“He’s all yours,” Nitro said once we had Gibson in the old warehouse we used for these kinds of things.

Gibson had regained consciousness. He stared up at me from the cold cement floor where we’d dumped him. He didn’t speak, though. I doubted he could, even if he tried. I’d beaten him so badly that his face was unrecognisable, swollen to the point where his eyes and mouth could hardly open.

“How you wanna do this?” Nitro asked.

I jerked my chin. “String him up.” I needed to work the anger out of my system with my fists.

Nitro nodded and helped me hoist Gibson up. There was therapy in the rope work involved in this endeavour. I derived great satisfaction from it, and when we stood back to survey him hanging there, ready for me, my skin hummed with anticipation.

King came through the doorway at the end of the warehouse and walked our way. It was just the three of us there. King had called again after we’d left my place, to say he’d meet us if he could escape the feds.

“You ducked Ryland?” Nitro asked.

King nodded, his eyes focused on me. “Yeah.”

“What?” I asked him. It seemed like he had something to say.

Regret flashed across his face. That didn’t happen often with King. “I was calling you earlier to pass on some information from Bronze.”

My gut tightened. “Sully?”

“Yeah.” He paused for a beat. “Sorry, brother, but they found him riddled with bullets.”

“Fuck!” I roared, turning my face to Gibson who hung by his two arms, his head down. “You did this, didn’t you?”

He tried to lift his head, only managing to raise it a fraction. But his nod couldn’t be missed.

I took the few strides needed to get to him. Squeezing my fingers around his face, I dug them in until he responded with a cry of pain. “You’ll regret that.”

He spat at me and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. It provoked the beast inside me that I’d somehow kept leashed through all of this. If he thought he’d seen the worst from me already, he had no idea what was coming for him.

I gave his face one last hard squeeze and then punched him in the gut. The world drifted away after that while I took out every ounce of rage, resentment, hatred, and pain on him.

I finally embraced every dark thought I’d ever had. And every unhinged desire for revenge that had stirred deep in my soul. I’d lived with these parts of myself for far too long. They’d wound themselves around my heart, trying to choke any last pieces of good left inside. They’d flowed through my veins, trying to poison me. I’d battled them daily. I’d fought the fuck against this side of me, but not anymore. This shit ended with Gibson. I’d beat him black and fucking blue until I released this toxic shit from my body.

Every blow I delivered took me one step closer to the retribution I craved.

I fucking hungered for it.

Dreamt of it.

Needed it like the air I breathed.

“Fuck!” It roared out of me as I punched him one last time before falling to my knees. My heart pounded as I drew deep breaths.

I rested my hands on my thighs, my back hunching over as the violent high consumed me. I wasn’t done with him yet. Not by a long fucking shot.

“He’s got a bit more life in him,” King said, moving to stand next to me.

I looked up at Gibson. “Yeah.” His breaths were shallow, but they were still there. Standing, I pulled my knife from its sheath as I met King’s gaze. “He won’t soon.”

King’s own bloodthirsty desires flared in his eyes. He kept them locked tight, though. If I hadn’t finished Gibson off in a way that drew blood, he would have. But he knew I needed to do this, because it was what he would have needed, too.

Turning back to Gibson, I ran my eyes over his body, taking in every bruise and wound I’d inflicted. I tasted my revenge before I took it. It felt fucking good. However, it would never be enough, and I knew that. But it would be a start.

I stepped close to him and pressed the tip of the blade to his chest. “You won’t ever hurt my family again, motherfucker,” I said through clenched teeth. “Charlie will be safe from you. And I don’t give a flying fuck what you say—she’s my daughter.” I pulled my arm back and then stabbed the knife into his chest with all the force I had in me. “Mine!”

I stabbed him repeatedly.

I couldn’t stop myself.

Blood oozed from him.

It covered him, soaked through his clothes and dripped to the cement floor creating a grisly red pool that only excited my thirst for his death.

I wanted every drop of his blood down there.

I didn’t want to stop carving him up until he ran dry.

The blade sliced through every body part as I stabbed him to death.

The sound of flesh ripping apart was the soundtrack I moved to.

The sight of that gaping flesh and his blood, my reward.

It wasn’t until Nitro stepped in and pulled me away that the vicious frenzy ended.

I stared blankly at him as he took the knife from my hand.

I was numb.

Dead inside.

I’d taken his life.

Delivered my revenge.

But betrayal had carved a wound that cut deep that day. And that wasn’t something Gibson’s death could ever soothe.