Page 75 of Pit

Seconds later, we’re standing outside with Atlas gripping Greg’s upper arm tightly. He steers him back towards his house.

Greg reluctantly unlocks the front door and the smell of shit hits us immediately. “What the hell is that?” asks Atlas, pulling his shirt up over his nose and shoving Greg into the house.

I do the same as we head inside. The place is a mess with refuse discarded carelessly on the floor amongst dog faeces. An elderly-looking pit bull stands when we enter the living room, and I give his head a stroke. He closes his eyes and nuzzles against me. He’s underweight and covered in sores. “This dog needs to see a vet,” I snap.

“I don’t have the money for that,” he replies, flopping into an armchair. “He’s on his last legs anyway. So, what’s that miserable cow have to say?”

“Do you remember Steven Kendal?” I ask, putting a cigarette in my mouth and lighting it. He watches me longingly.

“No.”

I hold out the lit cigarette to him, and he goes to take it, but I pull it out of reach. “Think.”

“The kid Tessa dated?”

“The kid you paid to date her,” I correct.

He smiles, nodding. “That’s right. She needed a good fuck to lighten up. Apparently, she was hard work and he got sick of her.”

“Do you know he bullied her for years?”

“What’s this all got to do with me?” Greg asks impatiently.

I take a long drag on the cigarette and slowly release the smoke into the air. “Cos when she told me about it, I got pissed.”

“So?”

“And when I get pissed, I do stupid shit.”

“Like turn up to her dad’s place to whine?” he asks, smirking.

I pull out my blade and slam it into his chest without missing a beat. His eyes widen, and I lean in close to his ear. “No, like kill people,” I whisper.

“Christ, Pit. A warning would’ve been nice,” mutters Atlas.

“What’s up, the sight of blood make you sick?” I ask with a grin. I withdraw the knife, and Greg grabs my wrist, trying to push me away as I drive it in a second time, straight into his cold heart. “Rest in hell, you sick fucker.”

I clean my knife on his trousers and stick it back in my inside pocket. The dog is watching me with his big eyes, and I groan. “I’m on a bike,” I tell him like he understands.

“We can’t take that thing back,” snaps Atlas.

“I can’t leave it.”

“He’ll probably eat the guy’s body and thrive,” he says with a laugh.

“I can’t let him eat that disgusting fucker. He’s coming with us.”

“How?”

“I’ll sit him between my legs. We’ll just have to keep stopping for breaks.”

“Great,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “All this shit for a woman you ain’t even claiming.”

“This was my redemption for what I did to her,” I admit, scooping the dog into my arms because he appears too weak to walk far.

“Let’s hope she wasn’t too attached to her dad,” he mutters, following me out.

Chapter Twenty

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