Page 23 of Tortured Eyes

I glance at both meagre teams discarded about around us, bodies crumpled and lifeless, and stand. She’s a good aim, I’ll give her that. All headshots. All fucking dead. My eyes lift to the drugs and weapons, and I grab my phone to call in reinforcements. This shit needs moving, and Emilio needs to pay as much as the bitch over there. He’ll survive that shot, though, be able to move the second I leave. I move in closer to him and ram my foot down onto his ankle joint, crippling the fucker and enjoying the sound of cracking bone. He’s not going anywhere but where I want him to be.

A call later, and I lift her and throw her over my shoulder, less care for her as I wander the stairs and let her hit things on the way. What does it matter? This woman’s never felt pain like she’s going to over the next however long I choose. She’ll wake up and suddenly realise what hell is, what pissing me off is. No one kills a Cane. No one threatens them, uses them, or tries for retaliation without getting vengeance thrown in their face. And my vengeance runs deep. It’ll run deep until the matter’s settled and the debt is paid.

I open the trunk and throw her into it, grabbing keys out of her pocket and slamming the thing down. Looks like my Ducati key. I scan the area, unable to see it. Fuck it, the boys can go hunting.

Nate Cane—dead. That hurts more than Vico dying. It grinds something out of me, buckles my insides with a grief I could never have imagined possible, the two deaths merging to become one fuckload of hatred.

My legs give way under the thought,my ass crashing to the ground, and I stare out into this broken-down part of town. There are a few shadows of people down the side streets, but no one’s here really. I'm alone again. There are just broken avenues and broken people who wouldn’t give a damn if they did see me just dump two bodies in my car or not. And if they knew it was a Cane and a cop in there, they’d probably laugh. Set the fucking car on fire and watch it burn.

I scowl at it all. Scowl at no one like I'll kill if anyone dares come within feet of his lifeless body, and then look at my bloodstained hands. Nate Cane was everything my father wasn’t. He was a good man. An honest one. One who held me, who calmed me. Who damn well believed in me. Even when it was misguided.

Jesus Christ, I miss him already.

A truck eventually comes rumbling through the buildings towards me, two of my guys stepping out of it as soon as it pulls to a stop. They look at me, checking out the blood, no doubt.

"You alright, boss?" one asks, concern in his eyes.

I frown up at him and point into the building, showing them where the goods and Emilio are, and then push myself to my feet.

"Get that shit moved and then get the two vehicles out of here," I say,tossing the keys at one of them. "There’s a bike somewhere, could be a Ducati, and a black Mercedes. I'll send the details of where to take them later."

No more conversation. No more thought other than vengeance. First, somewhere to deal with her. And then to the place I grew up.

To deal with Nate.