Page 42 of Black and Brown

The first knife grazed the man’s jaw, causing blood to flood down his chin.

Mirage made the second ricochet off the brick wall and strike the man’s forehead. Not with enough force to kill, but enough to open a gash that revealed flesh and bone. The third was thrown with such precision it severed the man’s ear.

It happened so fast that the bastard didn’t know which wound to clutch first as he dropped to the ground, releasing a cacophony of curses.

The other three started at the commotion and turned to see what the hell was going on.

With sinister composure, Grace slammed the butt of his weapon against the second one’s skull so hard Mirage heard a life-altering crack before the man fell face-first to the ground.

It was a blow that ensured he wouldn’t wake up for several days.

With two of his buddies down, the other turned and ran.

Grace ignored him. Runners weren’t his job.

To the thugs, Mirage was a living shadow.

He threw another blade over Grace’s shoulder that embedded into the back of the fleeing man’s leg, slicing through muscle and tendons.

He’d need a prosthetic to walk again.

Eyes wide, the one who’d issued the threat to violate another man’s wife was the last one standing.

The battered victim scurried across the ground and out of the way.

With his back against the brick wall, the piece-of-shit gangster raised his palms in surrender as if that would stop them.

Grace whipped his hand out and gripped four of the man’s fingers, snapping the bones like twigs, ensuring he’d never be able to punch anyone again.

Ignoring the yelling and crying around them, Grace aimed his peacemaker and fired.

The first shot grazed the thug’s ear, a whispered taunt of death before he lowered his Beretta to the bastard’s groin.

The threat of injury to that organ was many men’s greatest fear.

Under the sliver of moonlight, the man’s face turned ashen as he clutched his mangled hand, struggling through the pain and the unimaginable fear of what was coming next.

“Oh God. Please don’t…not there,” he begged. “Anywhere but there.”

“You threaten to rape another man’s wife, then call on God for mercy?”

Grace didn’t often speak to his victims, but when he did, his every word was laced with venomous intelligence.

The man was begging a Raven for mercy, a word no longer in their vocabulary.

The silenced Beretta whispered its deadly intent inside the dark alley. The bullet exploding from the chamber sounded like air itself being penetrated. It was a direct shot between the man’s dick and balls.

The sudden impact made the pervert’s eyes widen, reflecting the horror of realization.

It took a couple of seconds for his mind to catch up before disbelief marred his ugly face.

His scream was so loud and irritating that Grace slammed his fist into the man’s throat, crushing his larynx, making sure he could never utter such a threat again or be able to carry it out if he did.

Their target slumped to the ground and passed out.

Grace leveled a hard glare at the battered victim. A look into Grace’s eyes was all it took to send him crab-walking backward. The man would probably give his life over to God in the morning.

He and Grace left the alley without a second glance. They’d already be in the park enjoying their walk before the authorities and ambulance arrived.