Page 77 of Wreckage of Us
“What the fuck.” My surprise can’t be disguised. “Are you sure?”
Wyatt gives me a positively evil smile. “Oh yeah. He is dead this time.”
“What did you do?” I ask in awe. I never imagined my brother being able of this kind of violence. I always thought he would’ve never survived had he stayed in the club.
“I got together with, wait for it,” he points at me like a goofball, “my father.”
“What?” I snort in amusement. But I am seriously fascinated by him right now.
“I was angry because that motherfucker tried to kill my brother and was going to come after my favorite nephew,” he shrugs like it’s a no brainer, then continues. “Jon Stewart was angry because the motherfucker tried to kill the woman he apparently loves, which,” he looks at me pointedly, “were you aware the shit was that serious?”
I just shake my head no. My throat is way too scratchy, and it is painful when I speak.
“We’ll get back to that later. But we were both angry, so we strategized and blew the fucker into a million pieces. Snake, too,” he adds for good measure.
“Are you fuckin’ sure?” My voice comes out like I’m being strangled. And I have to ask because it’s not like we didn’t think he’d been blown to pieces before.
“Positive,” he nods. “Jon called all his favors in. They loaded the fucker in a van,” he explains, “drove ten miles outside the city, it was just a bunch of empty fields there, on the way to the federal prison. Both he and Snake were supposed to be held in the infirmary there. A second van followed the convoy. The driver and guards stopped in the middle of the road, got out. A trailer truck came out of nowhere and ran into them. Everyone stayed back while the van blew up with Pops and Snake in it. Just the two of them. As God intended,” he started cracking up.
I don’t want to get my hopes up before we celebrate this grand event.
“And how are you so sure of all this?”
“I was in the second van with Jon,” Wyatt informs me like it is the most normal thing in the world. “We watched it all. Close enough to singe my damn eyebrows just about,” he jokes. “Not to mention, they were both pretty fucked up anyway from Becca beating Bricks up with the baseball bat. The other chick got Snake really good with a frying pan. He needed a bunch of stitches. It was epic,” he snorts.
“What chick?” And Jesus, Becca took Pops out with a baseball bat. I am so proud of her while I also can’t believe she put herself in the path of danger like that.
“The neighbor, I guess,” Wyatt informs me, and my mind is blown. Hot Chick took Snake out. I didn’t see that coming.
“Did you know I actually know her?” Wyatt continues.
“Hot Chick?” my eyebrows go up in surprise.
“Yeah, she was married to my business partner. She’s a bitch,” he concludes.
“Yeah,” I start laughing. “I gathered that, too. But I owe her for this one.”
“Oh, for sure,” Wyatt nods in agreement.
“And everyone else is safe,” I ask for confirmation one more time. My chest hurts, and it is not from the wound I got during my fight with the fucker who happened to be my sperm donor.
“I swear on my life, Dyl,” Wyatt promises, all humor gone from his voice. “He is gone. It’s over.”
“Fuck.” All tension leaves my body at hearing it.
“You always say that, Dylan,” Becca’s voice chastises me from the doorway and my head snaps that way. “At this rate, it’ll most likely be our baby’s first word.”
It is so close to what I swear she said to me in my dreams while I was struggling to wake up, I want to weep in relief that she is here with me.
“Bex,” I croak. “I love you.”
She blushes to the roots of her hair but doesn’t say the words back. I crave hearing those words from her like it is the strongest drug.
“Dylan,” Ma steps from behind Becca, her face a mask of sorrow. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”
Devereaux is next to step inside my hospital room. He just watches me carefully with calculating eyes. I don’t say anything to him other than mouthThankyou. He understands and nods back in acknowledgement.
I allow my mother to envelope me in a warm hug. She starts crying, and I don’t push her away. She needs this. And, at some level, I need it as well.
