Page 79 of Jett

We storm the house. Kick, Grim, and Trigger take the back door, and I kick in the front, flanked by Tank.

“What the fuck?” Daryl sits on the sofa, his woman in his lap. He unseats her as he reaches for his shotgun, but I press my gun to her temple and drag her back to me. Kurt’s mouth is currently getting acquainted with Grim’s Glock.

“Touch that gun and they both die,” I say.

He glances at me, his wife, Kurt, and then back at me again, easing his open palm into the air.

“Daddy?”

I whirl around and come face to face with a little Nazi offspring. He’s decked out in race-car PJs and rubs his eyes.

“Dylan, go back to bed.”

I cock my head to the side. “This your kid?”

“No,” Daryl says. His head is shaking vigorously as he looks at the child with wide frightened eyes.There it is. The family resemblance.

“Daddy. I’m scared.”

“Go back to bed, Dylan. Everything’s fine.”

I swing my gun around and point it at the kid. “Don’t fucking move.”

He screams and urine soaks his pants and pools at his feet.

“He’s just a kid!” Daryl shouts.

“Yeah, so was my unborn child. You didn’t give a fuck about her when you pushed my old lady to the ground and tried to fucking rape her. You didn’t give a shit about the old woman who tried to save her. The woman you killed. Just like you killed my kid.” I tighten my grip on the gun and point it at the kid’s head again.

“Prez,” Tank says in a warning tone. I glance at the steel-jawed face of my VP. “I didn’t sign up for killing kids.”

“Then fuckin’ leave,” I warn. “You know where the goddamn door is.”

From the left, a movement catches my eye, and I swing my pistol around and squeeze the trigger. I shoot the woman in the head, then I aim at the kid again. The kid screams. Daryl screams, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough. Kurt moves in my peripheral and Grim pulls the trigger. Red mist and brain matter fill the tiny lounge room. The kid’s screams turn to wails. Daryl shouts, begging and pleading with me not to kill his little boy. I wish I could say I felt any mercy for him. I wish I was a better man.But I’m not.

I cock the pistol, squeeze the trigger, and fire the shot.

Even I’m not prepared for the bitter look of betrayal in the kid’s eyes as his gaze meets mine and blood pours from his arm. Nor am I prepared for the thud as his tiny body hits the floor and he screams so loud, I’m surprised the roof doesn’t cave in.

My heart hammers against my ribcage. Blood whooshes in my ears as my club brothers stare at me.None of us signed up for this.

It’s a gunshot wound at worst, a graze at least. The kid will live, which is more than I can say for mine. I lock eyes with Tank. “Get him out of here before I change my fuckin’ mind.”

He hoists the screaming brat over his shoulder and exits through the front door.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Daryl inches forward, and I shoot out both his knees, but I have no intention of letting him off easy.

He screams and falls back to the ground. I look at Kick and Trigger and tilt my chin toward the chair at the small table. They each grab an arm and drag him from the floor. He shrieks, but we’re only just getting started.

The boys tie him to the chair, and when he’s secure, I set the gun on the counter and pick up a paring knife from the block on the bench. I test the blade. A single drop of blood pools on my fingertip. The knife is small, by torture standards, but sharp enough to get the job done.

“That must have hurt, huh? Watching your old lady die right in front of you. Watching your kid get taken away.” The words stick in my throat, thick and burning like acid. “That’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.” I grab hold of his ear and slice it clean off. Blood sprays the carpet and my white T-shirt as Daryl screams. His head lulls, and his eyes roll back as if he’s about to faint.

“Oh, come on, Daryl. You can hold out longer than that. We’re just getting started. You know what the worst part about losing a kid is?” I ask, circling this sorry fuck. “Watching your old lady break, and there’s not a fuckin’ thing you can do about it. Though, I guess I saved you from that fate, didn’t I? That’s okay. I got your little boy, and you know what I’m gonna teach him? That the sons always pay for the father’s crimes.”

“No. Please.”

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