Page 639 of Rage

I untie one hand and give him the pen.

“Write a letter to your son, apologizing,” I demand. When he doesn’t move, I add in a loud snarl, “NOW!”

Patrick scrambles to grab the pen. He starts writing. The letter ends up being short and to the point.

I snatch it off the table, folding it and putting it in my pocket. Grabbing the book bag, I get out a big tarp, laying it out. I grab the chair Patrick is sitting on and tip him over onto the tarp. He groans and curses under his breath, that terror bleeding back into his expression.

I grab the knife from my pocket and start cutting him, watching his blood coat my hands and the knife. He screams so loud; I have to grab a rag from the bag and shove it in his mouth. He starts to choke on it from how far back it is in his throat. I don’t wanna kill him right away; I want him to suffer first, like Noah had to do all those years ago. Muffled whimpers come from his gagged mouth. Only when his skin is split open and he’s bleeding all over the tarp do I reach for the gun in the waistband of my pants. I press it to his temple and pull the trigger. Good riddance.

I grab my phone and dial the only man I’d trust to get rid of the evidence in this house–my brother Sean. I haven’t seen him in years; not since he started working for the Cosa Nostra but Sean always said If I ever needed him just call. I think he feels obligated, since he’s older than me by eight years.

He answers after the fourth ring.

“Hello?” Sean asks.

“Hey big bro, I need a favor.”

“Okay?” he says, hesitantly.

“I need you to get a clean-up crew to the pin I’m sending you now.”

“What did you do?” he questions.

“What I had to, so… clean-up crew?” I ask, impatiently.

“Yeah, I’ll send some men to you,” he sighs in resignation.

“Nah, I won’t be here, but the wife will be in three hours,” I smirk.

“Fuck, Sinesio! Okay, fine—I’ll call the crew right now,” he replies, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, and Sean, don’t call me that!” I snap, grinding my teeth.

Our mother named me that after my piece of shit father. Sean had a loving father, the one who would pick him up and taught him how to drive. Until he died in a horrible accident.

After I end the call, I gather all my stuff and head home. Home, to Kieran and Noah.

Chapter Nine

Noah

Iwake up to the sound of the door opening. When I glance down, I see Kieran sleeping on me, a heavy, but comorting weight on my chest. She looks so beautiful. I look to the door that opened moments ago, watching as Sin stumbles in, looking exhausted and covered in blood. Wait, what?

I crawl out of bed, moving Kieran to lay her flat. Once I’m up, I move to Sin’s side.

“Are you okay?” I ask as my breath hitches and my heart rate speeds up.

What happened to him? Where was he?

“I’m fine, baby,” Sin answers.

“Why are you covered in blood? Who did this to you?” I question in rapid succession.

“It’s not my blood. Now calm down, and quiet down,” he orders. “Kieran is sleeping, and she needs it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” I reply.

“I need to shower; you coming?” Sin says on a sigh.

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