Page 121 of Madness & Mercy
He’s right. Not because the guy doesn’t deserve it. But because we’ve got more important things to do tonight.
I crouch down beside the bastard’s ruined face, my voice like ice.
“You’re lucky. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be dead. Understand that?”
The guy nods weakly, tears streaking his filthy cheeks.
I straighten up, wiping the blood on my shirt, then glance down with that same dead calm.
“Apologize.”
“Sorry,” the guy croaks, barely audible through swollen lips and broken teeth.
Julian doesn’t even look at him as he turns on his heel and walks out.
I follow, slamming the door behind us.
We head upstairs in silence, footsteps heavy against the concrete.One hour left. One hour until Braga dies.
Julian shrugs his jacket on, pulling it tight over his shoulders. A pair of gloves go on next, snug around his fingers. Then the knife—hisknife—slipped into the waistband at his lower back. Lastly, he checks the pistol I gave him, pulling the slide back with a soft click before tucking it inside his jacket.
Behind us, Luca and Enzo move just as silently. Luca adjusts the strap across his chest, his gun already loaded. Enzo rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck like he’s gearing up to break someone else’s. They both glance at Julian, but no one says a word. The unspoken’s already loud enough.
Outside, the Maserati waits for us at the curb. I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. The low growl rips through the quiet like a warning.
Julian drops into the passenger side, slamming the door shut hard. He doesn’t look at me, staring straight ahead, his face set like stone. But his right knee bounces, sharp and fast. It’s the only tell he gives me.
Enzo slips behind the wheel of the blacked-out Benz without a word. Luca swings a leg over his bike, leather gloves already on, engine snarling to life with a twist of his wrist. For a second,their eyes flick to me. Luca gives the slightest nod, and Enzo cracks his neck and smirks through a crack in the window.
I shift into gear and pull onto the street. The tires spit gravel, and the Maserati roars to life beneath us. The city rolls out in front like a sacrifice.
A beat passes before Julian finally speaks.
“You didn’t have to hit him that hard.”
I shrug. “Didn’t like the way he talked about you.”
Julian exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Probably,” I say, smirking. “But you didn’t stop me.”
He doesn’t answer right away, staring out the window, his shoulders tense.
“You didn’t flinch,” I add after a moment. “When he called you that. You didn’t even blink.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he says flatly. “And I don’t give a damn what that piece of shit thinks.”
I glance over at him. “You care whatIthink?”
He looks at me then, his eyes sharp in the dark. “Do you want me to?”
I smile to myself and shift gears, pushing the car faster. “You already do.”
Another silence settles between us, heavier this time.
Julian finally leans back, his eyes flicking toward me again. “You gonna lose your shit like that when we see Braga?”
I give a low laugh. “Oh, I plan to domuchworse than lose it.”
