JAKE
Luke dumps my stuffed satchel on the queen-sized bed. It represents everything I own in the world. He turns and waves his arms in a grand gesture. “This is it. What do you think?”
My eyes take in the room. It’s big, with an airy window and walls the colour of stone. The walnut timber furniture is finished in a rich gloss, and the white sheets are bright and crisp. The best part? When I reach over and flick on the light switch by the wall, a warm glow fills the room. “It’ll do.”
The comment earns me a punch to the arm. “Get stuffed, Romero. This place is a palace.”
In actual fact it’s a four-bedroom brick home with a granite kitchen, stainless steel appliances, and an outdoor spa that Leander has christened the ‘hot tub of love.’ I won’t be dipping my toes in it any time soon. God knows what lives beneath the dark, bubbling water, and he can keep that information to himself.
I reach for my bag and slide the zipper open, my mind going to my first tattoo. The memory will remain forever clear. The buzz of the needle had been an annoying mosquito; the sharp point jabbed repeatedly into firm muscle until I ached for it to end. The heat of the afternoon had been relentless, the sheen of sweat dampening my palms. Afterward, we’d sat in the courtyard of the local pub listening to live music and eating thick, juicy steak burgers dripping with barbeque sauce. The sense of fullness after eating for the first time in days had felt incredible.
Two, long hungry weeks later, I did what I had to do. I made the call and sold my soul to Satan. Now here I am, moving in to Luke and Leander’s house. The money Leander says I’ll earn is mind-blowing. I don’t have to rely on the hope of there being food to eat or clean clothes to wear. I have independence now, and it’s empowering.
I left no forwarding address with my foster carers. Despite the Government doing random checks on my placement, I don’t believe they’ll track me down. There are thousands of kids like me. They don’t have the manpower to search out each and every one of us. To them I’ll just be another kid lost to the system.
“Jake.”
Luke’s tone is impatient as if he’s been calling my name more than once.
I half-turn, pausing from tugging worn clothes from my bag and placing them onto the bed. “Thanks, Luke. I appreciate this.”
“Don’t thank me.” His eyes take on a dark, grim expression that ruffles my nerves. “You have tonight to get through first.”
Tonight my fall into the underworld will be complete. According to Leander, I can’t work for them until they’re sure I can be trusted. In order to do that, an initiation will take place. “Right.” I resume my task, removing the shaving kit and setting it on the bed. It’s black leather and had belonged to my father. “What did you have to do?”
“I didn’t.”
That’s cause for me to pause again. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t do for them what you’re about to do. Leander earns all the money. I just go to school.”
The thought leaves me unsteady. I sink to the edge of the bed, a shirt bunched in my hands. The thought that at least Luke and I were in this together had bolstered my courage, but I’d thought wrong. I let out a shaky breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” Luke says, standing over me.
My head shakes vigorously. “I do.”
“I can talk to Lee. We can work something else out.”
There’s no talking to Lee. The deal is done. I’d rather walk out in front of an oncoming bus than face what’s coming, but I have to do this. My father needs me now. My throat tightens at the staggering responsibility on my shoulders. The new care facility bills are huge. And there’s no one to pay them. No one but me.
I look up at Luke, my lips flat with determination. “There’s nothing to work out, Fox.” Standing, I toss my shirt on the bed and clap him on the back, forcing cheer to my voice. “Let’s go downstairs and get a drink.”
“You’re gonna need one,” he mutters beneath his breath as he jogs down the steps behind me.
“Ever fired a gun?” Leander asks as we stand in the kitchen later that night.
My gaze falls on his outstretched hand. He’s holding one out toward me, his eyes zeroed on mine. Shit. Double shit. There’s a difference between saying I’ll work for Leander and actually working for Leander. “Once before. At a shooting range.”
His expression is a smirk. “Well, now you get to do it again.”
My heart pounds as I stare at the gleaming hunk of metal in his hand. I don’t want to touch it knowing its purpose is not to protect but to threaten and potentially maim. I don’t want to do this. My gaze lifts to Leander. “What do I need a gun for?”
He shrugs. “We’re owed money and we’re gonna pay the man a visit.” He takes a step forward and shoves it at me. “Take it, Romero. It’s not gonna bite your face off.”
I think of my father. Of him sitting in a wheelchair staring out the window without a nurse to care for him. And I think of Mac. Of her soft lips and how her sassy attitude sets my soul alight. And as I do, my hand closes around the deadly weapon. The steel is cool and heavy in my palm. It feels wrong. My stomach knots and my lips set in a grim line. I don’t want to do this.
“You alright?” Leander asks.
