Page 21 of Tripp

“Because your fuckin’ club couldn’t stick to your territory and got greedy. The Reapers intercepted a shipment meant for the Knights, and shit popped off. A few of our men, my father’s men, paid the ultimate price. All because of you.”

The lines on Marek’s face deepened, the redness of his eyes intensifying with the stress barreling around inside him.

The prickling unease in the room heightened, drawing us all into its clutches. I moved closer to Marek. It was intentional. My gut told me he was gonna need my support in the next few minutes.

“That’s not why,” Psych said, coughing up blood before spitting it out, the string of saliva hanging from his lips while he spoke again. “It’s because I fuc . . . ked your. . . .” His words trailed off while he succumbed to another coughing fit. Strangled breaths of air tempted his life, but he pressed on. “Mother,” he finally finished.

Marek’s eyes widened as he took a step back. I read his body language; all he wanted to do was decimate whatever was left of Psych’s body, but he restrained himself. Barely. Marek glanced toward me, a silent plea in his gaze before he turned his attention back on the Reaper.

I was now certain that the Knights Corruption leader would be lost in a haze of rage . . . and perpetual agony.

“You’re lyin’!” I shouted in Marek’s defense.

Completely ignoring me, he continued to focus on the man unraveling in front of us. “I’d say ask your ol’ man, but . . . he’s rottin’ in the ground.” Psych could barely breathe, yet he somehow mustered up enough strength for a sinister laugh. The man was evil incarnate; I was convinced of it now more than ever before.

“You’re just sayin’ this shit to fuck with me because you know I’m gonna snatch your life from you soon, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Marek began pacing, mumbling to himself the entire time.

“I’m not. It’s . . . the truth.” Psych’s chest constricted, more blood spurting from his mouth and hitting the concrete under his feet. “Forcing that bitch wasn’t what fucked with your ol’ man,” he spit out. “It was when she . . . she got kno. . . .” He took a breath. “Knocked up . . . that did it.”

Marek halted all movement and whipped his head toward Psych. I tried to interfere but I was too late. He rushed toward the wall and pressed his forearm across his enemy’s throat, screaming and shouting at him the entire time. I saw the look in Psych’s eyes. He knew he’d gotten to him. He’d managed to pluck at the raveling thread holding Marek together and completely destroy it.

“You worthless piece of shit! You’ll say anything just to goad me. Why? Do you want me to end your pathetic existence? To relieve you of this torture? Because that ain’t gonna happen. So spew all the garbage you want because I know it’s a lie.” Marek took a quick breath. “My mother was only pregnant one time. With me.”

Psych pushed back against Marek’s arm, getting as close to his face as he could. “I know.”

All of a sudden I found it difficult to breathe, my lungs seizing in astonishment. And if I’d felt that way, what the hell was Marek goin’ through?

“You know . . . what . . . that means? Do ya . . .son?” I swore I heard the last piece of Marek’s sanity splinter apart. “I’ll ask ya . . . again.” Psych’s chest convulsed in a short coughing fit, blood dripping off his chin, making him look like a madman. “Do you like . . . fucking family?”

Vehemently shaking his head, Marek released his hold on Psych and backed up, knocking into the rolling cart. “You’re fuckin’ lyin’!” he roared. “You’ll say anything at this point.”

“’fraid it’s true. Son.”

“Stop saying that!” Marek cried out, unraveling further with every second. “No,” he whisper-shouted. “No, it’s not true. You would’ve said something before today. You would’ve tortured my ol’ man with that shit.” Marek’s eyes darkened the longer he engaged Psych.

“You th . . . think I’d ever claim yo . . . you? You’re the fuckin’ enemy. The sh . . . shit under my shoe,” he sputtered, more blood escaping his mouth.

“Shut the hell up, Reaper!” I shouted, stepping closer with a knife gripped tightly in my hand. His eyes flew to the weapon and when I took another step toward him, he grinned. He wanted me to stab him, probably prayed for it, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of killing him. For as much as I wanted Marek to end him right then, I knew he’d do it when he saw fit.

“Tell me . . . somethin’ . . . son,” Psych goaded, “how does it . . . feel knowin’ you were . . . fuckin’—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled, hoping my shouts would drown out his garbled words. But they didn’t. Nothing would stop Psych from having the final word, pushing the president of the Knights into madness.

“Your sister?” Psych finished, grinning like the biggest fool before his head fell in utter exhaustion.

Tripp

Everything happened so fast I didn’t have time to intervene, which was probably for the best, all things considered. I didn’t want to be the one to step in and try to calm Marek down enough to reason with him. Otherwise,I’dprobably be the one sucking in my last breath.

In the blink of an eye, Marek grabbed a knife from the cart and barreled toward Psych, the old man’s eyes widening a fraction before the corners of his thin, cracked lips curved into an ominous grin.

“Marek!” I shouted, not quite sure what else I was gonna say after calling out his name. Whatever he did to Psych was justified, but I feared if he killed him now he would never get the answers he needed. But maybe he didn’t care about that. Hell, he didn’t appear as if he cared about anything but snatching Psych’s life and sending him straight to hell. Exactly where he belonged.

His arms were a blur of movements, blood spurting forth from Psych’s body so fast his life source coated the floor in mere seconds, expanding and covering ground so quickly I had to take a step back or the crimson river would have surrounded my boots.

Marek had finally lost it, his hand plunging the knife into the Reaper over and over again, ripping open the thinly veiled skin covering his organs. At one point, soon after he first attacked, Psych’s bowels started to spill from his body. But that didn’t stop Marek. It seemed to only fuel his rage, pushing him beyond the scope of sanity. Surprisingly, Psych was still alive, his short breaths few and far between, his lungs amazingly still functioning. That was until Marek plunged the knife through Psych’s chest, directly into his heart. Twisting the blade ensured our enemy would leave this world in the next few seconds.

When he finally exhaled his last connection to this life, Psych’s entire body went slack, pulling on the chains and testing their hold. Dropping the knife to the floor, Marek finally retreated until his back hit the wall, his eyes on Psych the entire time, as if he weren’t completely convinced he’d died. My eyes followed my prez’s steps. When he finally slid down the wall and hung his head in his hands, his mind, body and soul completely defeated, only then did I glance over at the state of our enemy.

---