Page 131 of Ramsay

“Maybe you shouldn’t—“

“Shouldn’t what?” Crush says, rising to his feet.

Yates steps back, his eyes wide. Bemused, I move to my knees as Crush approaches him. If I’m lucky, the fuckers will kill each other and leave me be. Except, I’ve never been all that lucky.

“I’m tired of you running your fucking mouth,” Crush says as Yates takes another step back and his arms pinwheel before him.

Why is he…? Oh fuck. With a weird squeal, Yates falls backward, into what I assume is a big fucking hole. Shit. Double Shit.

Why is there a hole?

With a shudder, I cross my arms and fight off the panic pressing at my chest. I’m doomed.

Chuckling, Crush stops before the edge and taps his chin while Yates blubbers below, “I’m sorry. I, l-l-look…we can, um, you know, work this out.”

For all his pleas, I’m guessing Crush has reached the end of his patience because he pulls a gun from the waistband of his jeans and points it toward the hole, tsking, “I warned you, but you just wouldn’t listen.”

“N-n-no,” Yates pleads, and I grimace. It’s useless to appeal to this soulless fuck but I can’t drum up any sympathy. Yates deserves what he gets even if it’s at the hands of Crush.

“You need me. I’m rich, I—“

“You what?” Crush snivels. “Fucking pathetic.”

“I’ve given you everything you asked. I have contacts, high up…”

“You also burn through my girls and leave them empty,” Crush says. “Besides, now I’m gonna have to deal with your pissant son. You think I have time for this shit?”

Ramsay? When? How? Oh shit, is that who we’re waiting for?

No fucking way. NO.

While Crush sighs and shakes his head theatrically, I glance at Stephen, who’s turned away. Facing the sea of graves behind us, he’s checked out from this conversation. Why, I have no clue, but it doesn’t matter because this is my chance.

I don’t have time to waste, and I’ll have to contend with Stephen at some point. I’ll worry about that when Crush is in the hole with Yates, though. Fucker.

Resolved, I drop to my hands and knees and crawl forward. I don’t have much in the way of strength positioned as I am and still reeling from the blow to the head, but if I stand, I’ll draw attention to myself and I’m hoping I don’t need it for what I have in mind, anyway.

When my teeth begin to chatter, I clench my jaw to keep the panting breaths behind my lips as I slowly approach Crush, waving his gun in the air.

My heart is pounding so heavily, I can’t hear what he’s saying but I’m pretty sure it’s more bitching about Yates and his lack of usefulness or some shit.

Since he’s still standing over Yates, he’s precariously close to the hole. Thank fuck. Except he steps back, and I freeze, while Yates says, “Just hold on. Think this through.”

“Fuck off. I don’t need to think, old man. I fucking know.”

With that he raises the gun. It’s now or never. Biting back a grunt, I shift so I’m sitting on my ass and raise my feet, kicking with as much force as I can muster into the backs of his knees.

His arms flail much like Yates before him and I suck in a breath as he teeters at the edge for what feels like a lifetime before finally, he fucking falls.

“Shit,” I mumble but I don’t wait around for the backlash beyond the satisfaction of hearing a grunt and dull thud before I’m on my feet.

My leg immediately gives way and I stagger in the crunchy grass, dragging it behind me. The low throb in my head becomes a crescendo but it’s hardly a focus as I move away.

The cop car is gone but I see the gates in the distance. It’s too far. There’s no way I’ll make it. Stephen. He has to be behind me but when I glance back, I find him standing achingly still, his head cocked to the side.

Why isn’t he pursuing me?

Crush bellows from his place in the hole beside Yates but I can’t hear the individual words, just the angry tempo. Good, maybe he’ll rot down there. Yates too.

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