Page 23 of Hearts Etched in Glass (The Afton Adders #2)
Sabotage, Beastie Boys
The amount of pricks that have showed up to this establishment is irritating. Ronald has five friends with him, and Mr. McKinley has two hunting partners. Then there is Bobby, myself, Lyle and Gregory. I cannot wait for this bloody thing to be over and we can throw their bodies onto a bonfire.
The McKinleys had led us here under false pretenses, that this would be a hunt to make amends for misleading our business dealings.
My investigator finally came back with more annoying information regarding the McKinleys’ personal lives and business dealings.
Apparently, they try to fuck over all their partners, like the narcissistic twats they are, gas-lighting them and manipulating.
Utilizing these tactics to then take over that said business, increasing their fortunes and marring everything in their way.
After Tilly, Ronald killed his girlfriend, but they hid her death as a drug overdose.
Though the parents were not convinced and tried to sue the McKinley family for wrongful death and lost financially in court.
These people are disgusting and do not deserve to breath air.
The mansion behind us was built on the several businesses this man and his family have fucked over.
His wife, she is just as bad, aiding and enabling her children.
Each of her sons has killed a girlfriend.
Her husband is a serial abuser within the kink industry. After seeing what he did to Marcus, I could shove dynamite up his ass and watch him explode.
How dare he give our society a bad name .
There are several pompous friends of Ronald’s here, wearing obnoxious hunting gear—heavy mackinaw wool, suede and leather sports coats—while my brothers and I wear green or camouflage.
I hear them snicker under their breaths, but they won’t be snickering when their bodies are hung from the trees.
They will be great outdoor decor for their ridiculous mansion.
Baba’s scout reviewed the layout of the landscape earlier today, before we were to do this night hunt. We have men set up on the perimeter, Baba is patiently waiting with my brother Jacob, our pub keep, Llyod, Tilly and Marcus.
When the evening comes, then we shall destroy this land.
It is dinner time and the sun is setting. We are settled around a fire cooking bacon and eating sausages, huddled on cut logs, surrounding the flames. I have a bad feeling that because Baba and our individual scouts have been out and about, we may have scared the animals away.
No one has caught anything, and now Ronald is insisting we need to hunt at night to find better vantage points and increase our luck, or some shite. I just want to shoot him now and get it over with, but I understand Tilly and Marcus need closure and Baba wants to fuck with them.
Before Ronald continues explaining the routes around the property, I hand him the tin can of special cupcakes Baba made.
“Here, our dear grandmother made these for all of us. Sorry, I had some on the way here, but it will be nice to have something sweet to go with all the salt we have ingested.” I give a small smile and nod, as he takes the circle tin, passing it around.
Him and his friends, alongside his father, begin eating.
I peer down to find the lace of my boot untied, so I reach to fix it before we go running about the woods.
When I peer up and pale at the sight.
Bobby just took a fucking bite of the goddamned cupcake.
I lurch forward from the log, storming to Bobby and smacking the cupcake from his hand. “Aren’t you a fucking diabetic?” I state through gritted teeth, my eyes widening.
“No, I’m—” He stops, assessing my face. “Oh. Oh! Yes, sorry I forgot. Just one bite.” He quickly picks up the cupcake and passes it over to Lyle, sitting beside him. He scowls at Bobby, snatching the cupcake and tossing it in the fire.
“Idiot,” Lyle mumbles under his breath, then peers up at me and shakes his head.
“How do you forget that you are a diabetic?” Ronald laughs with a full mouth; some morsels stuck to his lips.
My stomach turns. Thank goodness she masked the scent, because you wouldn’t even know they were full of horse feces and drugs, if it wasn’t for the sugar and tasty elements she shoved into those disgusting things.
“Now if I was a soldier, I bet I would have a high body count,” Mr. McKinley says, with no prompt or offer of conversation to begin.
“What?” Lyle asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“I have trained with many hunting rifles and shotguns. If you would have agreed, I would have loved to show you my hunting room. It is exquisite, so many boars. A lion’s head, an elephant and more.
You’ ll just have to see,” he explains, patting his friend’s shoulder beside him.
I notice he sways a little in his movement.
“Interesting,” Lyle says sitting stoically on his log, staring the men down like the gaggle of knobheads they are.
“Were you in the war, Lyle?” One of Mr. McKinley’s friends asks, as Lyle just nods his head politely.
“I was going to participate in The Great War, but I was too busy. So many companies to run you know? The government would fall if they didn’t have my supplies.” I glare up at Mr. McKinley, his comment stoking the ever-rising anger inside me.
“You were going to participate?” I ask, venom dripping from my lips.
“Like it was a choice?” Furrowing my brow, I stare him down, throwing some random sticks in the fire, then try my best to maintain my composure.
“My brother was a prisoner of war. The krauts wrapped him in barbed wire and lit his flesh on fire. He came back scarred not only physically.” Taking my two fingers, I harshly tap my chest. “But scarred in his spirit as well.”
There is an awkward silence that creeps over the area, as no one dares to speak.
I see Bobby’s hands start to twitch as I realize the drugs maybe kicking in soon.
Looking around the camp I find Ronald’s face turned up, trying to hold in a laugh.
Clearly the drugs are setting in, or he is just going to make an ass of himself, like he usually does.
So I guess the next several minutes will tell which pathway we are on.
Ronald begins laughing, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Sorry! But that was just so depressing and serious!” Then he snorts. Mr. McKinley throws a stick in Ronald's direction.
“Forgive my son, he hasn’t studied war like I have,” Mr. McKinley explains.
“I’m going to begin hunting,” I state, grabbing my shotgun and motioning to Lyle. I hear one of the men yell for me, but I ignore them and just wave, going to alert Baba that they ate the cupcakes and to get ready for the debauchery to begin.
I shout behind me, knowing they probably will not understand the phrase, but if Mr. McKinley studied correctly, then he will heed my warning, “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”