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1
Darkness bathes the extravagantly furnished living room, digging into the corners and peeking around doorways, as the studious Mr. McGregor sleeps in his bed upstairs, oblivious to the fact his end is coming and his permanent slumber awaits.
Sweat trickles along my spine—not from the nerves over what I’m about to do, or from fear at being caught sinking an axe into a man’s skull, but because this middle-aged youth counselor makes buckets of money from his work, meaning he has no trouble keeping the heat on too high in the winter… unlike those he counsels.
My fingertips fizzle with sensation as they wrap around the tool’s handle and flex under the weight of ten pounds of wood and steel.
“Garret?” My friend, my brother from another mother, tiptoes through the doorway with his back bowed and footsteps light. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah.” But before I head up the stairs and do what I’ve come here to do, I turn to my friend and press a hand to his shoulder. “You can turn around,” I whisper in the dimness. “Go out the front door and bolt. No one has to know you were here.”
“But, Garret—”
“It only takes one to finish this. There’s no reason for both of us go down for it.”
“No. I’m here.” His voice grows stronger, and under my hand, his shoulder hardens.
When I look down between us, I spy the tire wrench fisted in his hand, wrapped in his long fingers and held by decades of hatred.
Paul McGregor’s death won’t be gentle or pain-free. It won’t be a sweet slipping into the night or a soft pass-over. It’ll be brutal and bloody, the kind nightmares are made of. And when it’s done, there’ll be no mistaking who was responsible.
“I’m staying with you until it’s done,” Gage continues. “Brothers for life, remember?”
I stare into his eyes, my brown to his blue. He’s older than me by just a couple of years, but for the longest time, I’ve felt like the older brother. The caretaker. The gate, keeping the worst at bay and the monsters away.
Finally, when his gaze remains intent and his hand flexes around his weapon, I nod and turn toward the stairs. “Alright. Let’s go.”
