I’m growing antsy, and I rock from foot to foot. Joshua glances at me and lights a second cigarette. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I stomp out the butt of my smoke and lean against the wall, willing myself to be patient. This is just like the rabbit in the woods. It has to be smooth. Breathe. Focus.
Finally, the two strangers across the alley make their way to the street. I can finally breathe again. Now, Joshua and I are alone. No more witnesses. He gestures at me, offering another cigarette, but I wave it off.
“One is good,” I say.
“Suit yourself. You know, my wife says these things are gonna get me killed one day,” he chuckles.
If only he knew.
He turns away to light up another and that’s my opening. I place the rag in my pocket over his mouth and nose. His sudden gulp of air is stifled by the damp cloth covering his face. He tries to jerk away. I grab him and pull him closer, holding him still as I watch his hands flutter. The man has more fight in him than I predicted. Won’t matter, though. The drugs on the cloth take everyone, sooner or later. In a few moments, his body slides limply to the ground.
Transporting bodies is always easier in the movies. In real life, it’s a pain in the fucking ass. I crack my neck, then bend down and hoist Joshua up over my shoulder. With a quick glance behind me to make sure no one can see us, I stagger back to my car parked at the end of the alley. He lands in my trunk with a loud thud. Inside, I fasten his arms behind his back and his legs together, then slap a piece of duct tape over his mouth.
My car starts up silently. I pull out of the alley. I know these streets like the back of my hand, so maneuvering through all the back roads and shortcuts comes as naturally as hunting for me. I consider twisting the knob of the radio but decide against it. It might wake Joshua up, and the only thing more annoying than those two strangers making out would be listening to the man in my trunk squirm and try to escape.
I steer away from downtown, towards the warehouse district. My mind starts to drift back in time again.
The anger born that night in the hospital never left me. In the years since, I’ve drunk gallons of booze and spilled ten times that amount in blood. But it’s like a stain on my soul. Hasn’t made a goddamn bit of difference.
I thought killing the men responsible would start the healing process. I was so, so wrong.
Because the things I learned while I planned changed my life forever. The anger inside me grew like an ulcer, like a cancer. Until it took me over.
Aleksandr and Andrei were part of some low-level bratva, a brotherhood of Russian criminals for hire. Petty bullies, drug dealers, the kind of parasites who prey on good people. Just like they did to me.
Money was the reason. Fifty thousand dollars was all my mother, father, and brothers were worth to them. Even now, the thought makes my blood boil. It takes everything I have not to lose my temper all over again.
They could’ve chosen poison. A shot to the head. Something quick and painless. But that’s not what they did. They were methodical, starting with my father. A shot to both knees left him defenseless. They dragged my mother to the bedroom and made her watch as they killed her boys. Aleksandr was the one who killed them. He laughed as my mother cried.
They showed my family no mercy.
So I gave them none in return.
My plan was simple. I posed as a potential client looking to hire them for a hit, but because of my high profile, I said I couldn’t let them see my face. Rather than communicating through the internet, I donned a ski mask for all of our meetings. I wanted to look them in the eyes as I led them into my trap. It was the ultimate test of control, sitting in front of them and not losing my shit. Every bone in my body, every fiber of my being, was alive with rage. Images of them bloodied and torn to shreds raced through my mind, and more than once, I almost lost it. When I spotted my father’s ring on Andrei’s finger, I nearly cut it off from the first knuckle. Instead, I clenched my jaw and gave them the details.
They were to break into the home of a specific address. It would be an easy job. In and out. They seemed gleeful, eager to do whatever it was I needed. I gave them the money up-front, a measly $10,000, and watched as they celebrated.
After that, it was easy. All I had to do was show up at the house before they arrived and rig everything up. The moment they stepped into the bedroom, it began to fill with gas, and unable to breathe, the two of them collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Aleksandr was the first to break. After the fifth tooth I tore from his gums, he finally confessed what they had done. Andrei, to his credit, wasn’t as big of a coward as his twin. He took every ounce of pain with something I might consider dignity. He cried and howled, but he didn’t cave.
Not until I
