Page 51 of Vendetta
“You helped me get Anya home to Mercy.”Outcast rolled his shoulders and shrugged.“I’m keeping my end of this.”
Ripper smirked.“Let’s go put the bastard in the dirt.”
Vendetta nodded without a smile.“Eli dies tonight.”
He took the stairs two at a time.And at the top, he saw blood on the wall, boot prints smeared down the hallway.A door slammed ahead of them.
“That one,” Vendetta said, already moving.
It was time for the reckoning.
The door gave way on the second hit, splintering beneath Vendetta’s boot like brittle bone.Wood cracked and hinges screamed, but none of it mattered, not compared to the man inside.
Eli Crizer.There he stood, pistol in hand, like it meant something.Like it could change what was already written.
Vendetta stepped through the haze of busted wood and plaster, the hall light casting a long shadow across the floor.Tank’s old cut clung to his back like a second skin, soaked in ash and blood, stitched by ghosts.
“You gonna shoot me this time?”he said, voice steady despite the fire in his chest.“Fucking do it.But you better not miss.”
Eli’s hands shook.Vendetta could see his fear.Denial and disbelief were stamped across his face.
Vendetta took another step.Then another.Only then did Eli raise the gun, but it was too late.Vendetta was already on him, slamming into him with months of rage and pain packed into one hit.Eli’s gun clattered to the floor as their fists started flying.They crashed into the desk at the center of the room, papers flying, furniture cracking beneath the weight of unfinished business.Vendetta didn’t stop.Fury had him using his fists and elbows to do damage, to release the fear and betrayal he’d suffered with a noose around his neck.
He was so lost to his rage he barely heard Eli yell.Barely felt the sting of his knuckles.Grabbing Eli by the collar, he drove him into the wall.
“You left me in the woods to die,” Vendetta growled, nose to nose with him.“You hung me like a fucking traitor.For what?For telling the truth?”
“You were tearing us apart!”Eli yelled, dazed and bleeding.“You were gonna tear the club fucking apart.”
“No.”Vendetta’s voice broke, low and raw.“I was trying to stop you from selling kids to fucking perverts.That’s all I ever tried to do.You’re the one who made it about power.”
Eli pushed off the wall and swung.Vendetta caught it midair and dropped him to the floor with one brutal punch.Eli didn’t move after that, and the world started slowing down.
Vendetta stood over him, breathing hard, fists still clenched.Every nerve in his body screamed for closure.For justice and blood.
He heard footsteps coming up behind him.Ripper with Axel, Outcast, and Snow.Eli’s breathing was ragged, the way his hand pressed into his ribcage told Vendetta he’d broken some ribs.Fucking good.
Vendetta stared down at the man who’d destroyed him.The man who’d named him traitor.The man who’d killed Tank.Raising his booted foot, he was ready to finish it, end it all.But something in him paused.It wasn’t weakness, and it sure as fuck wasn’t mercy.
“Ishouldkill you,” he said.“I really want to fucking kill you for what you’ve done… But I won’t.”
Eli coughed up blood, looked up, confused.“Why?”
Vendetta leaned in, voice low and sharp as a blade.“Dylan may not be here with us, but I’m here for her just as much as I am for Tank.”
He grabbed Eli by the collar again, dragging him upright just enough so their eyes locked.
“You don’t even honor your own blood,” Vendetta snarled.“You killed your son.I didn’t give a damn about Babyface myself.But deep down, you knew what he was.A fucking monster in the making.Just like you.Maybe worse.And you were fine with it, as long as he followed orders and kept your hands clean.”
His voice dropped, guttural now.“But Dylan?Turning out your own fucking niece?You let men fucking circle her like dogs.You sold her off like a piece of meat because she was inconvenient and some middle-aged fucker from Sinister Skin wanted to get his dick wet.But she wouldn’t bend the knee.”Vendetta shoved him back in disgust.“You betrayed her.You betrayedme.And you betrayed this whole damn club.”
Ripper came up beside him, holding the pistol Eli had dropped.He offered it to Vendetta grip first.
Vendetta took it, feeling the weight of cold metal in his palm.But he didn’t lift it.Instead, he stepped back.He didn’t want to explain to Dylan why he had her uncle’s blood on his hands, no matter how much the fucker had it coming.
“He’s done,” Vendetta said.“Drag him out of here.I want the whole town to know he fell on his knees --”
CRACK.
