Page 54 of Havoc
It reminds me of the second before a battle begins. Sitting at the brink of war before all hell breaks loose. Sending a final prayer to the other side, knowing very well where the day might end. It reminds me of the silence before the first gunshot. Before any explosion. Before anyone knows what way the pendulum of fate will swing.
I’ve seen many men break in that second.
Fearing death.
Or worse, surviving and being forced to live with the memories. I’ve seen men find God in massacres.
All I find is her.
I close my eyes and rub the hourglass on the back of my finger.
I find my center.
The only peace I’ve ever really known.
Reyes is already bound to a chair in the center of the room, like I knew he would be. We’ve been holding him in a cell at an outbuilding on the property, but Ghost had plans to work on him this morning. Knowing Ghost, he had a prospect bring Reyes here early so he could sit with his fear for a bit.
Waiting and wondering what pain will be inflicted.
But it’s not Ghost he’s going to face this time. And when Reyes’s dark eyes meet mine across the Shack, he must sense the current of rage rippling off my shoulders because his face pales.
Good.
Now he has an idea of how Aimee must have felt.
I don’t hesitate as I stalk to the center of the room. And with the full force of my rage, I slam my fist into Reyes’s face. Bone cracks. Blood spews from his nose.
I hit him again.
And again.
Until one eye is swollen shut, and he’s gurgling.
That sound is all that stops me because I’m not ready for him to choke on blood and die just yet. That would be too easy.
I grip Reyes by his dark hair. It’s grown longer in the few weeks we’ve held him at the compound, torturing him for answers. I pull his head back and stare down at him, bound to the chair.
Something like a grin splits his face as he looks up at me with the only eye that will open. “I was wondering when you’d come see me, Havoc.”
He’s taunting me.
Begging for death.
“How is she—” He barely has time to get that question out before my knuckles slam into his face again.
While Ghost prefers knives and Legacy prefers guns, I’m more like my president in that I prefer to get my hands on someone. To feel their soul shake in their body. Toknow that it’s my fist—my fingers—that will rip them from this world.
The door to the Shack opens again, and from the shift in energy among my brothers already here, I don’t have to look to know it’s Steel. I do anyway, glancing around the room.
Steel pauses inside the door as Chaos murmurs something to him and then Soul. Ghost and Legacy stand in silence a few feet away. Everyone is in various states of dress. Soul didn’t bother with a shirt. But he did slip on his cut before following me out here.
Steel must have told them all to hurry after I hung up on him. He knows me well, and I don’t doubt my anger bled into my tone. That and the fact that I never disrespect my president by ending the call first.
Still, no one has tried to stop me, which means they all sense I wouldn’t do this without a damn good reason.
I watch Steel move farther into the Shack, stopping beside Ghost. Like the others, he doesn’t say anything to me, and I’m glad because the last thing I need right now is to defy an order from my president.
For her, I would.
