Page 19

EIGHTEEN

HUNTING

brEATHE—KANSH

ASH

T he buzzing of the tattoo gun pierces my ears, cutting right through the fucked-up thoughts bombarding my already deranged mind. As I sit here in the chair at the shop, Dom carving into my skin with a handful of needles, I can’t stop thinking about what we did to Calista in the alley.

Did she know it was us? It was obvious, right?

I shake my head, trying to think of something else, but it’s fucking impossible. But when Dom’s phone rings, forcing him to stop in the middle of my tattoo, I pull my focus off the shit in my head and onto him, finally. The look on his face tells me that something is wrong—he only gets that look when his father calls.

He nods every so often, muttering a single syllable word and nothing more. The lack of color painting his face tells me that I should be worried about what’s being said on the other end. My palms sweat. My heart pounds. My wild pulse thumps in my ears. I hold my breath until he hangs up the phone, exhaling slowly, a dizzy spell smacking me across the face.

“What was that all about?” I nervously ask, wiping my hands on my pants.

“They’re on their way over,” he states grimly. “There’s been another murder, and they think Calista did it.”

My blood turns to molasses at the mention of another murder, and for some reason, guilt begins to claw at my insides. Did she really do it? Or is it just a coincidence? I ask, thinking back to what we did to her in the alley.

As Dom finishes my tattoo, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that has settled in the pit of my stomach. The buzzing of his tattoo gun no longer provides the relief it was, now that we’re awaiting the arrival of our fathers—nothing can make this feeling go away.

I glance up at Dom, his expression mirroring my own fear and uncertainty. We sit in silence, both terribly lost in our own fucked-up thoughts, wondering if we’re going to be next on Calista’s list. Before we can dwell on the inevitable any longer, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance fills the air, sending chills down my spine.

“Who was it this time?” I ask Dom, finally breaking the unbearable silence.

As he pulls out a baggie of coke and a few blue pain pills, I get up and lock the door to the shop, knowing we can’t have any distractions.

“Bailey, the fucking police chief in Brockton.” He does a quick bump and passes me the baggie and rolled-up bill, popping a few more pills like they’re fucking candy.

“It’s got to be her. He was one of the fuckers who went to every party of hers that her mother threw, just like that fucking councilman or whatever he was.” I shake my head in disbelief, slightly fearing for my life but too afraid to fucking admit it.

If she’s working through a list of all the men who hurt her, there’s no fucking doubt our names are somewhere on it too… which means we’re not as safe as we all thought we were. Calista may be a little thing, but she’s fucking scorned, and scorned women do some crazy, fucked-up shit.

“Do you think she’ll kill us too?” Dom asks, lowering his voice and cautiously looking out the shop’s tinted windows.

“Why wouldn’t she? We’re no fucking better than they ae. If anything, we’re worse, Dom. She trusted us. She loved us at one point, and all we did was fuck her over and hurt her in the worst possible way.” I do a thick bump, feeling my nostril go numb instantly. Sniffing in, the bitter mixed powder shoots down the back of my nose, dripping down my throat and numbing it too. “We’re fucked.”

A loud bang has us both jumping, shaking in our shoes. Killian appears at the front door, clutching his helmet down by his side, anxiously knocking to be let in. Forcing his feet to move, Dom strides slowly toward the door to unlock it, doing a quick scan outside as Kill rushes in.

“What the fuck is going on?’ he asks, panting. “I got a call from my father telling me to get my ass home.”

“There’s been another murder, and they want to talk to us about it. We’re going to get our asses handed to us for not finding Cali like they wanted us to.” I shrug, speaking in a whisper, as if it hurts to talk, feeling like I’m being pulled in so many directions.

And even though our relationship with Calista has deteriorated over time, I feel an obligation to her like none other. Regardless of the threats that we face from our fathers, we have to fucking save her and make sure they—or anyone—can’t get to her. But how the fuck are we supposed to do that? How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found?

“Killian grabs me by the shoulders, his eyes wide with panic. “We need to find her now. We can’t let them get to her,” he says urgently.

Dom nods in agreement, his usually cocky demeanor replaced by a sense of desperation. “I know where she might be,” he says, shocking us both as he grabs his jacket from off the back of the chair. “But first, we have to make it home before our fathers get there.”

We slip out the back door of the shop, trying to remain unseen as we make our way through the dimly lit streets. The weight of guilt and fear hangs heavy in the air, but we push forward, determined to make things right.

Deep down, I know that the consequences of our actions may have already sealed her fate, and we have no one to fucking blame but ourselves.

* * *

By the time our fathers show up, we’re buzzed and high out of our fucking minds. But it’s always like this when they stop by. We have to numb ourselves to protect us from their wrath and the damage they continue to inflict on us daily.

