I kick open the door to the butcher’s shop, not giving a shit that customers are inside. “Everybody get out!” I yell.

People seem confused at first, but when I rummage in my pocket, they scramble for the door. I’m not carrying a gun, but the mere idea that I might makes people run, which is exactly what I want. Chaos.

With furrowed brows, the shop owner barges past the cash register and toward me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

I don’t move one inch as he stands right in my face, towering above me. “I’m looking for Sergio.”

“Don’t know him,” the man growls, folding his arm.

“Of course, you don’t, but I know he’s here.”

He sneers, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I need to have a little chat with him,” I reply, narrowing my eyes.

“About what?” He squints too now.

I really don’t want to have more casualties than necessary, so I decide to take it down another route.

With a wicked grin on my face, I say, “Oh, you know … boy talk.”

“Boy talk?” He raises a brow.

“Yeah … he left his dildo at my place.”

His jaw drops, but nothing comes out except for a little gasp. He seems flabbergasted, so I grasp the opportunity to peer over his shoulder at the door in the back where I see a guy flash by.

“I also wanted to ask him if he could bring condoms next time,” I add, grinning as I watch him freeze.

“Uh …”

“You wanna hear more?” I ask.

“No, no, he’s right up there,” the guy says, pointing at the door I was looking at.

I place a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly steps aside. I pass him and say, “Thanks.”

He wipes his shirt precisely where I touched him, which makes me snort, but I have to keep my composure. Using the gay card is such a fun thing to do around homophobes.

I enter through the door and carefully look around before closing it behind me, twisting the lock to keep everyone out. I don’t want anyone to interrupt.

I knock on the door to see if he hears me, but he doesn’t. Instead, the guy actually leaves his store and walks away, just like that. Crazy, but it’s true. Guess he doesn’t wanna get involved in the dirty game he knows is about to go down. Although it’s gonna be a different kind of dirty than he probably thought.

I shrug. Not my monkeys, not my circus.

I look around and take in my surroundings. From the look of this room, I’m almost certain it’s soundproof. Probably because my business isn’t the only dirty business going down here.

It’s cool in here too, which isn’t surprising, considering meat is hanging from the hooks and lying on the racks. Shivering, I wait until I hear a sound coming from the back. In a small office up ahead, a man’s standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand. Rummaging in my pocket, I take out the knife and hold it tightly as I approach. He turns to look at the television hanging from the wall, and it makes me stop in my tracks.

Why?

Because I recognize his face.

He’s the same man I saw six years ago … the day they took my wife.

He hauled her away from my house.

I could crush the knife in my hand right now.

Instead, I tiptoe toward him, trying not to make a sound as I approach him from behind. The closer I get, the more rage spills into my body and makes this freezer feel like a goddamn volcano. But I’m keeping it together … until I’m right behind him and put my knife against his throat.

“Don’t. Move,” I hiss in his ear.

The man is utterly quiet, his lips almost sewn together as he trembles in place.

“Put the cup down,” I say.

He does what I ask, placing it on a table just inches away.

“Please don’t,” he pleads.

“Give me one good reason …” I hiss.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says.

“I don’t want you to do anything.” My blood feels like it’s boiling right now.

“You want money?” he asks.

“Shut up,” I say, pushing the blade further into his skin until I can feel drops of warm blood spill over my hand. “You know why I’m here.”

“No, I don’t,” he says.

“Listen to my voice … recognize it?” I murmur into his ear. “You’ve heard it before … roaring out loud the moment you took her … six years ago.”

Out of nowhere, he reaches for the knife and smashes my hand away from his throat, causing it to drop to the floor. He immediately turns and smacks me in the face, making me tumble backward.

“You should’ve stayed a fucking drunk,” Sergio growls, coming closer.

I adjust my jaw and wipe the blood from my lips then I retaliate with a fist to his stomach. However, he takes it like a pro, even laughing as my hand is still against his belly. “Think that’ll hurt me? I’ve felt much, much worse.”

Grunting, I swiftly elbow him in the chin, making him stumble backward.

“You took my fucking wife!” I scream, and I punch him in the nose. “You killed her!”

He laughs again as he takes a repeated beating to the face. “You think that’s all we did to her?”

