Page 50 of Depraved

“Not a chance.”

Dutch moved closer, leaning into me. “It can be a trap.”

“Is there a problem?” Slither called out.

“Fuck you!” Onyx wanted to sprint across the road, but Ink grabbed him before he did.

“Come on, Granite. I just want to talk.” The fucker was calling me out. Only I wasn’t stupid. There was no way I trusted him. Something was up; I could feel the warning tingle at the crook of my neck.

Slither let out a maniacal laugh, reached behind him, and revealed a young boy. This time I had to grab Dutch to keep him from rushing across the road.

Motherfucker.

“Let the boy go, Slither,” I called out while trying to assess if Trent had been hurt.

“Not until you join me over here for a little one-on-one chat.”

Cars drove by, and people walked on the sidewalk. There was no way Slither would cause a scene—or a bloodbath—by hurting the boy now. But I couldn’t chance it. Pythons were unpredictable fuckers, and I wasn’t willing to put an innocent boy’s life at risk. So I walked.

I heard Ink curse, but he fell into step alongside me. There was no need to look around for me to know the others were all behind us. Like I said, we were a team.

“Keep a handle on Onyx,” I ordered Ink softly without anyone else hearing. The last thing we needed was my loose-cannon brother to cause shit.

The second my boot hit the pavement in front of Slither, I looked the son of a bitch straight in the eye. “Let the boy go.”

“Let the girl go.”

My heart stopped. The way every nerve in my face went numb, I knew I was probably as pale as a ghost. But I kept my goddamn poker face. Around fuckers like Slither, you never showed anything except hate and indifference. “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Slither lifted his top lip in a silent snarl, his split tongue flicking out of his mouth. “Do not fuck with me, Granite. You have the girl. I know you do.”

I stepped up, making it clear he didn’t intimidate me. Not even the creepy-as-fuck snake tattooed down the side of his face and neck, its body disappearing underneath his shirt, unsettled me. Slither really took the whole snake thing too fucking far.

“Let. The boy. Go.”

Slither hissed, the two pieces of his tongue moving like tentacles as he licked his lips. No matter how ugly the fucker was, I did not break eye contact.

“You know,” I started, “with that tongue, you’ll fit right in the day I send your ugly ass to hell.”

The malicious grin on his face remained. “Let’s not start throwing threats around, now, shall we?”

The men behind him stepped closer. Seven goddamn guys just to confront me. For onlookers, we probably looked like Titans ready to battle it out. God knew the atmosphere was palpable, like a war was about to start.

I glared at him, and all I saw was the fucker who killed my father. I didn’t see a man. I didn’t see a living, breathing human being. Slither was nothing but a demon, his eyes the color of a sewer rat. Brown, dirty, and motherfucking ugly.

Straightening my stance and squaring my shoulders, I glared at him. “I won’t say it again.”

Slither remained still, probably trying to assess the situation, thinking of every possible outcome.

Blood. Blood. And blood.

We both knew it. It was only a matter of time before our feud turned bloody…again.

“Fine,” he conceded, shoving the boy across to us. I grabbed Trent’s shoulders and pushed him toward Manic. “Get the boy out of here.”

Manic didn’t hesitate. He had the boy inside the gym within seconds.

“I suggest you move the fuck along, Slither.” I kept my stance, refusing to show even an ounce of weakness. “Unless you feel like burning in hell today.”