Page 70 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

“Amazing.” He’s wisely waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Thanks. How’s your leg doing?”

“Like shit.”

“Nice, nice.”

The door opens behind me, letting in Thunder, Shadow and Outlaw. Shadow hands out foam earplugs. We all put them in, making a show of it. I hold up a little cardboard pack with a set. “Want some? It’s about to get a little loud in here.”

He frowns suspiciously, but I don’t think he’s quite figured it out yet. And here I was told he wasn’t a fucking idiot. He shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.” I unlock his cell, then back off.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re gonna kill you now. Thought it’d be more fun if you were moving a little. The earplugs are because gunshots echo like fucking crazy in here. Sure you don’t want some?” I pull my gun outta my belt. The others do too, but for now they’re hanging back, letting me run the show.

This is my revenge after all.

“Fuck.” His eyes drop to my piece, and his shivers are visible from across the room. “You don’t gotta do this.”

“We don’t. But we will. You almost fucking killed me, buddy. You didn’t think you’d get away afterward, did you? Guess what? When I’m done here, I get to go back to my nice life with friends I can trust and my beautiful pregnant old lady at home. And you’ll be fucking worm food.”

He makes a stab at getting away, slamming the cell door open, just short of smacking Thunder in the face. It makes a lot of noise, but you know, we thought of that.

The only way for him to retreat is deeper into the Pit, and unless he wants to try another cell, that’s not gonna gain him much. “Please. Fuck, I’ll do anything. What do you want? I’ll make it happen.”

Outlaw chuckles. “Well, you’re right there. Dying works for me.”

I aim and fire.

The gunshot echoes, just like we said. His first instinct is to put his hands to his ears, right up until the bullet tearing through his foot registers and he screams. I shoot his other foot, and he screams again.

“You’re a fucking psycho!”

“Probably true.” I shoot him in the thigh. Thunder aims and puts one in his shoulder. Shadow and Outlaw put two in his arm, right next to each other. He’s spurting blood like a fucking fountain and screaming like a stuck pig.

And from there on, there’s not really any room for conversation. Just bullet after bullet tearing him apart, until he’s bleeding from so many holes that there’s no way he’s gonna last much longer. He doesn’t even scream anymore, just voiceless whimpers.

I kneel by his head, grabbing his hair so he’s forced to look at me. His eyes are glassy, barely aware. He’s pretty much gone already. “I hope it was fucking worth it,” I hiss, then I put my last bullet into his forehead.

His body slumps, broken and dead.

38

MELODY

Packing my things is a bittersweet feeling. It doesn’t make me regret my decision. I’ll never do that. I’m glad to be with my guys, but this is the house I grew up in. There’s a little wooden frame in the backyard from when we tried growing tomatoes. There are markings on the kitchen wall for my height on every birthday until the year Mom died.

It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest house, but it was ours.

“You holding up okay?” Rebel asks.

I nod. “I’m fine. I knew I would have to do this eventually, and it’s not like I was living here anyway. I never wanted to choose, but Dad made his choice when he picked the Brigade over me. I just didn’t expect his way of telling me was to evict me.”

It was a shock when, a month after everything, I got a call from my father informing me that I had to get my shit out of the house or he’d have it hauled off with everything else when he put the place on the market. Not an ‘I love you’, or even an ‘I wish things had been different’. Maybe saying I’m fine is a lie, but I have a support network now, so I’m getting there.

I’m not packing very much. The furniture doesn’t mean anything to me, but I had a lot of clothes in the house still, and things like pictures and our favorite Christmas ornaments would hurt to lose.