The three of us sit side by side on the couch, shoulders touching, our eyes cast downward, locked on the specs of dirt covering the hardwood floor—anything to avoid looking at them and their predatory gazes that pierce like knives into our already bleeding souls.

“How fucking hard is it to find one little girl?” Killian’s father snaps, pacing a hole in the living room floor while walking through a thick cloud of cigar smoke.

“She’s killed two people that we know of, and whether you want to believe it or not, she’s fucking coming for your asses as well as ours.” My father glares at me, slowly sweeping his gaze to both Dom and Kill, making me tremble in my seat while fear weaves its way through my body.

I’ll never get over this—the way he makes me feel. Even as an adult, he fucking terrifies me to my core, and I have no idea how to not be afraid of him.

“We don’t even know if it’s her killing them,” Dom says, finally speaking up, his words thickly slurred and dripping with obvious sarcasm.

“Are you fucking stupid?” My father gasps, nearly choking on the smoke invading his lungs. “Jackson, is your son really that fucking clueless, or are the drugs finally killing what little brain cells he has left?”

Before anyone can say anything or react, Dom’s father is snatching him up off the couch, his arm around his neck in a tight chokehold. Kill and I try to get up to help him, but we’re shoved back onto the couch and held there at gunpoint, the cold steel of the muzzle pressing firmly into the middle of my cheek.

“In case you boys were wondering,” Jackson bites, tightening his grip around his son’s throat. “We’re not here to fuck around. This shit is serious, and you all need to start fucking acting like it.”

My father looks me dead in the eye, a cold, threatening look taking over. “Fucking find her, Ash. Don’t make us send someone after the three of you, because if that happens, when we find Calista—and we will—you’ll fucking watch everything we do.” He grins, turning my blood cold. “...and you’re not going to like any fucking part of it.”

My heart races as I nod, mumbling something about understanding, my palms sweating against the fabric of my jeans. The weight of their words presses down on me like an unbearable burden, and I know that we have no choice but to make a move and find Calista before it’s too late. But no one said anything about turning her over to them...

As I watch our fathers leave the house, the air is thick with tension and fear, but instead of cowering in defeat, a quiet realization begins to blossom inside of me. Turning to Kill and Dom, in a low, determined voice, I whisper, “We need to go find her before they do.”

Kill nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We need to make sure she’s safe,” he adds quietly.

And then Dom interjects, his voice shaking with raw emotion, “We can’t let them fucking control us. We’ve already fucked up enough.”

Finally gathering our composure, we manage to bring the cocaine out—our usual routine—followed by the pills, and a bottle of liquor is placed on the dirty table in front of us, all working on preparing our next fix in order to remain as numb as possible.

“Dom, you mentioned you might know where she is?” Kill asks, coughing through each word as a cloud of smoke hazes the air around us.

“Yeah, I don’t know for sure, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” he says, nodding as he pokes himself with a loaded needle, pushing the dark brown liquid into his already heavily scarred vein. “But if we’re going to go see, then we need to head out now.”

We all exchange a meaningful look—a silent understanding passing between us as we prepare ourselves for whatever may come. No matter the danger, we know that finding Calista is a top priority.

We walk in silence, the autumn wind blowing the smell of impending snow around as if it’s about to fall any moment. No one but late-night dealers and junkies litters the streets; even the homeless are sleeping, scattered all around. The walk is short, and when we stop in front of a familiar building, Kill and I give Dom a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“I swear I saw her here. Well, not here, but with Five, and I bet his ass knows exactly where the fuck she is.” He takes the last drag off his cigarette, tosses it on the ground, and snuffs it out with the heel of his Jordans, waiting for us to comment.

“That’s funny because I could’ve sworn I saw her with him too, but he told me her name was Addy or some shit,” I add, trying hard to rip my eyes away from the window from which the light is coming from, my hands itching in anticipation.

“Then lets go find out,” Dom states, leading the way and clearly not giving a fuck that it’s almost three in the fucking morning.

The adrenaline is pulsing through my veins as we approach the second floor, a mix of curiosity and fear bubbling beneath the surface. We scale the stairs, our footsteps echoing in the quiet night until we reach the door.

Without hesitation, Dom bangs on it, the sound reverberating through the empty streets. After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open to reveal disheveled Five, his eyes bleary and confused.

“Where is she?” Dom demands, not bothering with any pleasantries as he pushes past Five and into his apartment, his fierce determination leading the way.

Five stutters in response, but we don’t have time to waste on his excuses. Our only priority is finding Calista and getting her to safety.

As we make our way through his apartment, a sense of urgency grows with each step. Finally, we reach a door at the end of the hall, hearing muffled voices from inside. With a shared nod and silent agreement, we burst through it, ready to face whatever awaits us on the other side.