Series: The Moretti Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
A moment later, the bathroom door swings open. The guy steps out into the hall, still zipping up his pants. I’m on him before he can react.
With my hands around his throat, I press him up against the wall. He wheezes for air, his hands desperately trying to get me away. He makes a feeble attempt to hit me in the chest, but he’s already so weak it barely hurts.
His eyes start to bulge in his skull, small veins burst, turning the white in his eyes blood red. His lips turn a sickening blue, and I watch as the life drains from his body before I slowly lower him to the floor.
“One down, four to go,” I whisper when I turn around.
Julian nods, and we make our way down the stairs.
The basement smells of smoke, sweat, and booze. The laughing gets louder with each step we descend. The men are so drunk and distracted, they don’t even see us coming.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Julian greets cheerfully, announcing us to the four men sitting around the round poker table.
The laughing stops immediately. The men scramble off their chairs, reaching for weapons, but their moves are sluggish from the alcohol they’ve ingested, and they don’t stand a chance against us.
Julian fires two shots, hitting the two men to the right, right between their eyes. I kill the one on the left just as his fingers ghost against his gun.
After the echoes of the gunfire cease, the room descends into silence. All I can do is stare at Timothy, the father of the girl I used to love.
Even the recent picture I have of him didn’t show how terrible he looks. His leathery, pale skin is covering his thin face, which is set in a permanent frown. Deep wrinkles are etched into his forehead and around his mouth, making him appear older than he is. The dark circles under his eyes make his already dark brown eyes seem black.
He looks to be twenty years older than he actually is. For a split second, I feel sorry for him, knowing what he lost, knowing that he lost everything he ever loved. That feeling quickly vanishes when I’m reminded of all he did to Fallon.
“This is all your fault,” he sneers at me. “You’re the reason she is dead. She was a good girl. Had her whole life ahead of her, and you destroyed that. Ripped it all away.”
“Kind of like you ripped Fallon’s life away from her? Like you destroyed Amelie’s?”
“Amelie was collateral damage, and Fallon deserved it. It’s her fault my wife killed herself. She was nothing but a mistake. If I had it my way, Fallon never would’ve been born.”
Anger surges inside of me, making my muscles quake. “I can’t wait to kill you, old man. It’ll be the highlight of my life to see you perish. But first, let’s make one thing very clear. You started this. You are the catalyst that set everything into motion.”
With my gun pointed at his head, I take a step toward him. “I always thought you were a good guy, single dad, hardworking, no trouble with the law. It took me a while to see you for who you really are. The kind of man you are hiding inside. Tell me, why did your wife cheat on you? Because you were such an outstanding husband? Why did you have to threaten her with taking Victoria away? Because she loved you so much?”
“You know nothing!” he spits, gritting his yellowing teeth.
He doesn’t like that I’m giving it all back to him. That I’m not backing down like all the others in his life have.
“I know Victoria wanted to move in with me. I know she didn’t want to go home most nights. I was too young and dumb back then to see why. You were never the good guy you pretend to be, were you?”
“Funny coming out of your mouth. Like you’re such an outstanding citizen?”
“I’ve never pretended to be good. I’m a killer, a criminal, I’m selfish and arrogant. I’ve never pretended to be anything else. I don’t hide it either, never have, never will. And I’m not going to pretend that I feel any remorse or that I won’t take great pleasure in killing you… killing you very slowly.”
All the blood drains from Timothy’s already pale face, making him look… well, dead. His legs give out on him, and he sits back down on his chair. I can see his hands shaking from here, fear overtaking his body. He knows his clock is up. The only way he’s leaving this building is in a body bag.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julian take a step closer. Without glancing over my shoulder to see his face, I know he is excited and ready to start.