Page 8 of Brutal King

“Just under four hours.”

“Great,” I groan. “Awesome. Love long rides.”

He grunts something unintelligible. As our driver, Victor is well aware of my aversion to trips longer than an hour. So is Luca. Makes me wonder if having me fly out of Arlington truly has anything to do with this Ferryman business, or if it’s just his own way of torturing me.

“Touché, brother. Touché.” For now.

Halfway in and I’m going mad. My ass went numb an hour ago, my legs feel cramped and I’m pretty sure I’m on my way to developing a serious case of Deep Vein Thrombosis.

Worse yet, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my predicament and the brother responsible for it. With every second that passes, the annoyance I felt at being manipulated has grown into downright anger. No, not anger. Rage.

For a while, I tried to distract myself to keep from feeling the resentment building— counted houses, Jeeps and mindlessly scrolled through social media. But I could only do it for so long before my mind came back to the same thing. Plotting revenge against Luca.

I gave into it, letting the devious thoughts take over my brain. Images of gum in his hair forcing him to chop it all off. Or maybe dye in his toothpaste. No. Those are too childish and since I’ve already done that to him, he’ll probably be expecting it. It has to be something much worse. Hit him where it would hurt the most.

Carina.

If I did something that would put strain on their relationship. Something that made her suspicious…

Oh my God, Sofe, what the hell are you thinking!?

I’m horrified once again at the route my thoughts are taking me in. I’d never do such a thing, and yet by his own actions, Luca is turning me into a monster.

What I need is fresh air. To get out of this damned moving cage.

“Victor, can you stop somewhere? I have to pee.” I touch my throat and grimace, my mouth suddenly dry. “And I’m parched.”

“I’d like to get beyond Connecticut before we stop.”

“Beyond it? How much longer?”

“An hour.”

“I… I can’t.” I wrap my fingers around the door handle, considering actually pulling the thing and jumping out. “Pull to the side of the road. I’ll pee behind a bush if I have to.”

He sighs. “Wait a few minutes. We’re coming into Middletown.”

A few minutes later, we’re turning into a corner gas station. Victor parks the car in front of the door to the convenience store, but scans the area before shutting off the engine.

I look too.

There’s a bus stop with a crowd of about ten people waiting— some older folks, a couple of women and some kids. A man watching the dollar amount go higher and higher is getting gas at the farthest pump. And there are a few working men covered in paint heading into the store. None of them are criminals that I can tell.

“Seems safe,” I comment.

Victor does his normal grunt. “Let’s go.”

We step out of the car. He walks in front of me to hold the door open and allows me to enter the shop. Then he proceeds to follow me to the register.

“Where are your restrooms?” I ask the lady behind the counter.

“Over there, down that hall.” She points to the back of the store, to a spot between the drink fridges.

“Thanks.” I make to go that way, when I realize Victor is still at my heel. I stop. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“I have to use the bathroom. Please don’t hover.”

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