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“Fuck, we’re sorry, man! She’s fine. The crazy bitch hurt herself—”
“She’s not,” I snarl and grab the man’s hand with the gun, yanking it to the side as it goes off. Snapping his wrist, I grind the bones together. “You hurt her, scared her.”
I hear the men we usually work with pull up, followed by the slam of doors as more lights surround us.
“Want us to kill them for you?” Aldridge, the leader, calls. I ignore him for now, staring into the screaming man’s eyes. My fury takes over, demanding I kill him and make it hurt.
“I’m not done yet,” I snap, and then I very carefully break each and every one of his fingers as he screams. Letting him go, I watch him drop to the ground as I crouch down before him. “I hope it was worth it. You’ll die here tonight knowing it’s for her.”
“Please!” he begs.
“Don’t fucking beg, it’s pathetic. Did she beg? Did she cry? No, she kicked your ass because she’s Crew! She’s ours!” I shout in his face. “And now you’ll send a message for me. You tell every stupid fucker in the city to stay away unless they want to end up like you fuckers. Dead, forgotten.”
I nod at Bray and Asher then turn to Aldridge. “You can have those three, this one is ours.”
He whistles, and his men collect them, dragging them over to talk while we surround the idiot who gave the orders, knowing it’s him from Blair’s description. “Anyone else trying to make a move?” I demand, knowing Asher’s fears about the cameras, not to mention the person behind the burner account posting photos of Blair. But that seems personal and petty, this is different.
“Just us,” he admits, but I don’t know if I believe him, so I look up at Asher.
“Could be the truth, but if not, we’ll find whoever it is and kill them too.”
That settles me a bit. “Get him up on his feet.”
Bray tries, but the man just hangs there crying, so he drops him with a disgusted snarl.
“Fine, let him die like a dog on his knees,” I say, grabbing his discarded gun. I fire two shots into his head before wiping it clean. “In the car,” I order, feeling nothing but emptiness at his death bar a twinge of satisfaction that he’ll never touch Blair again.
Together, we get him in the driver’s seat and position the gun. Aldridge drags the other bodies over when he’s done and adds them. We make it look like a fight gone wrong before I stab the gas tank and let it flood the car, adding some from the boot so it’s drenched.
“Are we okay?” Aldridge asks as he watches me.
“Yes, as long as you keep your men in line. One wrong move, and next time, it’s you,” I growl as I light a cigarette and take a long draw on it.
Flicking my cigarette into the gasoline soaked car, I lean back with Bray and Asher, watching it go up in flames.
No one hurts our girl.
No one hurts our family.
