I needed Evgeni and he was all too willing to take advantage.
“I was a little boy.” My chest heaved, my stomach boiled. My blood felt like fire.
“And I gave you a home. I held you while you cried and cleaned your wounds when you were hurt.”
“Those tears and those wounds were because of you.” I slammed my fist against the horn. Evgeni didn’t even flinch. “Move.”
“I loved you, boy. I loved you and wanted so much for you. I thought we could rule this city together. Me on a throne and you as my right hand. You were always my best man, Mack. You were always my strongest gun. Get out of the truck and come back to me. Give me that shipment and return into my service. It’s not too late to repent.”
I felt him punch my child body in the throat, in the stomach, in the jaw, in the nose. I felt him break my child arm and my child leg. I felt him starve away so much of my life and turn me into a black beast that did nothing but stalk the sidewalk in search of whatever prey he sent me after.
My house was empty. My life was meaningless.
Until Fiona.
She came into my world and turned on all the lights.
She made me realize I could be loved by someone, that I wasn’t doomed to exist solely for death and destruction, that I could be so much more.
I could worship her. I could give her the world.
Evgeni never wanted that for me. He needed me empty.
Fiona only wanted me.
I slammed my foot down on the gas.
Evgeni looked surprised. It was the first time I’d ever seen him shocked.
The expression was like sweet honey on my tongue.
He tried to dive out of the way, but he was too slow. The truck clipped him hard, sent him tumbling. I heard his body bounce off the front, heard him scream in pain.
Maybe he was dead. I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter anymore.
I was breaking free. Shattering the bonds that held me back.
Now there was only Fiona. Wherever she was.
She had to be okay.
I crashed into the SUV, slamming it aside. I jolted forward and barely kept control as I swung out into traffic, the truck rolling up on two wheels. The smell of gasoline and burned tires wafted up into the air as I dropped back down and peeled out, flying fast away from the middle school, away from the slaughter, away from my past, away from the man that abused me and tore me into pieces and wanted me to be grateful for it.
I hoped he was dead.
24
Fiona
We took Connor to a safe house that Juan had right on the edge of Temple University’s campus. He parked out front of a beat-up row home.
Next door, college kids sat on the stoop and smoked cigarettes and drank beer out of brown paper bags.
“Don’t worry about them,” Juan said, waving to the young guys. They waved back awkwardly. “They don’t care about a damn thing so long as I never call the cops on them when they have loud parties.”
“Do you live here?”
“Sometimes, when I need a place to hide out. Mack knows where we’ll be.” Juan looked back at Connor. “You holding up okay?”
“I think so.” Connor did seem better. More lucid at least, though still in bad shape.
“Let’s get you inside.” I climbed out of the car and helped him struggle out of the back seat. The college kids watched impassively, flicking their ashes onto the sidewalk and slugging back their drinks. One of them kept quoting Anchorman, and the others laughed every time.
Juan got the door open. The place smelled like it’d been empty for years, musky and a little cold. I put Connor down on an old brown couch and he sighed with what sounded like genuine pleasure. I put my hand on his forehead and he blinked at me rapidly.
“How’d you do it?” he asked quietly.
“I had a lot of help.”
“Come on, that can’t be it. Did Dad help?”
I clenched my jaw and shook my head. “Nobody in the Doyle family knows you’re still alive.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“It was always just me.”
“Wow. I thought… I guess I assumed they’d try to blackmail more people, or that maybe you’d tell someone.”
“I didn’t want them to hurt you.”
“Right. They did anyway.” He closed his eyes.
“I’m so sorry.” I felt tears in my throat.
He opened his eyes again and smiled.
“Don’t be. You saved me. That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, right, you’re right.”
The sound of a car screaming to a stop outside yanked me up to my feet. Juan stood at the front window, gun out again, and started cursing in Spanish.
I joined him.
A big rental truck idled in the middle of the street and Mack stood next to it, grinning like a maniac.