Page 95 of No Saint

“She’s not your family.”

I laugh, “Actually that’s where you’re wrong. You see and I’m sure you know, Amelia had a baby. A son. That boy is my nephew, and my brother is his father.”

The man blinks.

“Sadly, my brother lost his life some time ago now, but she became family the moment she became pregnant. And now she is my wife. My. Wife. Let that sink in for a moment.”

I hear him swallow but he remains mute.

“So, I’ll ask again, do you know what I do to people who hurt my family?”

“You kill them.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple.”

He tries to move but I smash the bottle, halting him in terror. Good. I hope he’s scared. I hope he’s picturing everything he did and imagining everything I’ll do.

“I’m not just going to kill you, I am going to make it slow.”

“Please,” he begs, “I’ll leave town. I’ll never speak of this.”

I laugh, “It’s a bit late for that now.”

I’m too quick for his drug addled brain to react and I slice the broken edge of the bottle across his chest, opening his flesh.

He screams and I do it again. And again. And again.

I do it until his torso is in ribbons, blood dripping from each slash like a gory river onto the carpet. He would bleed out from all the deep wounds, but we weren’t going to make it that far.

“I think that suffices for all the times you cut her, right?”

He whimpers, barely conscious.

“So, what’s next? Burning? Beating? We’ve done the drowning, but I don’t feel that was long enough.”

I was covered in his blood, it stuck to my skin but there wasn’t enough of it. I knew the sun would soon be rising and I wanted to be back before Amelia woke.

“You’ve taken too much of my time.” I sigh before I lunge forward with the bottle, embedding it into his stomach before ripping it up, opening him. It was sharp enough to open him fully and I momentarily regretted my decision not to bring more with me but instead, I stand and fire off several rounds into his torso and chest, emptying the clip.

He was dead long before his body hit the ground. And just for good measure, I remove his limp dick and shove it into his throat.

“It will do,” I say to his bleeding body, “Your debt with Amelia is settled.”

I stride from the trailer, bringing out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from my hands.

The sky was lightening but it wasn’t quite dawn yet.

By the time I make it home, the sun is just cresting over the now calm waters beyond the cliffs. My clothes are stiff with blood, my skin tight with it.

Enzo stands as still as any statue when I approach but his eyes move over me, taking in the blood stains.

When I go to move past him, he grabs my shoulder, forcing me to turn to him.

He nods once and then slams a fisted hand over his heart.

Respect.

I pat his hand, “Go rest, brother.”

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