Page 59 of Ravaged and Ruined
I see Cholla running. Again. Of course he is.
I lift my gun, put him in the scope. But I don’t fire. Not yet. This piece of shit doesn’t get to die easy.
He doesn’t get far. Tango and Rancor catch up to him, bleeding from a hole in his shoulder. He screams when they drag him back. Trying to fight. Kicking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.
It’s pathetic.
They haul him back into the clearing and drop him to his knees in the dirt, right there between the still-smoking vans and the men he sold his soul to.
Rancor spits beside him. “Where’s that tough guy act now, huh?”
Cholla’s shaking. His eyes darting from face to face. He knows there’s no saving him. Not from us.
“Please,” he gasps. “I didn’t know they were gonna take the girls, I…”
I step in front of him, gun still warm in my hand. “Don’t.”
His mouth snaps shut. I kneel in front of him, slow. Calm. He won’t see rage on my face. What he gets is something colder.
“You knew what they were doing. You helped them.”
“I just provided transport. It was just for money. I didn’t…” He starts sobbing. “I didn’t know what they were gonna do.”
“You knew enough.”
I glance over my shoulder. Backdraft’s pacing, fists clenched. Grizzly hasn’t said a word, his jaw is locked tight, like if he opens his mouth, he might rip the man apart with his teeth.
“You ran when we hit your clubhouse,” I say. “Left your brothers to burn.”
Cholla’s face crumples. “I didn’t.. p… please..”
“I’ve heard the prayers of men like you before.” Padre snaps, “You don’t get forgiveness. You don’t get mercy.”
Cholla screams again when Tango and Rancor haul him up and shove him against the side of the truck. His boots scrape the gravel, his heart racing loud enough I can feel it.
I take the pistol from my belt. No need for anything fancy. Just one round.
Padre mutters a low prayer behind me. I raise my gun, putting it to Cholla’s kneecap, and pull the trigger.
Cholla shrieks. Drops. Blood splatters across the dirt in thick streams. He curls in on himself, but we don’t let him go anywhere. He’s dragged back upright.
I step closer. Real slow.
“This is for every girl you handed over to those monsters,” I say. “For every one who didn’t make it out.”
Cholla tries to say something else. I don’t care. I put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.
The sound echoes out across the lot, then fades into silence. His blood pools at our feet.
We don’t say a word as we leave him there slumped beside men just as vile as he was. Let the buzzards have what’s left.
I step over the buyer’s body, yank his phone from his pocket for Hashtag to work his magic later.
Tango lingers behind, wiping down surfaces, collecting shell casings that belong to us. When the cops find this mess, it’ll look like a deal gone sideways. One crew trying to screw the other.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aero