“Shut up!” I scream.

We’re fighting like crazy dogs in a freezer filled with meat, and I’m a hundred percent sure one of us will end up on those racks.

Why?

Because I’m not walking away from here until he’s dead.

He punches me in the gut so hard I stumble backward.

“You should’ve heard her. ‘Frank, Frank, please help me.’” He imitates my wife’s voice in such a degrading way that I lose my shit.

I ram into him with my head and shove him all the way into the back of his office, slamming both of us into the wall. He coughs as he tumbles to the floor with me on top of him. My hands twist around his neck, and I squeeze as hard as I can.

“You took my family away from me!” I spit in his face.

When he’s almost blue, I release him and slap him hard. “Tell me where he is!”

“Who? Your son?” He laughs again, so I grab the knife lying on the floor and jam it into his cheek, piercing his mouth.

He screams as blood pours onto his tongue, and I pull out the knife and hold it to his throat again. “Tell me where Julio is,” I say. “I know he moved, so don’t give me that bullshit old address.”

He spits out the blood and smiles like an idiot. “Why did you come here, preacher?”

I pull the picture out of my pocket and show it to him. “One of your minions dropped this in my church. It wasn’t an accident.”

Sergio chuckles like a lunatic. “You should’ve stayed away from her, Jesus Boy!”

“Stayed away from Laura? No, that’s not why you and your pussy gang threatened me.” I shake my head. “This picture has nothing to do with it, and you still wanted me to see it. Why?”

“Yeah … to fuck with your head!” He spits blood in my face.

So I cut his arm and make him bleed as retribution.

“Motherfucker!” he squeals.

He tries to fight me off, but I push him down by sitting on top of him. “This is your last chance, asshole. Tell me exactly where Julio is or I’ll cut you again and again and again until you bleed to death.”

At first, his eyes glance toward a few papers on his desk, which makes me think he’s got the address hidden here somewhere.

But then he turns his head back to me and shows me his bloody teeth. “Fuck you!”

I shrug and sigh. “Suit yourself.”

I cut into his arms, his chest, and his legs, and then punch him in the gut so hard he gulps for air. More blood pours out from his skin, and he groans in pain. I let him loose and get up, and he vomits over the floor. Guess my punch was nauseating enough.

“Disgusting,” I murmur as I focus on the papers and search for the address.

I throw aside everything that doesn’t matter until I find what I’m looking for … Julio’s new home.

“He’ll kill you, you know,” he mutters, still coughing up blood.

I cock my head at his comment. “Not if I kill him first.”

His frown makes me smile.

But then more shit pours from his mouth. “Your kid cried so much … I wanted to strangle him in the car.”

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll cut out your tongue too,” I snarl, pointing the knife at him.

He laughs. “You think I’m scared of you? I live under Julio’s rule; there is nothing you can do to me that’ll make me fear you more than I do him.”

“Maybe you should’ve chosen a different path then,” I say. “Just like I did when you took my family away from me.”

“God won’t save us,” he spits. “You think He cares about any of us?”

“He cares enough to give me my spirit to fight you and your pussy gang,” I reply.

“Ha … he should’ve given you the spirit to run faster when your lady and your kid were being dragged away.”

“What did you say?” My eye begins to twitch, and my grip on the knife grows stronger again.

“You heard me.” He coughs. “You could’ve saved them if only you were faster. But you didn’t. And now they’re dead because of you.”

I rush to him and grab him by the collar while pointing the knife at him. “Say that again; I dare you.”

He smiles as he slyly whispers, “Did you know we made your boy listen to her scream as we took her, one by one?”

That’s it.

I roar as I shove the knife into his hand.

He squeals out loud, the sound only interrupted by choking noises as I drag him along his collar back into the freezer. While he squirms on the floor, I lift him up and push him … straight into a hook hanging from the wall.

More blood comes from his mouth, and he yowls in pain as I pull the chains so his body rises from the ground. Then I take my knife from his hand and jam it into his chest, sliding it down toward his belly, so he bleeds out completely.

It won’t kill him right away, though.

No, his death will be slow and agonizing; he’ll slowly bleed out in a cold frozen void between the pigs where no one will ever hear him scream.