Page 64 of Genesis

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says. “You’re family.”

My eyes close as the ground sways below my feet. Gravity seems heavier, and life seems broken.

“Okay, bye.” I hang the phone up so he doesn’t hear me cry, and it takes my change. I put a hand over my mouth as tears blur my vision.

Heartache tastes sick. I walk away from the phone. Climbing into my car, I start the motor and stare out at the road as cars pass by.

We always have a choice.

And I guess I’m an idiot. Knowing I should go home, I don’t. I put the car in drive, and I head to the lake house because I’d rather be without him there than at home.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bones

Sixteen days missing

When do they stop looking for a missing person? Surely the case has gone cold by now. One minute we were walking down the street, and the next we vanished. How did I not beat this man? How have I not gotten out of here?

He took the pieces of Bexley’s broken chair, or I would have told her to break a window and use the glass to cut this shit off of me. There’s nothing in this house. It’s void of any furniture besides the chair I’m sitting on. God, this fucking chair. I’m going to beat him to death with it when I get free.

I’ve already got it planned out. I’ll tie a zip tie around his throat just enough to let the tiniest of air through. And then I beat him in the face repeatedly with the iron chair until it breaks every fucking tiny bone. I’ll let him sit here for days like that, and then I’ll come back and break other bones. He’ll bleed internally.

It’ll be one of the best moments of my life.

I look over at Bexley as she lies on the floor with her arms still tied behind her back. She’s grown thinner. Her face is still busted. I can’t save her. I can’t do anything but sit in this godforsaken chair. How many days has it been? Fifteen, sixteen maybe? I’m not even sure anymore. They’re all blurring together.

My legs are numb, and my arms and back feel nearly broken. I’ve stared out the windows enough to figure out we’re somewhere in the Pine Barrens, which narrows it down to shit. The Pines stretch across more than seven counties in New Jersey.

Losing hope isn’t an option, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Danny

2003

Earlier that night

“It’s fucking cold, man,” Carson says, shivering in the back seat.

“Quit your bitching,” I throw back. I woke up this morning with a phone call from Moretti. He gave us all some Nextel Chirp cell phones a while back, which are basically walkie-talkies that allow users to make phone calls, too, but they’re only for him to summon us. He’s still a firm believer in no business talk over the phone. He thinks everyone’s listening.

Who the fuck knows.

“They’ll all be together,”Moretti said.“Now’s our opportunity to get rid of the opposition.”

He told us that Warren and his boys were having a big Christmas bash, so now was our chance to end our main threat. Warren has always been low-key doing shit, but the fact he’s underselling us with shitty ass dope? It’s fucking with Moretti’s money, and it’s killing our buyers because they’re giving themselves more, thinking our dope is as cut as Warren’s, and it’s not.

When Warren can’t get his supply out fast enough, they’re coming back to us. We’ve had more overdoses on our hands this past month than ever before, which is scaring our customers. Warren is screwing everything up. The stupid news thinks there’s a bad batch, but that’s not the case at all. It’s fucking sad that’s even news around here.

Mickey sits across the street with stupid ass Nugget and a few other boys, while Johnny, Carson, and I sit in Johnny’s car outside of the bar Warren reserved just for him and his crew. Family day is over, and now the men party with enough heroin and hookers to keep them busy all night. They have no idea it’s all about to be over. We’ve been sitting here for over an hour now, but there’s only a handful of them. Warren doesn’t have a big crowd of men working for him yet, but that’ll change if we don’t stop it.

Mickey will take care of Warren, and the rest of us will handle the leftovers. Carson takes a swig of the moonshine in the back.

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