Page 11 of Breaking Boston

"Did you fucking see that?" Donovan growls, his gaze laser-focused on Boston's window, watching that fuck Hayden swipe his thumb across her bottom lip.

"I did, and I didn't fucking like it," I bite back, anger bubbling up inside of me.

He pulls on his mask, the white, glowing X's blinding my eyes as I stare into them.

Once I snap out of it, I pull my mask over my head, feeling complete, knowing thatnobodyknows who I am under this thing.

They don't know that my name isLux Kingsley, and that's just the name the fucking hospital gave me because they hadno ideawho I was.

They don't know that I was left on the goddamn doorstep of a dope dealer's house when I was six months old.

They don't know that I was beaten and molested byeveryfucking foster home I was in until I sought my freedom at sixteen.

They don't know thathalfthe bodies found in the river or the alleys are my doing.

And they don't know that I've been stalking the girl I've been in love with for as long as I can fucking remember.

There's a reason why no one knows any of this. Because they don't understand the darkness that has consumed us, the fucking things we've done to survive, and the demons that haunt us every single damn day.

But now, as we sit on the fire escape, watching the betrayal unfold in front of us, I can't help but feel that maybe there's a chance for us to make things right—in our own way. We can find a way to confront our past, to face our demons, to make amends—andto get revenge on those who've fucking wronged us, crossed us, and even looked at us the wrong fucking way.

We're not going to stop until they're all dead.Until Boston is with us, where she belongs. We're on a fucking mission here. It's game time, motherfuckers.

I turn to Donovan, determination flaring in my eyes as spit pools in the corners of my lips. "We need to make things right, D. We can't keep living like this. We need to find a way out, and we need to do it together."

He nods, solemnity in his gaze. "I'm with you, King.Alwayshave been,alwaysfucking will be." With that, we adjusted our masks and vanished into the night, determined to find our way out of the darkness and into the pitch black.

We move through the shadows, feeling the weight of our past sins and the burden of our own tortured souls. But there's a glimmer of hope in the fucking darkness—a sense of purpose that propels us forward. We'll find a way to make things right and seek redemption for our own twisted hearts.

Boston's betrayal has ignited a fucking fire within us. Our quest for redemption is now our driving force, and as we disappear into the night, the city's ominous embrace can no longer hold us fucking captive. We are on a mission to right the wrongs done to us and to carve out a new path for ourselves, nomatter the cost, no matter who it costs. We'll make our fucking mark on this city, even if it's painted in blood.

We're coming for you, Boston. And this time, we're not backing down.We had been at her mercy for far too long, but not anymore. Now she'll be at ours.

That's right. We're not just a product of our past. We are the architects of our own fate. And this city will be forced to reckon with us with the force we unleash, the devastation. It's time to even the score and to fight our way out of this dark, unforgiving world.

The city may have had its grip on us, but its oppressive hold will be fucking shattered by our relentless determination—our will to come out on top. We'll carve out our own fate, andnothingandno onewill stand in our fucking way.

We're coming for you, Boston. And this time, it's fucking game time, pretty girl.

DONOVAN

I know King isn't too happy about seeing Boston with that football prick—the same one who's been bullying her for the last four years. I'm fucking pissed too, but he'll get his.

We stalk through the night, feeling one with the terror-filled screams and random gunfire echoing around us. We cross the street, masks on, hoods up, heads down. Nothing is said as we walk, cigarette after cigarette, being inhaled to try to calm theanxiety threatening to fucking cripple us. It works for a while, but we always need more—more than the nicotine can do for us. We need to feel numb… to feel nothing at all.

"Pit stop?" I ask, my hands trembling at the thought of the needle piercing my skin, making everything feel better.

"Yeah, but I don't want to miss that fucker, so we need to hurry the fuck up," King whispers, picking the lock on the apartment below Boston's. We can hear everything from here, and we should know; it's been one of our go-to spots since we started watching her.

Right away, we sling our backpacks off our backs, retrieving our kits so we can get started on mixing up our shots. I do a little more than usual, wanting to feel on cloud nine for when I slit this motherfucker's throat. The brown liquid draws up easily, putting me at ease part of the way. I silently say a prayer to the fucking devil, hoping I find a vein without an issue. Using for as long as I have, I'm lucky to have any veins left; they're all scarred or collapsed, fucking useless.

King hits right away, and before I can do mine, I have to slap him awake a few times, hoping his ass doesn't overdose this time. I swear, he tries to overdose on purpose just so he doesn't have to deal with the pain anymore. But I can't let him die. I just can't.

After getting angry because I can't find a vein, I hand my needle to King, hoping the thick, dark blood doesn't clog it before I can shoot it.

"Lay down and hold your breath," he orders in a wicked slurred tone, barely audible.

I lay down and look up, catching his gaze before I hold my breath. "Please don't fucking miss this time. Last time I had a huge bump on my neck and everyone thought it was a fucking tumor."

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