Page 31 of Psycho Killers

“Maybe. But without me, your empire means nothing.” I shoot back, my pulse hammering in my ears, drowning out the fears battling for dominance.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I see it—the fear behind his bravado. The realization that his grasp on this world is weakening, that his legacy is unraveling. My heart races with the truth of it, but even the thought of victory is marred with uncertainty.

“Enough of this bullshit,” I say, my voice steady. “You’ve hurt the people I care about for too long—Cali, Ash, Dom—they deserve better than to be dishonored by your name. I'll end this shit, one way or another.”

“Foolish boy,” he warns, stepping closer, but I stand my ground, the resolve harnessed like a blade ready to strike.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I assert, taking a deep breath. “And this is where we end the cycle of violence—where I break free from the chains you forged.”

The words hang suspended as the storm roars outside, rain thrumming against the roof, mirroring the thunder of past grievances vibrating through my being. I can feel it now—a surge of power flowing through me, fiercer than the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My father’s laughter echoes in the darkness, taunting, but within that sound is the unmistakable tremor of desperation.

“It’s not your fucking decision to make,” he snarls, stepping into a haze of fury.

But I take a step forward. Five stands alert behind me, my heart hammering. “Then let’s make it together,” I challenge, knowing this fight will unravel everything—what remains of my family, my sanity, my very fucking soul.

I'm ready to plunge headfirst into the fucking storm—a reckoning waiting, ready to clash with the specters of the past, destiny demanding its due. It all happens so fast. The first punch gets thrown, and it surprises me, but I still dodge it just in time. I raise my fist and swing, clocking my father in his nose, blood pouring out on contact.

Just as the fight begins—hard blows being thrown back and forth—I hear the door slam and stomping heading our way. The shadows behind me let me know that Cali and the guys are here, and it's time to finally end it all, their silhouettes framed by the flickering light of the basement. The sight of them ignites a flamein my chest, a fierce surge of courage that drowns out the doubts creeping in.

“Let’s finish this shit,” Cali commands, her voice unwavering.

There's a fire in her eyes—a fiercer glow than I’ve ever seen—one that promises that tonight will not end in tragedy for us.

As if sensing the shift in momentum, my father sneers, wiping blood from his face. “You think bringing them will save you? They’re just as fucking weak as you are!”

“There’s nothing weak about us,” Ash replies, stepping forward, fists clenched, eyes narrowed. “And tonight, you’ll find that out.”

The air thickens with electric tension as the remnants of my father’s crew begin to filter in behind him, confused yet clearly ready for a fight, but we outnumber them now, the balance tipping in our favor. And just like the first four, Five and Dominic end up taking out the rest of them, giving them all matching bullet wounds as we watch them fall dead to the floor.

My father moves to gather himself, but I’m not giving him any more fucking time. I charge forward, a reckless fury propelling me as I force my father back with a barrage of wild punches. Each hit feels cathartic, a release of years of pain I’ve been accumulating. The adrenaline spikes, lending strength to my blows, handcuffing him to the past he clings to.

Cali launches herself at him too, quick and precise; Ash joins in and takes over while I gather my composure, their rhythm a dance perfected through familiarity. I can't help but admire them—what unity looks like when it’s fueled not by blood but by loyalty, by shared scars and whispered secrets under fragmented skies.

Suddenly I hear a scuffle behind me; Dom and Five have engaged in their own battle with the last of my father’s bodyguards, a frantic fight where the stakes are etched deep across their brows. I glimpse at Five’s deft movements, the wayhe knocks out the man with a swift kick before pivoting to defend Dom from the gun the man has pointed at him.

“Keep fighting!” I shout, my voice almost lost in the chaos.

My focus returns to my father, who is swinging wildly, attempting to strike back, but his movements are desperate, fueled not by technique but by anger and fear.

“Just like old times, huh?” He snarls through gritted teeth, the dark glimmer of recognition flashing in his gaze, as if he sees the child he once wanted to mold now standing defiantly before him—a ghost, chasing down broken dreams. “You think you can fucking change anything?”

“I don’t need to change anything,” I spit back, panting hard, feeling my resolve harden further. “I just need to fucking end this.”

With a swift combination of kicks and punches, I knock him off balance, anger surging as I remember all the times he stood over me, lording his power with an iron grip. I drive him backward until he crashes against the basement wall, crumbling to the ground.

“You’re fucking nothing. You always have been!” He hisses, scrambling to lift himself back up, spitting blood down by Calista's feet, which gets her blood boiling.

But I hold her back, knowing she wants to lunge at him. I push her over to Dom, nodding as he holds her back, letting me finish off the beating that's been a long time coming. I take a deep breath, and for a split second, I feel the weight of my past clawing at me—the bruises, the disregard, the loneliness, the abuse. But as much as he’s chained me, I’ve learned to be the force that breaks those bonds.

“No, you were wrong about me,” I growl. “I’m everything you never believed I could be.”

I retreat slightly, sensing that this final blow must deliver the message loud and clear. With everything I have, I launchforward, feet colliding squarely with his chest—a visceral farewell to the prison he’s woven around my life. He gasps, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, the fight draining from his body like water down a drain.

“It's over,” I whisper, my breath heavy with exhaustion and exhilaration.

But just then, another sound pierces the storm—the unmistakable crack of gunfire. A bullet whizzes past my ear. The chaotic symphony of combat shifts abruptly into a warlike echo. My heart slams against my ribs, adrenaline pooling in my veins; I spin around, fear crashing back in.

“Watch out!” Five screams, his voice barely reaching through the sudden panic, as two more of my father’s men that we thought were neutralized spring back to life.

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