“Sure, it won’t bite my face off,” I tell him, holding the grip tighter to hide the trembling of my hands. It won’t do for Luke’s older brother to know that I’m shit scared. “It might shoot it off though.”
Leander’s laugh is loud and hard. “You’ll be alright. Just don’t point it at your face.”
“Right,” I tell him, watching as he grabs his own, checks the chamber like a professional, and tucks it into the front of his jeans. I’m not game enough to do that. I’d probably shoot my dick off. “I’ll be sure not to do that.”
He jerks his head toward the door that connects the kitchen to the garage. “Let’s go.”
I take a moment after he leaves to draw a deep breath of courage. When I go to follow, Luke rounds the corner of the kitchen and catches hold of my bicep, bringing me to a halt. “Romero,” he hisses urgently, his tone low. “It’s not loaded.”
My brow creases as I stare at him, puzzled. “What?”
Luke yanks me closer, his mouth pressing close to my ear. “It’s just a test. The gun isn’t loaded.”
He shoves me at the door, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
We park in an abandoned driveway. It’s further down the street from the house Leander pointed out as the one we’d be visiting. There’s another vehicle parked in front of us, a plain black Mazda that looks like most other cars on the road. Average and indistinguishable.
Leander instructed me earlier on the gang I’m about to get involved with. Or join if I satisfactorily pass the initiation. They’re named the King Street Boys. And they’re not just some minor-league street gang, they’re the biggest gang in Melbourne. The structure rivals a corporation. The hierarchy is extensive and has tentacles that wrap around the entire state including government members, political staff, and police. Leander tells me their reach is so vast they’re expanding into Sydney and beyond.
Two burly guys alight from either side of the Mazda. After shutting their doors with mutual muted thunks, they walk toward us. Leander showed me photos so I recognise both. Ross is tall and bulky. His hair is short and golden brown with a slight curl, and his eyes a cold, hard blue. He’s twisting a ring that sits on the middle finger of his right hand. The action highlights the thick muscle of his forearm and a singular tattoo of three letters ‘KSB.’ He’s the gang leader.
My eyes slide to Leander with surprise. I’m expecting to be nothing less than a lowly foot soldier, so why would that attract the likes of Ross? Leander doesn’t acknowledge my fleeting glance. His face remains blank. I pick up his silent cue and remove the expression of surprise from my face.
The guy beside him is Boyd, head of security and recruitment. His black hair is buzzed so short it’s barely there at all, and eyes darker than night are busy taking me in without giving a single thought away.
They stop in front of us. Ross tips his head at me. “You’re Jonah?”
His voice is rough, like he smokes a thousand cigarettes a day, but there’s also a hint of surprise in it. I nod. The name change is for protection. Gang life gets dirty. I don’t want any of this to come back on me later, or anyone I care about.
“You’re how old now?”
I lift my chin, trying to hide the nerves. “Sixteen.”
Ross doesn’t appear displeased at my youth and continues to study me carefully. “You’re a big boy for sixteen.”
Bigger than both of them if they want to get technical. I shrug like it’s no big deal but to me it is. Having a size advantage gives me confidence I wouldn’t ordinarily feel otherwise. “I work out a lot.”
“Eh … Good for you.”
Boyd takes a slight step forward and his head tips a little to the side as he looks at me. “Why do you want in with the King Street Boys?”
Money, for fuck’s sake. Why would anyone want to join a gang unless it was lucrative? But gang members are brothers just like bikers are, aren’t they? A unit. Mess with one, you mess with all. I could have had that once, with the Valentines, and I didn’t take it. The knowledge is painful.
“Family,” I lie, knowing it’s what they probably want to hear.
Boyd nods as though he understands. “You in the system?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. The system is fucking useless.”
We’re in agreement on that. The system only gave me one thing. Mackenzie Valentine. And now I don’t have her anymore.
Ross clamps a hand on my shoulder. The gesture is firm and brotherly but his voice is hard and does not allow disagreement or invite further conversation. “We’re your family now.”
He lets go and Boyd looks between Leander and myself. “You both good to go?”
Leander answers with a lift of his shirt. It bares the gun tucked in his waistband. Mine is on the passenger-side floor of the car. That’s where I’m hoping like hell it ends up staying.
Boyd’s forehead wrinkles. “Where’s yours?”
My lips press in a grim line, and I tuck unsteady hands inside the pockets of my jeans. Shit is getting real and my legs are five seconds away from hauling me the fuck out of here.
“You leave it in the car?” Leander asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, as if it was an accident.
“I’ll get it,” he tells me and makes a move to leave. Boyd slaps the back of his forearm against Leander’s chest, stopping him from going anywhere. After a shared glance with Ross, he says, “I’ll get it.”
