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Asher

I’m light on the balls of my feet as I bob and weave. My knuckles slam against the bag until they’re sore. I feel every punch through my bones. Sweat drips out of every pore, but this is the best therapy after a long shift.

“Hook, uppercut, jab!”

Eddie shouts from the side of the mat. “Focus, Detective Savage.”

His salt and pepper hair is slicked back. Everything about my partner is immaculate and in its place, from his perfectly ironed suit down to his pristine dress shoes. We couldn’t be more opposite, but it works.

I ignore him and keep punching until the burning of my lungs becomes unbearable. Once I’ve exhausted myself, I rip off my gloves and grab some water. I swish it around inside my mouth a few times before swallowing.

“Here you go.”

Eddie hands me a towel.

“Thanks, man.”

I run it over my short, dark hair and the back of my neck.

“You need to bulk up. You’re too lean.”

He slaps my arm and laughs. He’s been telling me the same shit since we became partners a year ago.

“Wise ass.”

My mouth twitches as I unwrap my hands and shove the material in my bag.

Eddie leans back against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles, and watches my every move. “You find out any more on that case you were looking into?”

“I found a few things. I’ll do some more digging tomorrow and hack into their records. Benny is not smart enough to pull this off on his own and I doubt there’s that much money in auto repairs. I know Diego’s behind this. It has his stench written all over it.”

I toss back some more water before glancing up at the clock and jump to my feet. “Shit! Is that the time? I promised Lauren I’d be home early tonight.”

“Take it from me, son. An ‘I’m sorry’ gift goes a long way with that.”

A corner of his mouth lifts.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure a gift will help put together the crib that I promised to build tonight.”

I’m scrambling to put my shit away and zip up the gym bag. If I don’t get my ass in gear, I might be spending several nights on the couch.

“Enjoy your sleep while you can. Once that baby comes, neither of you will again.”

Eddie winks and tosses back his coffee. When I say nothing, he keeps going. “My youngest is twenty-three, away at college, and we still don’t. She’s gonna be the death of me, that one.”

He shakes his head and sighs.

“Thanks for the wisdom, old man.”

I slap him on the arm and head out with my gym bag over my shoulder.

“Funny fucker. Forty-four ain’t old.”

He snickers behind me.

“Luckily, I’ve got twenty years before I find that out.”

Without looking back, I wave a hand at him and head to my car. “Later.”

The drive is short and quiet. After I pull into our driveway, I grab my gym bag and the flowers I bought on the way home. Lilies are Lauren’s favorites and always make her soften for me. Grinning like a fool, I head up our front walk.

The smile on my face dies when I find our front door busted off its hinges.

“Lauren?”

Glass shatters. “Lauren!”

I throw my bag and the flowers aside before rushing inside.

“Asher!”

Her blood-curdling screams are like shards of glass against my heart. “Help!”

I race up the stairs two at a time and find a figure on top of my wife, punching her with gloved hands. A ski mask covers his face and he’s dressed from head to toe in black.

“No!”

Red consumes me.

I don’t think.

I react.

My body slams into him, tackling him to the ground.

We roll around the floor and start throwing punches, but we manage to dodge each other.

Whoever he is, he knows how to fight.

During the struggle, I’m able to get one hand free and reach up to open a drawer from the nightstand next to the bed.

I barely get my spare gun out before he nails me in the side.

The gun falls to the floor and he uses this to his advantage.

He’s able to flip me onto my back, straddle my chest, and wrap his hands around my throat. All I can make out are his black eyes through the holes of his mask.

My fingers are able to grip onto the cotton material and pull it off, but it’s dark and I can’t make out much of his face other than a jagged scar below his left eye.

The distraction is enough for me to loosen his hold, but before I can gain the upper hand, pain explodes at the back of my head.

My vision swims as I fall to the side and struggle to focus.

A pair of black military boots is the only thing I see before they kick me in the face, while the other person in the room takes my gun off the floor and tosses it to the man with the scar.

“Enough! Finish the bitch already so we can get out of here.”

The voice is low and muffled, but I know I’ve heard it somewhere before.

“What about him? He said no witnesses.”

“Leave him. Boss has plans.”

My hands shake as I struggle to pull myself up. I push with everything I have, but it’s not enough. They buckle under the strain of my weight and I’m knocked back down. No matter how hard I try I can’t reach her.

The room swims in and out of focus behind a veil of blood, but her cries are all I can hear.

