash site. He hangs out at one of the pubs a few blocks down - Terry’s I think it’s called.”
I nodded. “Tysir, Wesley, call the clean up crew and take all their shit - money, product, whatever the fuck they have of value.”
“What about you?” Tysir asked. “You can’t go up to the pub by yourself.”
“Watch me,” I told him as I started making my way down the path from the house.
I stormed up the street towards the pub the man had mentioned. I recognized the name from passing it on the drive to Jayden’s place.
The neon glow from the lights in the windows illuminated the sidewalk. The gleam gave me a perfect view of the patrons coming in and out of the pub. Coincidentally, Clyde’s ass happened to be one of the ones exiting as I came close to the establishment.
I followed a few steps behind him to the dark, empty parking lot.
Oblivious to my presence, he dug in his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Shit,” he muttered as he patted his pockets.
“Need a light?” I asked.
“Yeah, actually,” he said as he turned around. Instead of a match, he was met with the mouth of my gun. The metal slapped him straight across his face. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards. “Ah, what the-”
I kicked him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. “You put your hands on my fucking brother? A fucking gun on his head?” I kicked him again, this time in the ribs. “Must be out of your goddamn mind.”
“Guerra? Guerra! Guerra, wait! I- I can-”
My shoe went into his mouth, shutting him up. “Too late for that shit!”
He tried to wiggle backwards - away from me. “No, no, it wasn’t my idea! I swear! I was just following-”
I grabbed his ankle and yanked him towards me.
His torso flew back, and his head smacked against the concrete.
Kneeling over him, I raised my gun up over my head and brought it down against his face.
“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” I snarled, hitting him with every word.
The red pulsing around my vision grew around my view, blurring out his face until the color was the only thing I saw.
I couldn’t see underneath it, so my other senses kicked in.
Hearing his pleas and screams. Feeling his blood splatter against my hands and face.
Eventually, the former stopped. But, my fists didn’t. I kept hitting him over and over and over again. I wanted him to feel every ounce of pain he made my brother feel. More if possible.
No one was ever going to hurt someone I cared about. Not again. Losing one person was enough. I couldn’t afford to lose another.
“Max,” Wesley’s voice pulled out of the red-rimmed hole I’d fallen into. “Max, stop.”
A hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping it from slamming against Cloyd’s face. The grip tightened as my arm instinctively tried to break out of the grasp and go for him again.
“Stop,” Tysir repeated. “It’s done, Max.”
I blinked a few times, unblurring my vision. As it cleared, I was met with a horrific sight. Underneath me, Clyde’s face was no longer recognizable. All of his bones were crushed inward. Blood oozed from the holes on his face. What I could make of his mouth was scrunched up in anguish.
Clyde was dead.