Page 110 of Hate Wrecked

ROWAN

What isit to end someone’s life? To end their breath? I’ve trained for this, built my body into a machine and hardened myself to this reality, this possibility. But I’ve never been here.

His sneer makes me turn to ice. It tells me who he is—confirms it.

I’m stronger than him, but he has a lot to lose. His freedom. His long-kept secret. And he has killed before.

Riley says my name like a warning. “We need to turn him in, Rowan,” she pleads.

I look down at him, watch his eyes. The fear there is frightening. I’m not a monster. I’m not him. I take one step back. Riley doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to see him die right in front of her. She wants to see him pay on solid land, back where everyone can see his face. I put little faith in the justice system. I put trust in little else than my feelings for Riley.

I grab the man, hoisting him up and maneuvering his arm behind his back. Riley follows as I push him toward the stairs that lead below deck. He doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t move with haste as I shove him down, the grip of the pistol slick in my palm. He stumbles, catching himself on the doorway, and shoots me a look over his shoulder that’s all venom. “Rowan Finn. A man of honor. Unlike daddy dearest.”

Once inside, I push him forward. “Sit. And fix the radio.” He doesn’t move fast enough, so I press the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. “Now.”

He drops into the chair with a muttered curse and starts flipping switches, hands twitching like he’s stalling. I can see the exact moment he realizes I’m not going to let him play games. He exhales through his nose and leans in toward the console.

“It’s not gonna work,” he says without looking at me. “You should know. You snuck your ass down here and took my gun. Don’t tell me you didn’t try then.”

“Try it anyway,” I growl.

He does. Static crackles. A faint hiss. Then nothing. He glances back at me, smug smile on his face. “You must have fried it,” he says. “Or, someone ripped the fuse, jammed the transmitter, too.”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Riley asks behind me, voice low.

He shrugs. “Butch didn’t trust nobody. Said jam it the minute anything smelled wrong. You didn’t mention the girl when we arrived. Smelled wrong.”

I don’t wait. I grab him by the collar and press the gun to his temple again. “Undo it.”

He lifts both hands, mock calm. “You want me to fix it, I need parts. Fuse, wire, solder, something conductive. It’s not magic, man.”

“Then get creative,” I snap. “You and your friends were planning to leave—so don’t pretend you didn’t have a way to radio back if something bad happened.”

He scowls but gets to work, popping open a panel under the dash. I watch as he rips a thin wire from a side compartment, then pulls a gum wrapper from his back pocket and peels off the foil.

It’s a hack job. But it might just work. I chuckle. “I guess you’re not as dumb as you fucking look.”

He glares back at me, then twists the foil and wire together, hands shaking. I don’t let my guard drop—not for a second.

When he flips the switch again, the radio pops and crackles. A light blinks green.

He looks up at me. “You’ve got maybe one shot before it shorts. When you’re back home, maybe remember I didn’t have to do this.”

I shake my head. “Men like you belong at the bottom of the ocean. Not the man you guys murdered. Not the woman you terrorized. But I am a man of honor. So you’re going home. And not with another secret to keep. They all come out. You’re going to pay for what you did to that woman. What you tried to do tomy woman.”

I snatch the mic from the holder. Press the button. “This is Rowan Finn. I’m aboard the Siren’s Wake, a vessel stolen by three men here on Elderslie Atoll. I have Riley Williams with me. We shipwrecked months ago on the vessel Vanishing Point. Our captain suffered a heart attack. This is Rowan Finn. We are stranded on Elderslie Atoll. We need immediate evac. Repeat—mayday. Multiple injured. Hostile presence. Request rescue.”

For a second, just static. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. I can hear Riley behind me, fidgeting. After a breath, she grips my arm and buries her face in my shoulder. I prepare to repeat my plea.

And then, we hear a voice.

“Rowan Finn, this is Coast Guard Sector Honolulu. Copy that. Please confirm position.”

A breath leaves my lungs, sharp and sudden.

I lower the mic, still aiming the gun at one of the bastards who tried to strand us here, and I fucking smile.

A SICK BROKEN THING

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