Page 116 of Merciless

An accomplished smirk pulls at my lips as that scene plays out happily in my mind, like it has a hundred times in the past few years.

This plan isn’t new. It’s been in the works for a long ass time. Since the moment I discovered our father is nothing more than a corrupt, selfish, piece of shit who only cares about himself.

He’s meant to be a leader; someone young boys look up to. He has power in this town—hell, he has all the power—and he abuses it daily by fucking over almost every single resident of Harrow Creek in any way he can.

This place is miserable, and it’s only getting worse. But while his greed and wealth are growing, he doesn’t give a shit.

The kids are addicts who barely attend school. Our businesses are drowning with each new thief he breeds. The only person truly thriving in this town is the one ruining it.

It’s not how it should be. It’s not how it used to be, anyway.

Our great-grandfather ran this place with an iron fist. The town was growing, its people were happy. Crime was low because he had the place locked up tight, and families lived normal, fulfilling lives.

Then our grandfather took over, and then Victor. And everything has gone to shit. They’d rather line their own pockets than protect their town.

Well, it stops here.

The cycle of corruption and unnecessary violence, uncontrollable drug use and the disregard for people’s lives will be forgotten and a new era is going to start.

All we have to do to make it happen is kill every corrupt cunt in this place.

A humorless laugh tumbles from my lips. As if it’s that easy.

The crowd settles and across the ring, a pair of dark eyes find mine.

My lips twitch as a rush of adrenaline shoots through my system.

Oh, fuck yes.

And I’m starting with this motherfucker.

The tension in the huge space changes as more and more Hawks notice what’s about to go down.

“You probably shouldn’t do this,” JD warns quietly.

“I do a lot of things I probably shouldn’t.” Like watching my best friend fuck my enemy’s wife with a knife not so long ago.

I hate to admit it, but it was probably one of the hottest things I’ve seen. And something tells me just about as enjoyable as the next few minutes are going to be.

“So letting you beat the shit out of me didn’t help then?”

Amusement rolls through me, but I don’t react.

“Letting me?” I ask, lifting a brow after I’ve turned to look at him.

“I went easy on you. Felt like you needed it.”

“Sure. It had nothing to do with the fact your head was still in the basement, wishing you’d never been stopped.”

“I wasn’t actually going to do it,” he argues.

“Such a fucking liar,” I tease, looking back across at Mav, jerking my chin up in acceptance of the challenge.

Reaching behind my head, I drag my hoodie off before handing JD my cell, wallet and keys, and stepping forward.

The excitement ramps up the second I emerge in the ring.

Back in the day, I used to be here every Friday night, beating anyone’s ass who was brave enough to try me. But over the last few years, more and more, I’ve kept my distance. Showing my face here is a big thing, but stepping into the ring. Yeah, this is going to cause a stir. Even more so when my opponent does the same.

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