A large body lay on the ground, partially obscured by the lack of light.
I’m taken abruptly back to that night when I was beaten and left behind, only for Claire to come to my rescue.
This time, it’s the person who beat me, lying bloodied on the ground.
The same guy who threatened Claire.
Jared coughs and blood flies out of his mouth. There’s a gaping wound in his chest that he frantically tries to apply pressure to. His gaze flicks across the alley and when I follow it, I find another body.
This one completely lifeless. My beer-pong opponent. Steve.
Jared’s partner in crime.
Footsteps rustle at the street entrance, drawing my attention.
“God damn it, Claire, get out of here.” I plead with her to go.
She rushes to my side, her eyes wide with shock.
Bram appears next, along with random onlookers.
“Someone call 9-1-1!” I say into the mass of them.
Jared’s red lips part, and he tries to say something.
“What?” I lean in closer.
He whispers his final words and takes his last, dying breath.
“Holy shit, is he…?” Claire latches onto my arm.
I let go of Jared’s dead body and slowly stand. I look from Jared to Steve, noting the now incredibly visible guns at both of their sides.
This was meant to look like a setup. Like a double homicide. It's clean, tidy, and has absolutely no strings connecting what happened in this alley to anyone else. The police will come and think it was just an unfortunate altercation where both parties ended up dead. The only people who will have any idea of the truth are already too deep under Franklin's control to say a damn thing. It's fucking clever, really, but scary as fuck. If Franklin can orchestrate something so simple yet elaborate, what else is he capable of?
And the sheer fact that he staged it to happen in the very place where the two of these guys beat and stole that package from me… Well, it’s twistedly poetic. Plus, a huge fucking warning of what would have happened to me had I not been the one to have gotten it back to him.
Franklin was out for blood, one way or another.