Page 171 of SINS & Riley
I give him the smallest nod.
“You know what, Andre? That’s ironic. Because you’re so fucking close too.”
Then I drive my knee straight into his balls.
He folds instantly, crashing to the floor in a heap. His breath explodes out of him in a wheeze, pathetic against the roar of the crowd.
I don’t give him a second.
I nail him again, and this time he pukes—whiskey and bile splattering across the floor. The stench of acid fills the air, sharp and rancid.
I don’t stop. And not because I'm a damn robot on auto pilot. I don't want to stop.
I kick him in the groin, the gut, the ribs. Chains rattle with every strike. His head snaps sideways when my boot catches his jaw, blood streaking from his mouth as he sprawls across the concrete.
This isn’t about me.
I do it for Riley.
For my family.
For everyone Andre ever scarred, betrayed, destroyed. For the women and children who’ve been rescued.
And fuck it all—I do it for my father. Because deep down, I know Andre’s behind his disappearance. Just as sure as I know now I’ll never be able to prove it.
And I don’t give a fuck.
Today might hold my last breath. But I’ll make damn sure I drag this bastard as close to the grave as I can.
The roar of bloodlust thunders in my ears. They never care who bleeds. Only that someone does.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t stop until nothing’s left of Andre but his teeth, but the party has to end sometime.
A few lackeys finally rip him out of reach.
A wave of boos rolls through the air. And for once, I’m with them.
The Keenans rise—two full rows of Irish muscle—and the crowd falls dead silent. They give the MC a single nod.
“Begin.”
So this is how I die.
Auctioned off like prime meat at a slaughterhouse.
The bidding ignites. Voices climbing over each other, fighting for a shot at my carnage. Millions tossed out like pocket change.
Five million jumps to fifteen. It keeps climbing until I’m not sure if they’re bidding on me or a fleet of jets.
And then?—
“One hundred million dollars.”
For a beat, no one moves. No one breathes.
Then the crowd turns—everyone swiveling to find the source of the voice. Even me.
My eyes slam shut. Fuuuck.
