Page 27 of Psycho

“I always thought of myself as a generous man. I’ve given you chance after chance. I even introduced you to your best fighter. You should be thanking me, no?”

I tightened my grip, and he reached up to get me to lessen up. It was fucking laughable.

I’ve got about five inches on the fucker, and I outweighed him by at least forty pounds. What was more, my weight was muscle weight.

My eyes moved down to the beer belly the fucker was sporting.

I shook my head and pushed him back on the ground, shooting him a look.

“T-Thank you.”

I patted his head, and he flinched. “Since you’re so fucking grateful for all that I have done for you, for all the King’s Men have done for you, shouldn’t you have prioritized paying us back?”

“I—”

I pulled my arm back and punched him in the jaw. His head bounced back, and he cupped his nose to keep from bleeding out. “What happened to all the profits?”

He shook his head. “I have the fifteen percent cut for the King’s Men. You know I would pay for the protection. But the money you loaned me—”

“For your business,” I added.

He paused, then nodded. “For my business, I need more time.”

“More time? It’s been a year. The agreed-upon timeline in which you will pay us back, including interest, no? Correct my math, but that’s five hundred thousand… right?”

He swallowed. “R-Right.”

“Now, you see, if it were just me you owed the money to, it wouldn’t be a problem. But this is Dominic’s money. You remember Dominic, don’t you? The president of the King’s Men. You see, I love that man like my own blood. And that’s a rarity, because I don’t love anyone. And I told him I would get his money back. It wouldn’t look good for me if I just showed up empty-handed, would it?”

He paused, thinking about his answer.

“N-No.”

I hummed. That was the smart answer.

“So tell me. What are we gonna do about it?”

I straightened up and looked down at the man on the ground.

“Please. Just give me more time. I promise I will get the money for you. All of it, plus interest.”

“Yeah? How much time? Three days?”

“Micah, you know that’s not poss—”

“I think three days is being generous, don’t you? I’ll be back in three days. I don’t give a fuck what you have to do to get the funds. Sell your fucking liver in the black market for all I care. Got me?”

He blanched and nodded, the blood from his nose covering the back of his hand. “Yes.”

I walked away without saying anything, getting onto my bike and driving about half a block down the road before parking it behind a tree.

I got off and walked back to the trailer, but instead of getting to Ozzy’s trailer, I went next door and got in without knocking.

Edger was near the small kitchen counter, waiting for his coffee to finish brewing.

He didn’t look over at me as I closed the door and walked further inside, sitting on the couch and making myself at home.

“You know, I could be changing. You could’ve at least knocked.

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