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Agony blossoms across my body as I desperately fight to remain conscious. Darkness threatens to engulf me, but I can’t give in. If I pass out, they’ll kill me.
I glimpse knives and guns amidst the weapons, realizing this isn’t just a beating. Zane wants me dead. A stab of pain lances through my thigh and I gasp, feeling the warmth of blood soaking my jeans. No. I can’t die like this. I have to survive, for Diane’s sake.
Summoning the last of my strength, I kick out at the men. I hear one of their knees break. Another drops his weapon. It’s enough to startle them, to make them hesitate. I pick up my cell phone from the ground and raise it into the air. I drag myself to my feet, my vision swimming. “Get out. Now. Or I’m calling the cops. I’ve got them on speed dial. I’ve also got private security on speed dial and those guys will be here within minutes and trust me, boys, they don’t follow the law.”
They glance at each other, indecision flickering across their features. I stand firm despite the agony, fixing them with a glare. After a long moment, they turn and leave, dragging their injured companions with them.
I remain standing only until the door swings shut behind them, then collapse in a broken, bleeding heap. Darkness rushes up to claim me, and this time I don’t have the strength to fight it.
I come to with a gasp, disoriented and confused. For a moment I don’t recognize my surroundings, then memory crashes over me in a sickening wave.
The attack. Oh no, the attack.
Every part of my body throbs in protest as I try to shift into a sitting position. I grit my teeth against the pain, glancing down to assess the damage. My clothes are torn and bloodied. A deep gash on my thigh seeps crimson, and bruises are already forming across my chest and face. I probe my nose gingerly, wincing as a sharp stab of pain shoots through my skull. Definitely broken. My ribs creak ominously when I take a breath, and I’m afraid a few of them may be fractured. Internal injuries are a possibility too, given the severity of the beating. I need to get to a hospital, but I can’t call for help. No one can know about this mess I’ve involved myself in. They’d never leave my side and I’ll have to give up on avenging Bennett.
Somehow, I have to get myself there without raising suspicion. Resolved, I steel myself for the agony to come and push to my feet, leaning heavily against the wall for support. The room tilts and goes dark again, but I shake it off. I have to do this. For Diane. For Tanya. For Bennett. Gritting my teeth, I take a step forward. Then another. And another. By the time I reach my car, black spots dance across my vision and I’m panting harshly. But I make it.
I slide into the driver’s seat, wincing at every movement. Now comes the real challenge: driving to the hospital without passing out. I can’t. I’ll only hurt someone if I try to drive myself. Instead, in a desperate cry for help, I call Big Bob. He’s the only person who would understand where I’m coming from. I tell him to come alone (and not to tell anyone) before I pass out in the car.
I come to a wakeful state in a sterile white room. I see dim lights overhead and hear the steady beep of a heart monitor. A nurse notices I’m awake and hurries over, checking my vitals.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Russo?”
My throat is too dry to speak at first. I swallow painfully. “What happened?”
“You were brought into the emergency room with severe injuries. Broken nose, fractured ribs, lacerations, and contusions. You’ve been unconscious for nearly half a day. Your friend who brought you in is still out there.”
The memories come flooding back in a rush. Zane, the beating, calling Big Bob. I clench my jaw, anger and frustration warring inside me. Even battered and broken as I am, a cold rage burns inside me. My desire to get my revenge on Zane has intensified. I need to make him pay. No one threatens to hurt my family and lives to tell the tale.
Hospital machines beep and whir around me. Despite the fact that I’m pumped full of painkillers, I still can’t escape the memories of Zane’s sneering face and the cruel taunts of his men as they descended on me like a pack of jackals. I close my eyes, but the images remain, seared into my mind.
I ball my hands into fists. Rage and shame war inside me—hatred and helplessness twisting into a toxic brew. I’m vulnerable here, at the mercy of doctors and nurses, unable to defend myself. It makes my skin crawl, this forced dependence on others. I’ve always been the protector, not the protected.
The nurse comes back in to inform me that she’s told Big Bob to come back tomorrow. I don’t respond, and she continues to ask if I would be okay alone or if there’s someone else she can all. I snap at her to get out, unable to bear the fussing. She gives me a stern look but complies, closing the door behind her. I sag back against the pillows, my chest heaving. I need to get out of this place, out of this bed. I need to heal and rebuild my strength. I need to plan my revenge.
Zane will pay for what he’s done. He’s opened a door that can’t be closed and unleashed something dark and primal inside me. He wants a fight? Now he’ll get one. The battle has just begun.
The next morning, I’m discharged from the hospital with a bag of painkillers and instructions for rest and recovery. As if. The only rest I’ll get is when Zane’s men are rotting in their graves.
Big Bob helps me home, concern etched into the lines on his weathered face. “Jesus, Brian. What did they do to you?”
I wave away his sympathy. “Nothing I can’t recover from. We have work to do.”
He shakes his head but says nothing, helping me into his truck. “You need to let this go, Brian,” he says.
“I can’t. What would Bennett do if it was us?”
“You need to tell your daughter.”
“I can’t. She’ll only worry.”
Big Bob shakes his head in disappointment, and I look away. “I never left the hospital, you know?” he says, forcing me to turn my attention back to him.
“I know. Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
“Don’t screw up again,” he says, just as we pull up into my driveway.
“I won’t.”