Boyd walks away and Ross turns his attention to me with a fold of his arms. “Jonah, you ready for this?”
Not in the least. “I don’t know what this is.”
Ross points to a red brick house further down the street. It’s nondescript—the type of house you’d never pick out from a line up two days later. “The man in that house is the worst kind of scum. A convicted paedophile. Instead of being locked up, he’s out here stealing our drugs and watching Boyd’s youngest sister from outside the school gates. We’re here to deliver him one hell of a warning.”
Disgust makes my stomach churn. Paedophiles should never be free, let alone allowed anywhere near the gates of a school. It explains why both Ross and Boyd are both here tonight instead of someone lower in the hierarchy. This is personal.
Boyd returns, gun in hand. He hands it to me, his dark brown eyes staring me down until I take it.
“What kind of warning?” I ask Ross, the weapon a heavy weight in my hand.
“The kind where we go in and rough him up, tie him to a chair, and you come in after and shoot him.”
I jerk visibly. Shoot him? I don’t think so. I don’t shoot people, regardless of their criminal past. You can’t just take justice into your own hands. My eyes shift to Leander, needing to assess his reaction.
“You can do this,” he reassures me in a firm voice as Ross and Boyd start toward the house.
But I can’t.
“It’s just a test. The gun isn’t loaded.”
Is Luke telling the truth?
If he is, then it means this whole scene is a setup. The man in the house must be a gang member and not who they say he is. And this so-called test is for me to shoot him. If the gun isn’t loaded, they’ll hear the click and that will be my passing grade—an acknowledgement that I’d been willing to do as they asked. Once over, my place in the King Street Boys will be cemented.
But fifteen minutes later, I realise there’s an issue with my thought process as I stand in front of the man. Neither Ross nor Boyd told me his name, but he’s roughed up and tied to a chair like I was told he would be. Silver duct tape covers his mouth and his eyes are bugged out like a goldfish. His breathing is out of control. He doesn’t look like a man who knows he isn’t about to get shot. He looks like a man who knows he is.
“It’s just a test.”
Ross gives the order to shoot, his voice coming to me like I’m under water. I lift the gun, the move slow and painful. My heart thumps hard enough to pound its way from my chest as I look into the man’s eyes. The fear in them is a living, breathing thing between us. Wild, like an untamed animal. I turn my head to Leander. He gives me a nod. Do it, his eyes say.
I aim for the right shoulder.
“The gun isn’t loaded.”
I take a slow, deep breath and pull back on the trigger. My finger moves at a glacial pace until a metallic click reaches my ears. For the briefest of seconds I feel aching relief. Then gunfire blasts through the small room. The bang is deafening like lightening has struck the ground at my feet.
Blood explodes outward from the man’s chest, spraying my face. The gun still rests in my outstretched arm as the force of the bullet sends him backward in the chair.
My breathing stops, shock freezing me to the floor. The man lies unmoving, a river of red leeching from beneath his body.
Luke lied.
The gun was loaded.
I’ve just ended a man’s life.
Bile climbs my throat, its onset so swift there’s no time to swallow it back down. I bend over and throw up at my feet. My stomach heaves until there’s nothing left.
I straighten, hands shaking. This is a nightmare and I want to wake up. But I know I won’t.
My head turns to Leander. Blood smears the back of my hand as I wipe the side of my mouth. His face is white. But why? He gave me the gun. He knew this would happen. Didn’t he?
Then realisation burns me in the chest like a hot poker. I’m no longer a petty criminal. These assholes have rendered me a murderer. The death of this man is their insurance that I’ll never betray who they are or what they’ve done, because I’ve done it too.
There’s no escape.
It means Mackenzie Valentine will never be mine. Not now. Not after this. I’ve taken a life and my soul is irrevocably stained. How can I ever expect her to live with me knowing I can never live with myself?
With a hand that takes everything I have to keep steady, I hold the gun out toward Leander. He stares at it, his eyes like dinner plates. “Take the damn thing,” I growl.
Leander grabs it quickly.
With hard eyes, I hide the crushing ache deep down inside and stare each man in the room down until they look away. I’m in deep now, as deep as it gets, but I’m no one’s bitch. “If anyone ever pulls this shit on me again, I’ll find you in the dead of night and slice your neck from ear to ear while you sleep.”
With that I leave, shoving passed Leander.
“Jonah—”
It’s all I need to snap. With the force of a heavyweight boxer, I turn and punch Luke’s brother in the face. He stumbles backward and no one steps in to help. With aching knuckles, I shake out the pain and glare. “Go to hell, Lee.”
As I step out into the dark of night, I feel as dead as the man I’ve just shot in cold blood.