Page 2 of Waging War
Do they all deserve it? Some of them deserve far worse. But it’s the ones who had their livelihoods taken from them by force, who fought back against Diablo’s command, who haunt my nightmares. They’re protecting what’s rightfully theirs, and I get a front-row seat to watch as everything they’ve worked toward is ripped from their grasp, one beating or manipulation at a time.
Yes, the voices cackle, and I do nothing to stop them as they sink their fangs deep into my psyche. In fact, their presence is welcome here. I need them to get through this.
“Your sins cannot go unpunished,” I say in a voice that isn’t entirely mine. It’s too content to feed a side of me I’d never known before I became Diablo’s enforcer.
The first strike is quick and merciless.
“Ah!” Tony shouts, throwing himself back as my fist collides with the bridge of his nose.
“Hold him,” I demand, completely detached.
Alfonzo and Félix grab his shoulders. “If you’re going to be a thief, then you’ll pay the consequences like one,” I say to both him and myself. “This is your punishment for betraying not only Diablo but your family, and you’ll take your punishment quietly.”
I rear back and hit him again. Skin splits beneath my knuckles as he cries out, and the creeping darkness surrounding my vision continues closing in.
Swinging again, my fist connects with skin and bone, but I’m no longer there. I’ve gone numb as my demons fuel me with an anesthetic strong enough to drown out his cries and the scent of piss now saturating his pants.
He deserves this.He knew what could happen.
But it doesn’t make me feel better, and when I check back into with the real world, I’m fighting the urge to vomit. The man’s mouth and nose are so swollen and bloody that he can’t so much as whisper.
“Drop him off to his family. Let them deal with him however they see fit.”
Félix helps Alfonzo drag the man across the lot. Tony loses both his shoes as his heels scrape across the pavement, but he’s unable to hold his head up. Once they finish tossing him into the back of the van, Félix opens the driver’s door and meets my gaze.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was judging me.
The engine turns over after he slams the door shut. I stare at the taillights as they turn off onto the road and run a bloodied hand through my sweat-slicked hair.
Glancing down at the crimson splatters covering my shirt and arms, I fill my aching lungs with an unsteady breath. I’m not sure what disturbs me more—that I’ve just lost another piece of my fragile humanity or how good I’ve gotten at not caring.
* * *
“Happy New Year.”
The sultry rasp of the female lying beside me brushes across my skin as the clock on the bedside table flicks to 12:01.
Nothing about it seems particularly happy to me.
Samantha trails her fingers across the skin between my pecs in long, languid strokes.
“Yeah. Happy New Year,” I mumble.
I should be touching her more, maybe even tucking myself into her warmth, but I can’t shake this ominous dread tickling the back of my skull. I don’t want to be an asshole to Sam, but I’m teetering on the brink of insanity, and one little push is all it would take to send me over the edge.
Most nights, I’m convinced ceasing to exist would be easier than all of this. Easier than the blood and sweat that’s been forced from my body over the last eight months under Bruce’s control.
I’ve been missing Jack and Derrick more lately. I miss the way we used to fuck around with each other and that sense of unshakable brotherhood.
Sam’s the only source of company I’ve had since I’ve been here.
When we met, she was a mousy little thing. She brought me food and clothes after Bruce’s lackeys had knocked me out and dragged me away from town—all to lure Jack into his trap.
She confided in me once that she’s always wary of the men Bruce brings back here. That subtle fear in her gaze solidified my want to guard her, but for as meek as I once thought her, she’s tougher than she looks.
She’s got to be to survive a hell such as this.
Sam pouts before poking the center of my chest. “Why are you so grumpy?”
