We’re going so fast the surroundings are a blur and dirt encases the car. I can barely see the road and have to focus on the taillights of the car in front of us. As I struggle to keep the car straight, Doc sticks his arm out the window and points the gun at the other car. He mutters something under his breath and fires the gun.
Tires squeal. Dust flies everywhere. The car in front of us disappears.
Doc grabs the wheel from me and the Barracuda slams to a halt, skidding sideways in the middle of the road.
I work to catch my breath as Doc hops out of the car, but the air gets knocked right back out of me when I spot where Doc is going.
The car we were chasing is off the road, upside down, tires still spinning. The metal is crunched in, and smoke is leaking from somewhere.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
Who’s in the car?
My hands shake as I shove the door open and stagger out. I inch my way around the front, watching Doc stride for the wrecked vehicle and crouch down by the driver’s door. He ducks his head to look inside then reaches in with his free hand and drags the driver out.
The driver doesn’t put up a fight, and when I reach Doc, I half expect to see a dead man being hauled like a sack of potatoes through the dirt. The guy is alive, though. Barely.
Blood gushes from almost every part of his body, one of his arms is bent the wrong way, and his mouth makes a strange sound every time he takes a breath.
He groans when Doc lets go of him. “Please...” He manages to get out, staring helplessly at Doc.
“Please?” Doc spits out as he paces to the side of the man, grasping his gun, his eyes wild like he’s out of his mind. “Is that what my son said when he came to you for drugs?”
The man lets out a choking sound. “I tried not to give him any... but... he... wouldn’t... take... no for an answer.”
Doc’s expression burns with fury. “So a druggie comes to you, and you just crumble when you know the consequences for selling him drugs? God, you’re as weak and pathetic as my son.” He kicks him in the side, and the guy wails in pain. “Maybe even more so since you knew what would happen. My son didn’t have a clear head.”
“I’m sorry,” the man moans, rolling to his side.
Doc crouches down, grabs his shirt, and forces the man to look at him. “You’re sorry! My son is in a coma, and you’re sorry!” he shouts in his face. “Do you know how hard I searched for the person who sold him the drugs? How much I was hoping it wasn’t one of my own? And then to find out it was you, Ivan. A person I let into my home, who spent time with my family. Who knew about my son’s struggles.”
“Please, don’t tell Elderman,” he begs. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I was dealing to family members in his circle.”
Doc laughs, a chilling, hollow laugh. “Too late. I told him this morning that I found out it was you.” He leans closer and his lips curve into an eerie grin as the man starts to sob. “But don’t worry; he’s not going to kill you.” Then he stands up straight and points the gun at the man. “I am.”
I rush forward, opening my mouth to yell stop out of pure instinct. No sound leaves my throat, though, as the gun fires. Blood sprays everywhere like rain and splatters across my shirt and face. For a moment, I’m thrown back into the memory of Ben and what I did to him after he beat Aura.
Doc lowers the gun and stares at the man he just shot. “See, regret eliminated.” When he looks at me, I see blood painting his face. His expression is that of a madman. “Welcome to hell, Ryler, a place where the evil thrive and the weak die. This man was weak. My son was weak. And now they’re both paying for their sins.”
Having no idea how to react, I just stand there, staring at the gory scene, the scene I helped cause.
Doc snatches a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face off. Then he throws it to me. “Clean yourself up.”
I rub my face with the cloth, noting how bad my hands are shaking. I just hope Doc doesn’t notice my fear; otherwise, he might question why I’m in this world in the first place.
I follow him back to the car and get into the passenger seat while he climbs into the driver’s side. He sends out a text before turning the car around and driving back toward the freeway.
