Lord of London Town

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again, old man,” I said. Dad breathed in deep. “Thought you’d finally cashed in your chips with the devil.”

Dad’s lips twitched and he slowly blinked again: no. That crack, that fucking crack in my chest was back, aching and throbbing, a motherfucking boulder in my throat. I looked over at Cheska, who was watching us with a watery smile on her face. “Got a bird,” I said to Dad, winking at Chelsea Girl, and his milky gaze moved to her.

“Hello, Mr Adley,” she said, stepping a little closer. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Dad looked back to me, like he was trying to say something. Just as he did, Freddie’s phone beeped with a message. “They’ve just got to the dock,” he said. “Chuck’s looking into what happened.” Frowning, I checked my phone, wondering why my cousin hadn’t called me. I’d told him to. And he always checked in.

I brought up his number and was about to give him a call, when suddenly Freddie grabbed hold of the nurse, who was changing a bag on one of my dad’s drips, pulled out his gun, and sent a bullet straight through her skull.

Everything fucking slowed to half speed as I saw the nurse drop to the floor, eyes still wide, and the door to my old man’s bedroom burst open. Men in all black with balaclavas on their faces flooded through.

“CHESKA!” I bellowed as one of the men grabbed her, smothering her mouth with his hand. I let go of my dad’s hand and shot to my feet. I reached into my jacket for my gun, but some fucker tasered me from behind. I fought the volts pulsing through me, electrocuting me from inside. When he shot me with it again, I fucking dropped to the ground. I fought it, arms and legs moving, fucking crawling to get to Cheska, who was screaming under the cunt’s hand and trying to fight free. But two fuckers wrenched me back, tied my hands and held me down on the floor.

“You’re dead,” I snarled at them, never taking my eyes off Cheska. “You’re both fucking dead.”

They dragged me to my feet, and I heard the sound of a gun’s safety unlocking. I tried to force my legs to gain strength, then my head whipped to Freddie, who was holding a revolver to my old man’s head.

Fucking time stopped.

“NO!” I yelled, just as my dad met my eyes, held my fucking gaze, blinking slowly one more time, like he was saying goodbye, and Freddie fired a single shot. Something inside of me shattered along with the loud racket from that bullet. Whatever frayed bit of worn tether had kept me down, grounded, held back from completely losing it and giving myself over to fucking evil, snapped.

There was no surviving this one. The bullet tore through my dad’s head, blood pooling on the pillow behind him. “NO!” I thundered again and used all of my strength to fight the fuckers holding me, throwing them to the ground.

The taser shots had taken most of my energy away. But they had Cheska. They had my fucking bird, and Freddie had just shot my dad. I had moved a few feet, legs dragging on the floor, to Cheska, when one of the cunts scrambled to his knees and tasered me again until my legs fucking buckled. I swerved my head to Freddie.

The fucking traitor that was Freddie. I had suspected someone, but not fucking Freddie.

“Why?” I growled, gritting my teeth as I fought to get back some fucking strength. Cheska screamed another muffled scream, and I set my eyes on the arsehole that had her. She met my gaze, and I tried to tell her with my eyes to hold on.

To just fucking hold on.

“Why?” Freddie said, coming around the bed. I looked at my old man and felt that crack in my chest fucking erupt with lava, the scalding heat that spiked my blood filling me with nothing but red-hot rage. Freddie stopped in front of me, and I imagined what it would be like to wrap my hands around the fucker’s throat.

To squeeze and watch the life drain out of him.

He was my brother. He was my motherfucking brother.

Freddie got in my face. Fucking taunting me. “For my dad.”

My head fucking swam as I tried to think, the taser making me sluggish, pushing a thick fog inside my mind. I thought of Freddie’s dad, of Frank. I didn’t understand. I didn’t fucking understand!

“My old man died because of him,” Freddie said, pointing his gun again at my dad. He must have seen my confusion, because he said, “My old man wasn’t a motherfucking Adley. He was from Deptford. He was a fucking South London boy through and through. And he infiltrated your fucking scumbag family for years. Fed information back to the real fucking lords of this town. His real family.” Freddie smiled at me. “My real family.”