Page 25 of Crooked Crows (Boys of Briar Hall 1)

“Get him. Let’s get this over with,” Corvus said as Grey and Rook popped out of the small car, both of them heading for the back of it.

Grey opened the trunk, and what was unmistakably a man with his hands bound clambered out and fell onto the driveway with a thud and a groan, breathing heavily.

Fuck.

With a reach like the strike of curved talons, Rook grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, wrenching his head back.

“N-no,” the man choked. “He’s lying. I-I didn’t do anything. If you let me go, I’ll…I’ll pretend I never saw your faces. I won’t say shit. I-I can pay you. I can—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Corvus growled, slamming his door shut to join the others around the back of the Camry. “We warned you, asshole. And you didn’t listen. This is onyou.”

“Please…”

It was hard to tell this far away, but it looked like Rook was fucking grinning. And not just like a little grin, either. He was fuckingbeamingdown at the guy. Like he wanted to lick the smears of dried blood off his face.

“Take him,” Corvus nodded to Rook, and he licked his lips, hefting the guy to his feet by his hair alone. Like it was nothing.

The man spat at Corvus’ feet as Rook began to drag him away.

Corvus just stared at him like he was the most insignificant thing on the planet. A speck of dust in the wind.

“Fuck you!” the man shouted at Corvus, spewing more saliva with his words as he turned his attention to the others. “Fuckallof you.”

The smell of blood and urine reached me on the wind, and my nose wrinkled.

“Fucker pissed himself,” Rook said, holding the guy out at arm’s reach with a scowl as he roughly manhandled him across the lot, carving a path to the shed at the far right of the property.

Corvus followed and Grey rushed ahead to unlock it and flip a light on. From my angle, it was hard to see inside, and I leaned to get a better look, snapping a twig.

Corvus froze mid-stride, his back lifting.

I clenched my teeth, sinking as low as I could go without moving too much.

He turned, his face cast in moonlight looking so violent, all bones and shadows and contrast, that for a second, he looked like a skeleton come to life. Like a grim reaper searching for prey.

His hollow-eyed gaze swept over the lot and the trees before he continued, following his brothers into the small shed and shutting the door behind him.

It took about five seconds before the screaming started. Loud at first, and then muffled as though someone had stuck something in the man’s mouth. They were torturing him.

My stomach lurched.

In Lennox, the Kings ruled the streets, but they didn’t have the reach the Saints did. Or even the Aces. The Kings stayed in Lennox, keeping to their turf, never expanding.

I supposed I could see why.

If the junior members got their kicks torturing people, then how were the senior members?

Fucking gangs.

My upper lip twitched into a snarl.

Gangs stole my innocence. They ruined my mother. And now they’d taken my father, too.

Fuck the Crows.

They were just bad news wrapped up in pretty paper.

For a heartbeat, I considered setting the shed on fire with them inside of it. It’d be easy. Older cars were simple as fuck to hotwire. I’d just back it up to the door, blocking their escape, pop open the gas tank and drop in a match.

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