“No, please!”

Lauren screams as a single gunshot rings out. Her shallow breaths fill the room like a knife in my heart, until everything goes silent and the darkness swallows me.

I’m not sure how long I’m out when I’m shaken awake and hear a familiar voice. “Asher? Can you hear me?”

My vision is still swimming in and out of focus, but I manage a slight nod. “Eddie? Where is she? Where’s Lauren?”

Each word comes out as a slow wheeze.

Eddie’s blurry head shakes. “She didn’t make it.”

At his words, my world dies. Everything goes black. I’m numb and lifeless—a hollow shell that ceases to exist.

Nothing they say from that point on penetrates my hollow exterior. Not during my interrogation. Not during my trial. Not when they strip me of my badge. Not the pain on my brothers’ faces. Not the words ‘voluntary manslaughter’. Not even the word ‘guilty’ sinks in.

5 months later

Piss seeps out of the concrete, burning my nostrils.

The clock on the far wall ticks by as it taunts me.

Time is irrelevant here.

Every second that passes is another that they own you—own every decision you ever make.

You don’t piss or shit without their permission.

No one has come to see me, but I prefer it that way.

My brothers are waiting for me on the outside and that’s all the assurance I need.

Having them see me locked up in a cage would be an ugly reminder of everything I’ve lost, and I’m not ready to face that reality just yet.

It will happen in time but on my terms.

Everything will be on my terms.

The bars to my cell open and one by one we get in line, like ants marching off to the slaughter.

We grab trays and take whatever slop they plop on our plates, eating it without complaint or we starve.

I take my share and sit at a nearby table without a word.

In the months I’ve spent here, I’ve learned the hierarchy of things.

Keep quiet and keep your head down, but take no shit either.

The first day I proved I wasn’t to be fucked with and I’ve been left alone ever since.

I keep to myself and speak to no one except for my cellmate.

Carl has shared a cell with me for months and enjoys my silence, so we sit together as a united front.

His dark skin is covered in tattoos that tell a story of the hard life he’s lived.

Out in the real world, we would never have been friends, but here we’ve forged a bond brought on by the need for survival.

We have each other’s backs and always will.

A loud noise interrupts my thoughts and my chin lifts to find Cyrus—the one pain in my ass—at our table.

He flashes me a toothless grin but doesn’t speak.

His eyes never glance in Carl’s direction nor does he acknowledge him.

I’m not surprised.

He’s never cared for Carl because he’s a racist piece of shit.

“You two fucking fags sit here thinking you’re better than us, don’t you?”

He licks his top lip and laughs. “You want to suck cock, I’ll pull out my dick right here.”

My teeth grind together as my fists clench the sides of my tray. This bastard’s been taunting me since day one and I’ve had just about enough of his shit. The whites of my knuckles should serve as a warning, but Cyrus has never been accused of being smart.

“Ignore him, man.”

Carl speaks for the first time since Cyrus sat down.

All eyes are on us and I know they’re waiting, picking their moment to strike, like animals hunting for the weakest link and ready to pounce.

My attention focuses back on my tray and I shove a handful of what I think are mashed potatoes in my mouth. Ignoring him will piss him off more than me breaking his jaw. He’s pushing to get a rise out of me, but I don’t give him the satisfaction.

Cyrus grins like he’s won. He knows he’s getting to me and he thrives on it like the parasite he is. “You’re a pussy. I bet your wife put up more of a fight than you.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

My voice is low and hoarse from not speaking in so long, but the threat in my tone is clear.

He groans and the next words out of his mouth are my undoing. “I bet she had a hot, tight cunt, too. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck her myself.”

I leap out of my seat and hit him in the face with my tray, knocking him on his back. Down it crashes, harder and harder.

Blood coats my face as I hear his nose crunch underneath my weight. The rest of the prisoners take advantage of this distraction and attack each other. A riot breaks out, but amongst the chaos, I never lose sight of the fucker in front of me.

Months of anger and pent up rage are unleashed and there’s no holding me back anymore.

I keep slamming it down, over and over.

Images of the bastard with the scar who shot Lauren replace Cyrus, and I bring it down even harder.

The final crack of his skull snaps the last shred of humanity I was hanging onto.

There’s nothing left.

I’ve succumbed, become the monster they’ve made me—one that’s only satisfied by blood and pain.

And make no mistake, I’m coming for every last one of them.

Diego may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.

Vengeance will be mine, even if it takes my last breath.