Page 20 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

Ignore them. Ignore them.

“We could’ve recorded it for Boss.”

“Boss would kill us if we fucked him before he could.”

Unable to help it, a chuckle burst out of Evan’s lips. The laughter died down behind him.

Rubbing his bloody hand on his pants, Evan shook his head, still chuckling under his breath. “Do you see these?” he aimlessly twirled a finger around the room, turning to the group of annoyed men. “Mirrors. Take a good look. Tell me what you see and if you expect me to fuck that?”

The men blinked, mouths agape and stance frozen. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Had they insulted and assaulted the boy enough over the years that he’d finally snapped?

The satisfaction of their dumbfounded expressions lasted only a few seconds for Evan. As usual, Bruce was the first to turn from ice to sizzling lava.

“What thefuckdid you say?” Rushing forward, he grabbed the collar of Evan’s undershirt with one hand, grasping his jaw with the other, digging his crusty nails into his skin. “You think you’re some shit just 'cause Boss's been a bit soft on you? Don’t forget your fucking place!”

Despite himself, Evan scoffed. “Maybe if you stopped licking your Boss’s ass all the time, he’d consider giving you some credit too.”

Unmasked fury blazed across Bruce’s face. He shoved Evan back a step, then delivered a solid punch straight across his face.

Pain burst across Evan’s cheek, his whole upper body swinging to the side. Losing his balance, he crashed face-first against the oval mirror, the flashlight slipping from his grip. As he tried to stabilize himself, his bloody hand splayed against the mirror pane.

At least, Bruce hadn’t punched him as hard as he could. Evan knew whatthatfelt like.

He shook his dizzy head before straightening, and his eyes fell on the mirror. His body tensed, as if an invisible force had locked him in place.

From inside the mirror, a pair of glowing scarlet eyes glared at Evan, right beside where his hand had left a bloody print on the non-reflective surface.

Spirits must not be looked in the eye…

But Evan couldn’t look away. As he stared, the mirror surface absorbed his blood clean, the entire frame quaking with ominous tremors.

Evan sucked in a sharp breath, but before he could process what he was seeing, Bruce hauled him back by the back of his coat.

“Why are you running now? Let me show you exactly how I plan on earning credits.”

Bruce grabbed a fistful of Evan’s hair and yanked his head back. One of his men tore off Evan's coat while another caught his arms and twisted them painfully behind his back, rendering him defenseless.

But Evan’s eyes were fixated on the mirror…the little tremor in its frame. On the faint, black smoke seeping from its edges.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With a boost of adrenaline, Evan pushed back into Bruce’s chest and jumped, jamming his boot into the face of the minion in front of him. When their grip loosened, his boot met the crotch of the other two men, too quick to anticipate. Falling totheir knees, the men whimpered on the floor, clutching onto their throbbing area. Just as Evan breathed a sigh, the grip on his hair tightened painfully.

“Let go of me, fucker!” Evan sneered, trying to elbow the face behind him.

Bruce chuckled in his ear, effortlessly catching his arm. “You can’t run now, little shit.”

“Butyouhave to, dickhead! If you don’t wanna die.”

His teeth scraped Evan’s neck. “Keep struggling. I like tha—”

Evan’s elbow finally connected with his stomach, hard. Bruce’s grip went slack from his hair with anoof.

“Sorry,” Evan jumped away with a cold laugh. “You’re not my type.”

One of the men, still grabbing his numb balls, rushed into Evan, slamming him back against the mirror. This time, the glass surface cracked against the impact.

Fuck, if that mirror broke—

---