Page 47 of Scar

[WiseWave620: I hope wherever you are that you’re happy, Julian. Of all of us, you deserve it.]

[WiseWave620: Bye.]

* * *

Whamp!Whamp! Whamp!

Scar shot up from his seat at Tally’s kitchen table. The sound, like a burglar alarm, was coming from Tally’s bedroom. Dagger in hand, Scar ran across her living room and into her bedroom, the one place he’d never entered when she was in the apartment.

Tally was sitting up in bed, the light from her phone illuminating her face. “It’s the security alarm at the restaurant,” she said hastily as soon as he entered. The sound ceased after she verbally acknowledged the alarm. Rushing out of bed, she ran for her closet. Scar tried not to take notice of the skimpy little pajama shorts she was wearing or the spaghetti-strap tank top. “Go!” Tally shouted at him. “You’ll be faster than me! I’ll get there on my own! Go!”

Hating to leave her, but knowing she had a point, Scar left.

Once down on the sidewalk, he bolted eastward towards the riverfront and her restaurant. He could smell the smoke before he could see the building. The entire brick structure was engulfed in flames.

It wouldn’t have mattered if Scar had waited for Tally or if Tally was with him. There was nothing to be done. Even the roof of the building next to the restaurant looked like it was on fire or nearly.

There was no doubt that it was arson. If there was a gas leak or some other explainable reason for the massive fire, it wouldn’t have left the windows intact. No, something else was burning inside and it was burning extremely hot. Also, Scar knew from Tally that she’d spent a lot of money on a new fire suppression system when she’d bought the building. Yet, Scar was willing to bet money that none of it was working properly.

He went around the side of the building where he knew the water main was. If it had been tampered with, he might be able to get it running again.

Scar was nearly to it when he heard a high-pitched shout. Thinking it belonged to a woman, Scar skidded to a halt. He looked around until he spotted a dark vehicle at the end of the alley. Between the glow of the fire and the nearly full moon, Scar was able to make out the outline of a man heading towards the vehicle. He was dragging something behind him.

That high-pitched cry rang out again. This time, Scar was able to place it as that of a child. Leaving the fire to the professionals, who were on their way based on the sirens in the distance, Scar bolted down the alleyway.

A man shouted in pain. “Fucking little brat! You’ll pay for that!”

The roar of the fire behind him drowned out the sound of the slap, but Scar saw it in the moonlight. The little body the man had been dragging collapsed to the asphalt.

Scar reached into his vest, pulling out two of the daggers Tally had admired so much only hours before. Without stopping his run, he threw both, one from each hand. They pierced through the flesh, muscle, and bone of the man’s hands as he was reaching for the child again.

The sirens sounded louder.

Scar leapt over the small body on the ground, his boots colliding with the man’s chest. This close, Scar recognized Gordon Tremont’s minion. The one Scar had let live to bring the news back to Tremont that his street thugs were dead.

The man’s eyes went wide when he saw Scar, recognition on his face. “Yo…you!” he stammered out. “Wait! It’s not what you think!” He held up his hands as if to stop Scar.

Scar reached forward, pulling his blades from the center of the man’s palms. Screams filled the alleyway.

“He’s just a street brat! He’s always begging for money and food! No one will miss him!”

Scar did not bother to question who would misshim. Instead, he crossed both daggers across the man’s throat, the new parallel lines immediately flowing crimson. As the man gripped his throat in a useless attempt to save his own life, Scar reached for the man’s shirt to wipe the blood off of his daggers.

Scar didn’t even know the lackey’s name. He’d struck a child, and that was a death sentence in Scar’s book.

Tucking his daggers away, Scar turned his back on the still breathing dead man to look at the crumpled up little body on the ground. It was the little homeless boy Tally fed each morning, the one Scar had given the new sneakers to.

Scar knelt beside him and was relieved when he saw the rise and fall of his little chest. He just seemed knocked out cold. Still, Scar couldn’t just leave him here.

Reaching out, Scar lifted the little boy up, cradling him to his chest. Pain lanced up his arms, but Scar bore it. The little boy needed help, and that was worth all the pain in the world. As firetrucks pulled up in front of the restaurant, Scar headed away.

Gordon Tremont was breathing his last breaths. He’d taken something from Tally that she loved. And Scar was going to make himbleedfor it. He needed to get the boy somewhere safe and then…

Then Scar had some hunting to do.

CHAPTER12

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

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