Page 57 of Deadly Little Sparrow

“Benny LeBlanc. Ring any bells?” I spit the words through clenched teeth. The confusion in his wide eyes only intensifies as he struggles to drag in a deeper breath while I press my weight harder against his chest. He darts a glance towards Bass, then back at me, licking his cracked, dry lips.

“I don’t…” He shakes his head, everything in his expression is meant to appease me. I huff out an angry, scoffing laugh.

“No, you probably wouldn’t, would you? After all, he was just one in a long fucking line of victims. You get them hooked and then you treat them like your own personal fuck toys because you’re all too goddamn disgusting to get laid the right way.” I toss my phone to the ground as I hiss the words, shoving the blade of my knife up against his throat.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Big Bass rasps, knowing better than to actually try to struggle against Xaviaro. I look over my shoulder and see him doing the same darty-eyed, panicked thing, looking back and forth between Xaviaro and I, shooting helping glances at his dumbass friend, hoping Shit Stain will come up with some brilliant plan to get them out of this.

“Are you fucking stupid?” I actually do laugh this time. I’m sure Xav’s foot is cutting off some oxygen, but come on. This is an open book fucking test at this point. “I just told you. Benny LeBlanc. You fucking assholes abused him, then you watched him overdose, and dumped his fucking body without a care in the world. He didn’t matter to you, but he mattered to me.” I start out screaming the words at him, but by the end, my tone is just as icy and deadly calm as Xaviaro’s expression is.

I’m not going to get the satisfaction of their remorse. They’ll never understand what they took from me, but at least I can make them fucking regret it with their final breath.

“Sorry about your boyfriend or whoever he was,” Shit Stain starts to babble, clearly going into bargaining mode, hoping there will be some way to talk his way out of the fate he sealed the moment he handed my brother a meth pipe. “We’re reasonable. We can make this right. You want money? You want drugs?” he offers. “A custom bike? Tell us, and we can get you anything you want.”

I scoff, leaning my weight into my knee, pressing it into his chest until he yelps. “I don’t want a goddamn thing…” I push the blade of the knife harder into his throat, my hand completely steady now as everything inside of me turns to pure stone. I lean in closer and whisper the next words menacingly, “...except to watch you bleed.” I drag my dagger across his throat before I even finish the sentence.

His eyes go wide and he makes a gurgling sound before his throat splits open and spills a river of crimson blood. My chest heaves, all of the rage and hurt I’ve carried around since the moment I learned my brother was gone flows out of me and seeps into the soil along with the blood that pours from Shit Stain’s open wound.

In my peripheral, I’m aware of the way Big Bass starts to flail, attempting to get out from under Xaviaro’s foot, in spite of the gun pointed at his face. Xaviaro barely budges, waiting like the Queen’s Guard for my next instruction.

When Shit Stain stops twitching and his eyes glaze over lifelessly, I get to my feet. I brush the dirt off of my jeans and take notice of how slow and even my heartbeat is. The storm that’s been battering at me from the inside since the moment Benny fell in with the Reapers has finally quieted. The hurt and anger are still there, but they’re different than they were. I take a breath and it feels like it fills my lungs properly for the first time in ages.

I meet Xaviaro’s gaze, his expression nothing but the same steadying calm that’s been centering me since we met. I jerk my chin towards the edge of the ravine and he nods, easing up his foot from Big Bass’s throat. The man scrambles to flee, but Xav catches him before he’s even fully back on his feet, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing tightly.

“Walk,” Xaviaro growls low in Bass’s ear.

When they reach the ledge, Xaviaro releases his grip, letting the man teeter on the edge for a moment. Bass windmills his arms, looking over the edge into the dark, seemingly bottomless drop-off. He shifts his weight, rocks and dirt dislodging and crumbling under his feet as he tries to step back, to put distance between himself and his inescapable fate. But Xaviaro is right behind him, looming like the silent, deadly threat he is.

I close the distance between us in a few strides, coming up on Bass from the side. He darts his attention between the two of us, looking over my shoulder at the lifeless body of his friend behind me. His eyes tighten after a moment, narrowing as he sets his jaw in angry defiance. He’s not going to die begging the way Shit Stain did. I can respect that. But it’s not going to change the outcome.

“Say his name,” I bark, thrusting my bloodied dagger towards him, pointing the blade at the spot where I can see his pulse fluttering in his meaty throat. “Benny LeBlanc. Fucking say it.”

“Like it’s my fucking fault he was a meth head?” Bass scoffs. “I don’t hunt people down to get them hooked. They come to us. They beg for our dicks too. I don’t remember your boyfriend or whoever the fuck he was, but he probably died with a smile on his slutty, junkie face.”

The rage is back, red and pulsing, throbbing through my veins. I step closer and for all his taunting and vibrato, Bass flinches.

“Say his name and I’ll let you go,” I lie, layering a veil of sweetness over the murder in my tone. “Benny LeBlanc,” I prompt again. “Say it.”

“Benny LeBlanc,” Big Bass mutters my brother’s name through clenched teeth. He doesn’t deserve to even have Benny’s name on his lips, but I want them to be the last words he ever utters.

“Do it,” I say flatly. I was so set on pulling the trigger, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, he’s going to end up in the same place, and none of it is going to bring Benny back. I knew that going in, but having it over just solidifies that reality.

Big Bass opens his mouth like he’s planning to remind me that I promised to let him go. As if a broken promise is the worst thing any of us have ever done. Xaviaro doesn’t hesitate. A single loud pop rings through the air and Bass crumples, falling over the side of the ravine and splashing into the dark waters below.

I blow out a trembling breath and Xaviaro tucks his gun away. He pulls out a fresh white handkerchief and hands it to me. I look down at the blood on my hands and let out a humorless chuckle.

“I still think it would have been funny to make them dig their own graves,” I mutter as I wipe myself clean, or at least as clean as I’ll get without a proper shower.

“It would’ve taken all night though. And who do you think has to fill the graves back in once these fuckers are dead?” He rehashes the same argument he used on me when I brought up the idea the first time a few nights ago.

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand dismissively and he strides over to sweep me up into his arms.

I yelp with surprise and then laugh as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

“How are you feeling?” The cold detachment from a few minutes ago is gone now. He studies my face with softness in his eyes, his arms tight around me.

“I’m fine, you marshmallow,” I tease, bringing my lips to his but stopping short of a kiss. “I think it’s just fully hitting me that Benny is really gone.”

He bridges the last half inch and presses his lips against mine. I smile into the kiss, letting the heavy feelings in my chest unravel and float away on the breeze. Eventually, we break the kiss and he sets me back down.

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