Page 23 of Breathing

“Alejandro is sending three men to do clean up,” Joey announced after he put his burner away. “Let’s get these fuckers in the van.”

I grabbed Richard just as he began waking up. Immediately, he started flopping around, closely resembling a fish. I sighed and stood back with my hands on my hips, staring down at him.

“You’re not getting out of those,” I told him.

“Fuck you,” he seethed, his teeth gritted and his eyes bulging out of his head from rage.

I just grinned before Joey and I wrenched him up from the ground and carried him over to the van. It wasn’t easy with him wiggling, and he wouldn’t stop yelling for help. But no one was coming for him since he was the one that decided to live in the middle of nowhere on an extremely private property surrounded by trees, thinking he would forever be untouchable.

It was the perfect location because no one would ever hear him scream.

* * *

The spotwe found on Richard’s land was set back in the woods and required us to drive to the back of the property. The van only went so far, and from there, we had to make the trek on foot. I dragged Richard’s heavyset ass through all the brush, letting all the limbs smack him that I could. Finally, we emerged in the tiny clearing, and I dropped Richard to the ground just as thunder rumbled overheard.

I smirked down at him when he flinched. “Ironic, isn’t it?” I asked as I pulled my knife out of the sheath on my belt. “Isn’t this the kind of weather you beat the fuck out of my wife in?”

“She’s not your wife,” he seethed. “She’s my brother’s wife.”

“Really?” I retorted. “Because according to the local news, he was found dead in his car, wrapped around a tree, wasn’t he? Can’t have a wife if you’re dead.”

He bared his teeth at me. I crouched in front of him and tipped his chin up with the blade of my knife, nicking his skin. He swallowed thickly, trembling now. “Cannon ismine. And anyone who fucks with her will bleed out at my feet. So, you know what that means for you?”

“P-please,” he blubbered. Change of tune when I held his life in my hands.

I snickered. “I bet Cannon didn’t even beg, and yet here you are, pleading as if I give a fuck. My woman has got bigger fucking balls than you do.”

Then, I plunged the knife into his thigh. His blood-curdling scream was music to my ears and sent a sadistic warmth rushing through my veins. Grabbing my other knife out of my boot, I cut his shirt open and began to slice into him like he was nothing more than an animal led to the slaughter. Except most animals were shown more care—were killed before they were slaughtered so they wouldn’t feel the pain.

But he was worse than an animal. Below them. Unworthy of them.

Blood spilled from his lips as he cried and pleaded with God, but God didn’t exist here. There was nothing but me, my brothers, and the devil with all his demons.

I gripped his neck and pulled his upper body up so our noses brushed. He sobbed. I tilted my head to the side so our faces were next to each other. “Tell Satan I said hi,” I whispered in his ear before I slit his throat—slowly. Oh, so slowly. He gurgled, his eyes wide as he choked on his own blood. Standing back to my full height, I loomed over him, grinning until the life in his eyes died and he stared blankly back up at me.

I wiped the blood off my knife using his shirt and tucked it back into my boot before yanking my bigger knife out of his thigh, cleaning it off the same way before tucking it back into its sheath on my hip.

I walked over to the kid. He smelled like piss and shit, and fuck, it smelled bad. Joey passed me a wooden bat, and I hummed, tapping it on my palm. “Did you grab this from their house?” I asked, eyeing the blood on it. Murderous rage pulsed through me, but I shoved it back down. That rage had no place here—not anymore.

I got my vengeance. It was time for Ink to get his for what happened to Jessie.

The boy shook his head at us, snot all over his face as he cried. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever stopped since he was dragged out of that basement.

I cocked my head to the side. “Tell me, boy, did you drive that car into the back of that SUV and then pass this bat off to your daddy?” I asked him.

Vern snatched the bandana down from his mouth, and he screamed in pain when it yanked some of his teeth out with it. Blood spilled down his chin, and the rage simmering in my gut settled at the sight of it.

“I asked you a question,” I calmly reminded him.

He nodded, his lips trembling. I chuckled and looked over at Ink, passing him the bat. He arched a brow at me. The boy was pleading now, but we ignored him. “Get your revenge, brother. He was the driver, remember?”

Ink grunted, a darkness taking over his features that would chill a normal man to his bones. But I just clapped a hand to his back and moved out of his way, letting him have his moment.

And when I heard bone snap under the weight of that bat, I smiled.

13

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