Page 142 of Rest In Pieces

“I’ll kill you before I let him have you.”

I tense as Havoc and G step out of the trees with their guns aimed our way.

“It’s over, Jack. Let her go. You know you don’t want to hurt her,” G says, keeping his voice steady as they both step closer.

“I don’t want to, but it doesn’t mean I won’t. Take your shot. I dare you, but I’ll kill her before your bullet ever hits me.”

“Amity hasn’t done anything to you. She’s always been nice. She was your friend, Jack.”

“She was mine first, biker trash. And you tried to steal her from me. No, I don’t fucking think so.”

“Alright, Jack. Alright. Why don’t you tell me what to do? If you want me to break up with Amity, that’s fine. It’s done. I was getting bored anyway.” He looks at me as he says it. Thoughhis expression gives nothing away, I know it’s a lie. He wouldn’t have come for me otherwise.

“Bullshit. I know how intoxicating she is. She’s like a drug you can’t quit. The ultimate high. I know because she’s been my addiction since the moment I first saw her.”

I’ve used similar words to describe G. Is that what love is? Some kind of insanity that makes people lose their fucking minds?

“That was before Monica. Amity was just a way to make Monica jealous, and it worked. You saw the post. We’re together now.” He looks at me, the bleakness of his expression making my heart ache as he tries to convince a madman he doesn’t love me.

The problem is, it’s in his eyes for the world to see.

“I’m sorry, Amity. It’s not you. You’re just not Monica.”

Jack pulls me with him as he moves us away from Havoc and G. “You expect me to believe this bullshit? Fuck you. Fuck all of you.”

“It’s true. I don’t want either of you to die, but that’s all there is to it.” He lowers his gun to the ground and stands back up with his hands up. “No hard feelings, Jack. The best man won. Don’t you want to taste her at least once? Feel how tight she is when you slip inside her? Because I have to tell you, Jack, it feels like fucking heaven.”

“You motherfucker.” Jack swings the gun toward G.

“No!” I scream, shoving his arm so the shot goes wide.

Havoc fires, hitting Jack. Jack stumbles, letting me go. I spring to run—but Jack grabs my wrist and yanks me back.

“Amity!” G roars as the ground disappears and the wind whips past us. It takes me a second to realize that I’m falling. Jack pulled me over the edge of the cliff.

I scream as I fall, reaching out and grabbing hold of the safety rope, but Jack’s still holding on to me. When I stop moving,I take all of my weight and Jack’s. My shoulder pops, and something in my wrist snaps, making me scream again.

“Amity!” G yells from above, but I can’t answer. My breath’s trapped in my lungs as waves of pain threaten to suffocate me.

Jack, clearly running on adrenaline, grabs the waistband of my pants, releasing my wrist and making me cry out again. I can’t hold us both. I’m not even sure I can hold myself anymore.

He tries to climb up my body and grab for the rope, but it’s just out of his reach. Through the pain, I realize my mother’s rosary has slipped free from my shirt. With gritted teeth, I reach for it with my free arm and yank the bottom of the cross off, freeing the blade.

I silently pray as I feel my grip on the rope slip.

Fueled by anger, I scream and swipe the blade across Jack’s face. He recoils in shock, and as he pulls his head back, I slash across his neck.

He lets go of me to grab his neck, and his eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. I watch him fall, silently screaming as the life drains out of him. I wonder if the ground will kill him or if he’ll be dead before he hits it.

I shove the blade into my pocket, sobbing when my arm jolts, and cry out as I slip further down the rope, burning my palm.

“Amity! Hold on, baby. You can do this. I know you’re hurt and scared, but I need you to fight through it.”

My feet scramble against the wall of rock, trying to find something. My foot connects with one of the cams, and I step onto it, taking some of the weight off my arm, and sob in relief.

I look up and see Havoc and G staring down at me. I’ve fallen about a hundred feet—maybe less—but with the way my arm is, I might as well have fallen a thousand.

“I can’t climb up, G. My arm’s fucked.”

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