“I’m not a monster,” he abruptly tells me as he drives up the ramp. “That man back there dealt to my son who’s suffered from an unfortunate heroin addiction since he was fourteen-years-old. He’s almost died twice, and my wife and I have tried everything we could to help him, but no matter what treatment he goes through, he always goes back to his habit within days. Every single one of my men knows not to deal to him. Ivan knew what he was doing, knew he was harming my son when he sold him the drugs, yet he still did it. He chose to harm my family, and I had to make sure he paid for his sins, just like I made sure my son paid for his. It’s what I have to do, Ryler; otherwise, the people in my life will do what they want.”
Unsure what he wants from me, I nod, which seems to satisfy him.
He focuses back on driving down the desolate freeway, listening to his music while I work to remain calm. But by the time he drops me off at my car, I’ve reached a state of shock.
“Ryler, if you keep going the way you are,” Doc says as I climb out of the car, “then you’ll do just fine in this world. You have the gift of silence, something a lot of people take for granted. But you, you see things and don’t have to speak of them.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, understanding his message. Keep your mouth shut about what happened tonight, and you’ll be fine.
I’ve seen a lot of rough shit in my time. Aura almost beaten to death was one of the worst, but I tried to stop that from happening, stepped in to fight. Tonight, I did nothing except watch. I even helped in the chase.
I’m not any better than Doc.
I try not to think about what happened, try not to let that horrible time creep into my mind, but the memory strikes me hard—the time I spent in juvie. How I got there. The blood that painted my knuckles as I was cuffed and driven down to the station. How no one would help me, even the people I cared for. No one would tell the truth.
I force the thought out of my mind. No, I won’t go there. Never again. I refuse to dwell in the past.
I hop into my Challenger and drive away from the bar, Doc, this night. By the time I arrive at my apartment, shock has possessed my body. My teeth chatter and my body shakes as I trudge up the stairs, slip quietly into the apartment, and hurry to the bathroom to take a shower and wash the blood off me.
I scrub my skin so roughly I start to bleed. The sight of the red pooling out of my skin is the final straw that sends me over the edge. I crumble onto the bathtub floor and start to cry.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t be this person.
I can’t be okay with watching death come by the hands of another.
By the time I get out of the shower, my body aches and my mind is exhausted. I still have to do one more thing before I pass out, though. I grab my personal phone and text Stale.
Me: I’m out.
I toss the phone on the floor before he can respond. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, don’t want to question my choice. I got into this for my freedom, but I don’t think it’s worth it anymore. The scars from this night will never be worth anything.
“I’m out,” I mouth to myself as I lie down in bed and shut my eyes. But my thoughts whisper something else. I’m not out. This is barely starting. There’s much more death and violence in my future.
“Welcome to hell, Ryler. A place where the evil thrive and the weak die.”
I think I’ve been in hell for a while.
Chapter 9
A Riddle
Emery
For the first half of the night, I sleep fantastically. I dream of Ryler and his body covering mine, hot flesh to hot flesh. Warm lips. Searing metal. God, that orgasm...
Then I wake up, and the figure I left behind at my old house is in my room. This time
, I know who it is, though.
“Emery, please help me,” Ellis begs, stretching his hand out toward me. “I’m so cold.”
I reach my hand out for him, but don’t dare get out of bed. “How can I help when I don’t know what’s going on?”
“Ask questions.” And just like that, he’s gone.
Ask questions? About what? And to whom?
I sleep terribly for the rest of the night, tossing and turning. I wake up well before the sun rises and consider going for my jog early, but after the incident last night, I’m not sure I should go out alone.
I decide to busy myself by taping up the window. I use some masking tape I find in one of my boxes and a grocery bag since I don’t have any plastic. I’m not sure if I should tell the landlord or just fix the door myself. I consider calling my mom and finding a subtle way to ask for her advice, but my mother will more than likely be able to read me.
I remember when I was thirteen and stole a candy bar from her purse. I wasn’t allowed to have candy because I was “getting too thick” as she put it. She sat me down in the chair, taped my legs and arms together, and asked me the same question for five hours straight.
“Did you steal the candy, Emery?”
On the fifth hour, I cracked, too hungry and tired to go on. My father was so disappointed.