Page 59 of Raptor

With a firm grip on his now-useless arm, I haul him to his feet. He sways unsteadily at first but quickly regains his footing, his eyes never leaving mine as he glares back at me with grit and defiance. "What are you going to do?" he taunts, trying to mask the fear in his voice.

I draw back my arm and unleash my fury with a powerful punch that connects solidly with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards. The sound of bone against bone echoes through the air.

He continues to taunt me, but it’s no use. His words mean fuck all to me. I unleash my rage upon him, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head back. Exposing his vulnerable throat, I deliver another vicious punch, this time targeting his sternum. The force of the blow sends him crashing to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

I stand over him, towering above him. I gaze down at the man who has been terrorizing the woman I love. The pain he caused my woman still burns within me like a raging fire. I won’t stop, not until I kill him.

As he struggles to get back on his feet, I’m in such a dark haze that I don’t even hesitate to slam my fist into his face.

Blood splatters across my knuckles as I strike, each blow bringing me closer to the release of all the pain and anger that has been festering inside me for far too long. But still, he refuses to stay down, continuing to defy me with his eyes full of hatred. It's time for his resolve to crumble.

I lash out with a series of kicks and punches, each one harder than the last. I'm relentless, losing myself in the violence as I pummel him into submission. I can see the life draining from his eyes, his breath growing ragged and shallow. It's only a matter of moments before the fight will be over.

Finally, he's lying motionless on the ground. A small part of me wonders if Mallory’s nightmares will still come even with his death. But she’s not alone. She won’t face them by herself if they do come.

"He's dead," Maverick says, stepping forward. "Mallory and Shay won't have to worry about him any longer. Now it's time to ensure that he's never found."

I leave Maverick be. He's been doing this shit for years. He's known as the Cleaner, and he's just as methodical as the Eraser. Both men are fucking ruthless in getting rid of their enemies.

I put my cut back on and take my seat. Pyro hands me a bottle of beer and I take it, before I sink into my seat and get set to enjoy the show.

Maverick sets up his equipment, a menacing bone saw clutched in one hand. He towers over the lifeless body of Micah with an insane grin on his face. With precise movements, he begins to hack away at Micah's limbs, sawing them off one by one. It's a disturbing sight, but I can't look away as the sound of bones cracking fills the air.

Each severed limb is placed carelessly on the ground, like a fucking serial killer with his trophies on display. No one makes a sound as he continues. We’re all watching with rapt fascination.

As Maverick finishes his grisly work, he places the bone saw back into its case with a satisfied smirk. Streams of blood flow freely from the stumps of Micah's limbs, pooling on the grass beneath him. The smell of iron and flesh lingers heavy in the air. It’s crazy, but at the same time, I’m unable to tear my gaze from the scene in front of me.

“What now?” Wrath asks, intrigue coating his words.

“Now,” Maverick says with a wolfish grin, his eyes glinting with malice, “I make sure that his body will never be found.” His movements are calculated and purposeful as he makes his way toward the shed. When he returns, he's carrying two large barrels, their metal surfaces gleaming in the dim light.

“The fuck are they for?” Wrath questions, his voice tinged with both disgust and curiosity.

“Wait and see, you impatient fuck,” Maverick snaps, his tone laced with irritation.

As he approaches the barrels, I can't help but wonder what else the barrels have been used for. I've heard the gruesome tales of what the Cleaner does—using strong chemicals to dissolve bodies until there's no trace left behind. It's a lengthy and disturbing process, one I have no doubt Maverick has used many times before throughout the country.

I sip on my drink as I watch him put Micah’s limbs into the barrels. It’s fucking weird, but I have to admit that these Irish fuckers are hardcore.

Maverick disappears for a moment, presumably back into the shed. When he returns, he's whistling an eerie tune that I can't quite place, but it sounds hauntingly similar to The Doors' "The End". In his hands, he carries a massive gallon bottle, no doubt filled with his chemical concoction.

The sound of him pouring the fluid into the barrels is mixed with the hissing and spitting of the fire. It just adds to the craziness of the night. Once he's finished, he slams the lids shutwith a satisfying click and a wicked grin spreads across his face. Micah's fate has been sealed, his disappearance hidden within these barrels. No one is going to find Micah. Not fucking ever.

I stare at Maverick and realize that his laid back attitude is just a facade. He’s a ruthless killer. It's no wonder this guy has a reputation for being one of the most ruthless and feared figures in the criminal underworld.

I rise to my feet. "It's time to go home. I appreciate your help, Maverick."

He shakes his head as he closes the gap between us. "We all dropped the ball on Mallory. We fucked up and she was left to deal with the pain from our failings. You know that whatever you need, I'm here."

I hold out my hand and he shakes it. "The same goes for you," I tell him, meaning the words I say. I may not be the most forthcoming but Maverick is a great ally, and I'll have his back no matter what.

He grins. "Go home, Rap, let Mallory know the cunt is gone. Maybe now she'll be able to mourn Jayne. Now she can live."

He's right. Maybe the knowledge that Micah's dead will help her out of the depths of her pain.

It's going to take time, but she's not alone. I'm going to be with her every fucking step of the way.

Chapter 25

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