“Um, Granite,” Manic started, “without stating the obvious, he ain’t exactly your size. None of us are. Except little bro, here. Ouch.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Onyx slap Manic on the head. “I’m not little bro, you feel me?”
A smile tugged at the edges of my mouth, but my adrenaline was already spiked, and not even some simple club banter would be able to get my rage under control. The only thing that would help was blood.
I plucked my knife out of my pocket and started flipping it in my hand, staring at the bastard tied to the chair. “I hear you like beating up kids.”
“No. No, that’s not true.”
“Oh. It’s not?”
“No. I don’t know what that boy is telling you, but it’s lies.”
I leisurely started to circle around him. “And the bruises on his face? Those lying too?”
The kid-beater spat out some blood, a busted lip telling me Ink had already gotten in a punch or two. “That kid has been getting into all sorts of trouble. Drugs. Weed. It’s probably a dealer or someone.”
I shrugged, still circling him. “Could be. But the thing is,” I stopped in front of him, “I have eyes and ears all over this goddamn town. Nothing happens on these streets without me knowing, especially when it comes to drugs.” I crouched down so I was eye level with this ugly mofo. “I know for a fact the boy’s clean. The only dirty son of a bitch around here is you.”
He tugged at the rope tied around his wrists, the chair screeching across the cement floors. “I didn’t touch the little bastard.”
I tossed the knife in the air, caught it, then jabbed it into the side of his calf with every goddamn ounce of strength I had. The blade sliced straight through his flesh, ripping his calf wide open.
He screamed. I laughed. Ink howled like a fucking animal.Crazy son of a bitch.
The more the kid-beater screamed, tears mixing with snot, dripping off his face, the more it started to sound like music to my ears.
“I’m sorry,” he wailed, his head hanging down as spit dripped from his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh, God,” he cried. Sobbed like the low-life piece of trash he was. “I’m fucking sorry. Please don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
“Did you feel sorry for the boy when he begged you? When he asked you to stop?” Without blinking, I stabbed my knife through his foot, and I felt the blade crack through bone. The scream that came out of his mouth was deafening as it echoed through the empty warehouse.
Pain. It was there, in the sound of his scream. I felt it. Heard it. Fucking relished it.
“Granite.” Onyx stepped up next to me, leaning down. “Don’t lose your shit, man. He ain’t worth it.”
“But the boy is.”
“True. But we can’t afford the heat. If you kill this low-life, it will end up being another mess we need to clean up. And right now, that’s the last thing we need.”
His words were soft so no one else could hear, keeping the conversation close to our chests, because I was the president, and no one questioned the leader in front of others. But Onyx was my brother, and that put us on an entirely different level. We understood each other, respected each other, even if we didn’t always agree.
I glanced up, giving him a knowing look. My brother was right. We had to keep our heads down, stay out of trouble. At least for now.
Still crouched, I watched the blood pour from his leg, flesh and tissue hanging out. His leg was mutilated, the muscle destroyed. Yet I felt nothing. All I saw was that boy’s face, the bruises. Just like hers. Her face. Hurt and injured.
I held the bloody knife in my hand, rubbing my fingers up and down my beard. Just the sight of blood soothed me, calmed me, made me think clearer. Man, I was every fucking psychiatrist’s wet dream.
“Please, I won’t hurt him again. I promise.” The kid-beater cried some more, sweat dripping down the side of his face, his body shivering. “I swear to God, man. I won’t touch him again.”
I launched forward and grabbed his face in my hand, squeezing his cheeks. “You’re damn right, you won’t. You will take your scrawny, sorry, little ass and leave town. You will not come near the boy or his mom. And if I so much as catch a whiff of your stinking ass in the neighborhood, I will cut you from nose to navel. You feel me?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” He let out a few sobs. “Yes. I promise.”
I let go of his face with a jerk, then motioned for Ink to come closer. “Get him to a hospital. And you make fucking sure he leaves town.”
Ink nodded. “You got it.”
I didn’t stick around. The urge to kill this man was too strong, and if I didn’t leave now, his life would end with my blade stuck in his heart.