Page 90 of Depraved

Our plan—my plan had failed in the sense that it went in a direction I never anticipated. My selfish needs, my motherfucking greed cost us more than money could ever buy. The damage was done, and right now I wasn’t sure how we’d be able to get back up. But one thing was for sure…I would end the Pythons, and I would cut out Slither’s split tongue and burn it while he fucking watched. I would never stop until I’d carved out his motherfucking heart. After that? Who fucking knew? Maybe this world would have mercy on my soul, and I’d burn right there next to Slither. God knew, I deserved nothing less.

I exited the basement and stepped inside the house. Our safe house was nestled in Coney Island, a place we only used in extreme emergencies. My dad kept this location top secret, and not all members knew about it. The double-story piece of real estate had been placed in a trust which could not be linked back to the Kings. We managed to keep it with a few zeros slapped on a check and placed in the mail each month. My dad was hellbent on having a safe house with a fully equipped medical room in case shit went wrong. It took him two years to revamp the basement, turning it into a hiding spot for the day shit hit the fan. Well, I’d say the shit had pretty much hit the fan right about now.

I stepped outside and onto the back porch where I spotted Onyx cleaning his Harley, and I immediately wanted to lose my shit. “Onyx, you know the rules. Motorcycles locked in the garage at all times.” An entire row of Harleys parked in the back yard was a dead giveaway.

“Relax, would you? It’s almost dark. And besides,” he wiped the side of his face, “one motorcycle won’t alert the fucking cops.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath. “For once, would you just do as you’re fucking told?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” The smirk on his face begged to be wiped off with my fist. Onyx cleaned his hands with a white piece of cloth, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “You plan on avoiding me the whole time we’re here?”

“Maybe.” No use in denying it.

Onyx swept his hand through his dirty-blond hair. “Avoiding problems won’t solve it.”

“Is that what you are? A problem?”

“I dunno. Am I?”

I slipped my hands into my jean pockets, keeping a safe distance from my brother. There were too many mixed feelings raging inside me when it came to him. And a part of me feared he might smell like her since he’d been spending so much time in her room. If I had to catch her sweet scent of vanilla on him, I’d peel his fucking skin off.

Leaning back against the wall, I avoided eye contact with Onyx. “How is she?”

Onyx blew out a cloud of smoke. “If you really want to know, go find out for yourself.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Onyx.”

“Don’t use me to be your eyes and ears when it comes to her. You want to find out how she’s doing, go see her. Don’t fucking ask me.” He tossed his cigarette onto the dirt before turning his back on me and continuing to clean his bike.

I exhaled, bending my knee and placing my boot against the wall.

“So, where did you and Ink disappear to last night?” Onyx didn’t turn to face me as he spoke.

I plucked out a cigarette and placed it between in my lips. “Just went for a cruise.”

“Such bullshit.”

“What?”

“You two were gone for hours, and not even Dutch knew where you were.”

“Dutch doesn’t have to know my every move.”

“Yeah, he kinda does.” Onyx turned in my direction, eyes pinned on me with a scrutinizing glare. “Where were you, Granite?”

I lit the cigarette, blowing out some smoke. “Got nothing to do with you, little brother.”

“There was blood on Ink’s boots this morning. Have any idea how it got there?”

My mind reeled while trying to think of something to say. Goddammit. I told Ink to be careful.

I shrugged and let my gaze drift to the horizon before finally looking back at him. “I’m not your fucking eyes and ears when it comes to Ink.” I flicked my cigarette and straightened. “Want to find out what’s up with him, ask him yourself.”

Onyx snorted and continued to clean his motorcycle, seemingly unfazed by my sarcasm. I grabbed my phone and stomped back into the house.

Ink took his sweet time answering, and I was about to drop the call when his voice came through the receiver.

“Ink, where are you?”