Page 111 of Restitution

All the blood drains from my face when he shoves an iPad at me, the screen showing my sister walking with Stacey and Tylar in the mall.They’re laughing together, but my gaze is on the face I see every time I close my eyes.

It’s been two months since I left her and beat up my brother. I haven’t spoken to either of them.

How can I be so mad at her yet hang on to every memory of us like they’d keep me alive?

“Kill him, or I’ll make sure your sister and her friends don’t make it home.”

I gulp, picturing Stacey fighting for her life while my sister and Tylar lie dead beside her. Even the thought of them being harmed has me seeing red flashes behind my vision.

She obviously doesn’t know Stacey is my ex, or she’d threaten me with her instead.

“Leave my sister alone,” I grit out.

“Then kill him.” She places a gun in my hand, and the metal is so heavy, so fucking deadly, that I drop it as if it’s burned my skin.

She chuckles and looks at her husband. “It seems our pet doesn’t know how to fire a gun.”

“Such a pathetic little boy.”

I want to rip this motherfucker apart, but my mind is blanking, and I can barely stand with how much the room is spinning. I don’t know why they’re doing this. Or why me.

My attempt to escape this morning was pointless. Archie stuck another needle in me and pulled my trousers down while I clawed at the carpet until I passed out.

For the first time in a long time, I want my dad. I want Ewan and Jason to find me. Even my mum. If they knew where I was, they’d fight tooth and nail until they saved me. But with security everywhere, and how brutal they are, I doubt I’ll be rescued anytime soon.

Will they be looking for me?What if Stacey needs me?Who will walk and train my dogs?

I stand back, glancing at the terrified man with black tape over his mouth and eyes. He’s shaking in the chair, his hands bound behind him. “How?”

“You can choose,” she says, crossing her arms and popping her hip out as her shoe taps the ground. “But hurry up. We have a party tonight, and I need your wound tended to before you meet your first client.”

I frown. “First… client?”

She smiles, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “You’re going to make me a lot of money, Kade. And if you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, your family will be safe.” She shrugs. “I’ll even give you a percentage, so you’ll have some benefits.”

Archie shows me the screen again, and my heart stops when I see two guys in suits following my sister and her friends through the mall. “The next shop they go into, they won’t come back out.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Bernadette’s eyes darken, her fake smile slipping.I sigh and close my eyes, then look at the thrashing man in the chair again.

Each limping step I take towards him has bile rising in my throat, and I want to apologise, to say I don’t want to do this, but I need to keep those I love safe. When I wrap my hands around his throat, making him still in shock, I shut my eyes for a second.

I apply pressure but nowhere near enough to kill him.I’m shaking.

Archie chuckles like I’m pathetic. “Tighter.”

“Press your thumb into his carotid artery,” Bernadette says beside me. “And tighten your grip. Make sure he can’t breathe.”

I do as she says, and the man struggles for breath, doing everything he can to fight against me. But he’s tied up and useless. He can’t see me –can’t see the look in my eyes as I strangle him.

“That’s it. The blood flowing to his head is reducing,” Bernadette says, moving closer. “The brain is being starved of oxygen and nutrients.” She walks around the man, ruffling his hair as I keep my eyes on my hands. “Watch his skin change colour, Kade. Watch how you rob him of breath, of life. Take him away from his daughter, his wife and the future they should be having.”

A tear slips down my cheek, but as I loosen my hold to let him breathe, I think about Stacey and what could happen to her and my sister if I don’t do this.

I push forward hard enough to make the chair tip back, and Bernadette moves out of the way before the man crashes to the ground, likely dislocating both his shoulders. I lock my elbows and put all my weight into my hands as I climb over him and press as hard as I can against his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I say, spit falling from my mouth as I keep repeating those two words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”