Page 91 of Bozo

Without warning, Jer's fist connects with Hammond's face, the crack of bone echoing in the small room. Hammond's head snaps back, a groan escaping his lips.

"That's for coming after my family," Jer growls.

He continues his assault, each blow punctuated by a reason. For the lives ruined, for the chaos caused, for thinking he could play God with people's lives.

By the time Jer steps back, Hammond is barely conscious, his face a mess of blood and bruises. Mike is sobbing quietly in the corner, unable to look away.

Jer turns to me, wiping blood from his knuckles. "He's all yours now."

I step forward, my heart pounding. This is the man responsible for Gráinne's suffering, for the fear and pain she endured. I want him to suffer, to feel even a fraction of what she felt.

"You know," I say, my voice low and dangerous, "I've been thinking about this moment for a long time. Imagining all the ways I could make you pay for what you did."

Hammond's eyes flutter open, focusing on me with difficulty. "Do... your worst," he manages to slur.

I lean in close, my voice barely above a whisper. "My worst? No, Damien. I'm going to do to you exactly what you did to Gráinne. I'm going to make you feel helpless, terrified, unsure if you'll live to see another day."

I straighten up, looking at Jer. "We're going to need some supplies."

Jer smiles, and within minutes, there’s an assortment of knives at my disposal. I pick up the sharpest and begin to stab shallow holes over Hammond’s body. Not enough to kill him, but enough to hurt like a motherfucker.

Hours pass, and the fucker’s almost dead. He’s been slowly bleeding out as I’ve stabbed him. “You shouldn’t have touched her,” I growl as I slide the knife into his stomach. “You should never have gone after her.”

When it's finally over, I turn to Mike, who flinches away from my gaze. "Your turn," I say, my voice flat and emotionless.

Mike's eyes widen in terror. "Please," he whimpers. "I didn't... I never wanted?—"

"Shut up," I snap, cutting him off. "You had your chance to make this right. You could have helped Gráinne. You could have told us the truth from the start. But you didn't."

I step closer, looming over him. "You kidnapped her. Terrorized her. And for what? To impress Daddy?"

Mike shakes his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, I'll do anything..."

"Anything?" I echo, a cruel smile twisting my lips. "Alright then. Tell me everything. Every detail about your father's operation. Every name, every contact, every dirty little secret. And maybe, just maybe, I'll make it quick."

For the next hour, Mike spills his guts. He tells us about hidden bank accounts, secret allies, contingency plans we hadn't even considered. By the time he's done, he's a sobbing mess, but we have more information than we ever hoped for.

I look at Jer, raising an eyebrow. He nods, a silent understanding passing between us.

"Thank you, Mike," I say, my voice deceptively gentle. "You've been very helpful."

Relief washes over Mike's face, quickly replaced by confusion as I raise my gun.

"Wait! But you said?—"

The gunshot drowns out the rest of his words. Mike slumps in his chair, a neat hole in his forehead.

"I said maybe," I mutter, turning away from the body.

Jer claps a hand on my shoulder. "It's done," he says quietly. "It's over."

I nod, suddenly feeling the weight of everything we've been through. "Yeah. It's over."

Now it’s time to go home to Grá and let her know that she’s safe. This shit won’t ever touch her again.

TWENTY-EIGHT

GRÁINNE

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