The man has been married three times in the last ten years and hasn’t spoken to my mother except through lawyers for longer than that. But he never misses monthly drinks at the club with his Havoc brothers, even though it’s been over a quarter century since they graduated.
Havoc House is for life.
I can feel his glare boring into my back, even though he’s five hundred miles away. “We can’t leave her here.”
“The chick is breathing. Head wounds always bleed a lot. She’ll probably wake up in a few hours with a wicked hangover.” Brady’s voice is cold, but his gaze lingers on the girl’s face for a brief moment before he turns away. “I’m leaving, and I suggest you follow my lead.”
Brady stands and brushes off his pants, seeming more annoyed at the dirt on his knees than anything else. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strides away.
I stare down into the girl’s face. One eye is so swollen that she probably couldn’t open it, even if she were awake. There are scratches and dark bruises all over her body, and her leg is bent at an awkward
This is what it looks like when you beat someone so badly that you’re hoping it kills them.
My phone grows hot in my hand, the screen still on because I started dialing and never finished. The 9 and 1 taunt me, waiting for me to delete them or press just one additional number. These sorts of things are easy to track. It isn’t as if I’m going to find a payphone in the middle of the forest. If I make this call, eventually it will come back on me.
There won’t be any taking it back.
The girl makes a choking sound, liquid rattling in her lungs as she tries to breathe.
I’m no doctor, but I know that sound isn’t a good one.
I look down at my phone again and decide.
Havoc House is for life.