Page 56 of April’s Fool

I check my weapon one final time, feeling the familiar weight of the gun in my hand. The cold metal against my palm grounds me, focusing my thoughts on what needs to be done. No mercy. No hesitation. I’d have preferred my AR, but this one will do just as well. The custom-grade silencer built into it will keep attention from being drawn.

“Remember,” Cannon says, turning to face us in the back, “we need this clean. No witnesses, no evidence.”

I nod, jaw tight. My SEAL training kicks in, compartmentalizing emotions and focusing on the mission. This isn’t personal—it’s justice for April.

Wrench pulls the van into an alley behind a row of dumpsters and cuts the engine. The sudden silence feels heavy with anticipation.

“Move out,” Cannon orders.

We exit the van in practiced formation, weapons drawn. I take point, moving toward the back entrance where Mortar indicated our targets are.

The back door opens with a soft click under my careful manipulation. I slip inside, gun raised, scanning the dim hallway. The frat house smells of stale beer and sweat, a pungent reminder of the entitled lives these boys have been living.

I can hear voices drifting in from deeper inside the house. Laughter. The clink of bottles. They’re celebrating, probably thinking they’ve gotten away with everything.

Rage burns through my chest like wildfire.

I signal to the others behind me, pointing two fingers toward the source of the laughter. Hazard nods, splitting off with Hornet to flank right while Rimfire and Cannon follow my lead down the left corridor. The house is typical college shit—posters of half-naked women, beer pong tables, and the lingering stench of weed and poor decisions.

Samuel’s voice cuts through the others, that distinctive nasal tone making my trigger finger itch. “I’m telling you, she deserved it. Stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s too good for us.”

My vision tunnels. Every muscle in my body tenses as I approach the door from which their voices emanate. Through the crack, I can see them—four frat boys lounging, drinking, and laughing as if they haven’t committed a crime that deserves a slow, painful death.

“You think she’ll tell anyone it was us?” one of Samuel’s lackeys asks.

“She better not. I’ll kill her for sure if she does,” Samuel snaps. “Besides, I’m not done with her. I’m going to get my hands on her again. I just have to wait for the right time. You know I always get what I want, and I want her pussy. She can give it up to all those biker assholes and still think she’s too good for me. She’s gonna learn where her place belongs.”

Something inside me snaps. Before Cannon can give the signal, I’m through the door, my weapon aimed at Samuel’s smug face. The room falls silent.

“Samuel. Samuel. Samuel,” I tsk out his name, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging inside me. “You like to talk a big game about my wife. Thinking she’s something that belongs to you when she’s already mine.”

Samuel’s face drains of color. The beer bottle in his hand slips and shatters on the floor. The other three fraternity brothers freeze like deer in headlights.

“W-what are you doing here?” Samuel stammers, his bravado evaporating like morning dew.

I step closer, keeping my weapon trained on his face. “You hurt my wife. Tried to kill her. You think I wouldn’t come after you? Oh, and you just threatened her again.”

Hazard and Hornet move in behind me, securing the exits. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air thick with the threat of violence.

“I think we should have a little chat about what you did to my woman,” I say, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. The rest of my brothers fan out, guns trained on Samuel’s friends, who look like they’re about to piss themselves.

Samuel’s eyes flicker around the room, desperately searching for an impossible escape. “This is a mistake. Do you realize who I am? You can’t just come in here and kill me.”

I laugh, the sound hollow and cold. “We know exactly who you are. It’s no mistake. You attacked my woman. Then you had the audacity to threaten her again just now.”

“It’s just talk, man,” he stammers, backing away until he hits the wall. “I would never⁠—”

“Shut up,” I snap, pressing my gun’s barrel against his forehead. “You don’t get to lie your way out of this. Not after what you did to her.”

Samuel seems to grow a pair as he smirks. “Kill me, and you’ll see the inside of a prison. Where’s that leave your little wife?”

“You’re as stupid as you look,” Cannon remarks, stepping forward with arms crossed.

“So, she’s your wife,” Samuel says, looking to Cannon. “And fuckin’ the rest of you. You’ll go to prison for a whore?”

Cannon moves, his hand gripping the man’s throat. “You’re speaking about my cousin, motherfucker. A woman who has my club’s protection and is married to a brother of mine. You’ll die painfully, in her ol’ man’s hands.” Releasing him, my Prez looks at me. “Finish this.”

Nodding, I shove my gun into its holster and step closer to Samuel, gripping his throat and throwing him across the room. His body hits the wall with a satisfying crack.