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“To kill those motherfuckers who hurt our brother.” I stomped toward Hayden’s precious Ford.
An hour later, Lachlan had the two douchebags tied up on their living room floor. We’d beaten them unconscious.
“Now what do we do with them?” Lachlan asked, wiping blood from his hands, his primal side calming down.
He lived for that shit. Oddly, I didn’t care for the hand-to-hand combat. My hands ached and throbbed in pain that I hid from Lachlan.
“I’m so glad you asked.” I had something more hands-off in mind. But dark and deadly.
The house had a long driveway, and we parked Hayden’s Crown Vic in the back near the garage. Out the kitchen door, we carried the bodies and tossed them into the trunk.
I took over driving.
“Where are we going? You don’t know Boston,” Lachlan said. “Let me just shoot them so we can get out of here. I’m fucking hungry.”
“I want them to suffer,” I said, with a growl.
We drove around, me taking every turn where the night grew darker and darker. It was close to three a.m. at that point, and in a few hours, it would be light.
Down a few dirt roads, we found an abandoned railway shed. A chained fence blocked us, but Lachlan got out with a bolt cutter he grabbed from his car and took care of the fence.
I cut the lights and the engine. Only the moon illuminated my way from rows of skylights above, some with the cracked glass or broken pieces missing.
Perfect…
After pushing out of the car, the heavy-as-fuck door swinging back at me, nearly slicing my leg off, I got to the trunk and popped it open.
Yeah, they were awake and pissed. But still tied up.
Lachlan lifted both of them out of the trunk practically with one hand. I would never be that strong.
He dumped them on the ground, and it felt great to watch them squirm.
“What the fuck?” one yelled.
“You’re dead, asshole. Do you know who my father is?” the other mumbled around missing teeth.
“I couldn’t care less,” I said with a swift kick to the guy’s nuts.
“What do you want with us?” douche one asked.
“You go to MIT, are you that stupid?” I said. “You lay a hand on Balor O’Rourke from Astoria and now you’re tied up, beat to shit.”
“Oh fuck,” missing teeth guy grumbled.
“Looks like someone’s brain came back online.” Lachlan leaned against the car. “So, what are we doing here? Running them over one by one until they’re dust?”
A smelly yellow stream trickled from douche one’s pants. Dude pissed himself.
“No. That’s too good for these animals.”
Adrenaline pumping through my veins made me stronger than I had the right to be. I swung one guy around until his feet were facing the back of the car. I loosened the rope enough to hook it to the bumper.
“What the fuck!” the guy yelled, trying to get a foothold to stand up.
“I see what we’re doing.” Lachlan stepped toward me to help. “Hee hee, cool.”
“No. This is my show. My kill,” I said with gritted teeth. “I want Da to know I did this.”
