Page 9 of The Thief
“We’re not scared of you,” one of the lads said, standing tall, and Adam laughed.
“You fucking should be,” he growled, and I could see the hesitation in the lad’s eyes. A flicker that he tried to hide.
“Do you think you’re fucking gangsters or something?” another piped up. “Next time we see you, we’ll bring a fucking gun, not shitty knives. We’ll show you how it’s really done.”
This guy obviously had a death wish.
“You’re really notgetting it, are you?” Adam hissed. “There won’t be another time, because after today, you’re never gonna show your faces in Brinton Manor again.”
“Because you won’t have faces if you do,” Will said with a hint of amusement.
“You know”—Colton stepped forward, holding his knife up—“it baffles me that some people think a gun is better than a knife. I mean, knives are much cooler than guns.” He swished his blade in the air with a psychotic grin on his face. “You never know what I’m gonna do with this. Am I gonna stab you? Open a letter? Cut you a slice of cake? Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”
Will laughed, and Colton gave them a wink.
“You’re fucking mental,” one of them hissed.
Colton turned to us and thumbed at the lads behind him. “They think we’re mental now? Imagine what they’ll think when we really lose our shit.”
“We should kick your asses,” another lad spat, curling his lip at us. “You stole his wallet.”
“We didn’t steal shit. It’s right there,” Adam said, pointing to the piss-soaked wallet on the ground.
And then, all hell broke loose.
The lad who’d stomped on the glasses went to punch Adam, swinging his fist, but it was pointless. Adam knocked his arm out of the way, then kicked out, putting the lad on his ass.
Leaning down, spit flying from his angry snarl, Adam barked, “I don’t need a knife to destroy you. I can do it with my bare hands.”
The guy on the floor scuttled backwards, then looking at his friends, he said, “Fuck this shit. We’re done here.”
“I don’t think you are,” Adam replied, stepping on his hand in the exact same way he’d stood on the boy’s glasses only moments ago. Then, putting all his weight on it, he twisted his foot, making the lad scream in pain and stare in disbelief at where Adam was brutalising him.
“What the fuck do you want?” the guy on the floor spluttered.
The other two began to back off, holding their hands up in surrender as Colton, Will, and Devon held their knives out.
Then, in the blink of an eye, they spun around and ran off, leaving their friend pinned to the ground under Adam’s foot, a look of desperation on his face as he watched his last chance at coming out of this with any dignity disappear into the distance.
“Don’t chase them,” Adam told us. “They’re not worth breaking a sweat for.”
Then glancing down at the last guy left, he sneered, “Your friends are fucking cowards. All three of you are. But at least they got the message, and now, you will too. We want you out of our town,” he stated, continuing to grind his foot into the guy’s hand as he spoke. “We want you to stay away from Parkers Academy.” Another brutal twist of his foot. “And we want you to remember who threw you out of this town. You need to tell anyone who thinks they can fuck us over, that the soldiers of Brinton Manor don’t fuck around. You tried it, and you found out what happens if you do. And you didn’t like it, did you?” Adam asked, taking his foot off the lad’s hand. Then leaning down to get in his face, he raised his brows as he waited for the lad to respond.
“No,” he managed to splutter between rasped breaths. “I didn’t. I’ll go... pl... please. Just let me go.”
“We’ll let you go,” Devon suddenly announced, steppingforward. “But I think a little reminder of what you’ve learnt today is needed.”
Devon crouched down, grabbing the guy’s neck, and he grappled with him, clawing at his hands as he tried to fight back, but it was no use. Devon was stronger, and his hand was fucked from Adam’s boot. Devon took his knife and pressed it against the guy’s cheek. The guy shook his head, then stayed deadly still as the knife grazed his skin. His breaths were short pants, his eyes bugging as he stared at Devon, and the sweat trickled down his face as he braced himself.
I watched fascinated as Devon put pressure on the blade, blood trickling from where he was cutting him, and the lad started to scream. Devon moved the blade a little, and the screams intensified, becoming more harrowing, more searing as the lad grew pale with unbridled fear and pain. I was sure he was about to pass out.
Peering down at the lad with the bloody cheek and mangled hand, Adam smiled and said, “That’s enough. I think he’s got the message.”
Devon took a step back, like he was admiring his work, and bending down, he pushed his face into the guy’s on the floor, who was now whimpering like a baby. “You won’t come here again, will you? You’re a fucking loser, aren’t you?” And in that moment, he sounded just like Adam.
The guy didn’t speak, so Adam piped up through gritted teeth, “He asked you a question. Fucking answer him.”
The guy on the floor choked as he replied, “Yes.”
