Page 28 of Desperate Actions

The man scrambles, his hands up in pathetic surrender, voice trembling, “Okay, okay, okay! We made a m-mistake! We’re sorry! Please, we didn’t know they were yours!”

I still.

For a long, lethal moment, I say nothing.

I just let the words settle between us.

My lip curls.

My fury rolls around inside of me, filling every inch of my person.

“That’s not a fucking excuse, you piece of shit.”

Because it’s not.

Because these two would have done it anyway.

Because they only care now that they picked the wrong girls.

And because this one dared to touch mine.

I don’t hesitate.

I blur forward, swift, methodical, using one of the first things I ever learned in the Marines.

Two moves. That’s all it takes.

I grab the back of his neck with one hand.

His chin with the other.

I breathe in the stench of his fear, let it settle deep in my gut.

I look deep into his eyes, noting his weakness, and his horror at what we both know I am about to do.

And then—I move.

A sharp, violent twist.

A snap.

His body slumps, lifeless.

Junior watches, head canted slightly.

Then, without a word, he grabs the second guy.

“Like this?”

I nod once. “A little lower.”

And just like that, he mimics the motion.

Another crack.

Another body.

And the world is better off.

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