Page 70 of Beast

Gambit removes two bags of dirty white powder. “Sold to a couple of college kids at the basketball nets in Bracken Prior.”

He hands the bags of drugs to me, and I look at the familiar logo on the front of the bag, my rage crawling up my neck. “What did you tell them?”

“That if they don’t want to die they should hand them over,” Bear says.

“Then we gave them some of the real stuff, courtesy of the Knights,” Gambit adds.

“And that was his only stop before here?”

He nods. “Came straight from dealing lethal drugs to college kids to his rub and tug.”

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Axe says as the biker leaves the building. He reaches into his Unhinged Psychos cut and removes a cigarette, and lights it as he walks toward his bike.

I recognize him. An asshole called Jonesy. He likes to smack women around. Also likes them young. Even better if they’re strung out. Better still, if he’s the one who got them hooked.

He climbs on, and the engine bites into the dark night before he roars away. We watch him leave and then take off into the darkness after him.

We catch up to him out by Deadman’s Bridge. But before we do, he knows we’re behind him and increases his speed, but we catch him before he can make it to the bridge and over into the Psychos’ territory.

I swerve to run him into the ditch and he’s flung onto the embankment.

He tries to scramble away, but I’m on him before he can run.

My first punch to the face is meant to daze him so he’s docile and more compliant.

The second is because of the shit he’s bringing into our town.

The third because I know he’s hurt a lot of young girls, and that shit makes me see red.

The fourth punch…well, that’s for me.

I stand over him. “You think you can come into our town and peddle your shit knowing what it does to those who use it?”

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“Fuck me?” I lean down and grab his collar and smack my forehead into his nose, cracking it open. “Fuck you and your club.”

I pull out a bag of the fake phantasia and rip it open and empty it onto his face. Then I force the bag into his mouth and hold it closed with my hand pressed over his lips. He struggles and fights me, before he’s got no choice but to swallow the bag.

I remove my hand, and he gags and splutters. “I will make you pay for this.”

I tilt my head. “Not if you’re dead.”

I hold up the second bag.

His eyes widen. “No please?—”

I don’t plan on killing him. But if he dies, then it’s one less asshole in the world.

I rip open the second bag and tip it over his bloody face so it mixes with the blood and spit. Then I force him to swallow that one too.

“Gunner will get you for this,” he splutters.

I haul his face closer to mine. “If you survive, tell your president he knows where I am. More importantly, tell him I know whereheis. And if I get even a whiff of this synthetic shit in my town again, I’m coming for him.”

I shove him against the ground and let go. Sweat beads his brow as the drugs start working.

“The damage is already done,” he splutters. Then he starts to laugh. “And there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

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