Page 101 of Nest of Thieves
Damien leans his head back and releases a big puff of smoke. “Anything else you boys need to tell me about?”
The condescension has me gripping my knife a little tighter. We’re far from boys. Maybe he’s forgotten the monsters he created when he took us in. We’ve moved away from the violent side of the business, but there was a time when we were his best and most ruthless killers. Vette got us out when he realized how much blood was on our hands. He’s the reason we got the chop shop, and he’s the reason all my extra energy goes into something more productive than murder. I quite like killing the bad guys, though. Watching them piss themselves and beg for mercy.
That’s my favorite part.
Damien isn’t all bad. A big part of his business is putting a stop to the human trafficking in the city. I’m not delusional, though. The only reason he started combating the evil is because I demanded it. A condition of joining his crew was that he’d eradicate the assholes who get off on selling flesh.
“Let me know when you take care of the 609 Vandals.” Damien dismisses us and we stand as one.
Vette glances at me.You good, he asks without a word spoken.
I nod and head out of the club, searching the club for the asshole who wanted to fight earlier. He’s nowhere to be found. Lark’s hand clamps on my shoulder before I can slip deeper into the dancing crowd to find someone to fight with.
“Let’s go home. You can take it out on me.”
“Fine,” I say, storming out of the building and climbing into the back seat of the car. I won’t hurt Lark, but I need to hit something. Better yet, I need to draw blood, but I’ll save that for the Vandals. They’re going to regret killing Orion. I’ll make sure of it.
The drive is quiet, and I fight against the horrid memories of my childhood—the reason I insisted Damien seek vengeance for every child who might be like me. Halfway home, I lose the battle with my mind, and my lips press into a thin line as I breathe through the memory.
My chest heaved and warm blood trailed down my face. Every part of my body was trembling with rage. I growled and spun, lashing out at invisible assailants again and again until the cops showed up.
“Holy shit.” An officer whispered to the other, but I heard his words. I heard the edge of fear.
“Stay back,” I shouted, pointing the knife in their direction. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” My voice trembled but my mind was settled. I’d kill anyone who tried. Never again.
“Fuck, man, he’s only a kid.”
“We’re not going to hurt you, buddy. We’re here to help,” the other officer said, lowering his gun. “Did you take care of all the bad men?”
I tightened my grip on my knife, hearing the kids behind me whimper. “I’ll gut you like I did them,” I threatened.
He knelt on the blood-soaked ground and raised his hands. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help.”
The other officer edges closer, and I flinch, then roar in annoyance because I’m not supposed to be afraid anymore. I can kill them all. With a vicious shout that reverberates through my nine-year-old body, I launch myself at him. The one kneeling whips out a stun gun and shoots me before I can hurt his partner. My body convulses, and I collapse to the ground.
The memories ebb away, leaving me with clenched fists and a stronger desire to hit something. I woke up in a room full of stuffed animals. The CPS woman gave me a warm smile and reassured me things would get better. She lied. Things never got better; they only got different. Nothing ever compared to what my father did to me, and I never saw the asshole again because he died in prison.
“We’re almost home,” Lark says quietly.
Almost home. Almost back to Jo. I nod and stare at the passing lights, hating that she’ll see me like this. Hating that she’ll witness how broken I am. Once she sees the splinters of my soul, will she still want me?
* * *
We don’t have an official boxing ring, so Vette lays out mats on the open space of the gym floor while Lark and I tape our hands. Protective gear would be smart, but I want to feel the punches. I want to be reminded of my mortality. Lark and I meet on the mats, bumping knuckles before falling onto either side of the makeshift arena. The door to the gym opens right as Vette calls the first round.
Lark strikes out with his left fist, not even giving me a chance to check in with Jo. I duck and kick, but he blocks it. Since the casino job, things have become more open. I can steal kisses and grab her ass whenever I want. It was only a matter of time before she saw this part of our life.
Lark and I dance around some more, throwing and dodging hits. He’s not even trying that hard. Asshole.
“Stop fucking around, Riku!”
Lark’s entire face darkens, and he throws three quick punches. Jab, cross, hook. I block each one, slipping out of reach and throwing an upper that hits his chest. He grunts and comes at me again, this time with the full force of his training. Lark might be the nerd, but he’s also the best fighter. A five-punch combo and a kick push me to the edge of the mat. Panting, I throw a cross but miss blocking the hook he sends at my face.
His taped-up knuckles glance across my cheek. White hot pain erupts from the spot, but I don’t have time to focus on that. I spin with the force of the hit, dropping into a deep squat and sweeping at his legs. Lark jumps over them and sends a knee at me. I tuck and roll, popping to my feet and sending back the same five-punch set at him.
Lark lands a kick on my thigh.
Jo gasps when my leg buckles, but she’s never seen us fight before. I recover quickly and manage to land a solid punch. Lark barely stumbles, only rebutting with double the force of his initial attacks. Minutes pass and more hits land. More pain floods through my body. Jo whispers something to Vette, but he tells her to relax.
