Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He applies a tourniquet, which never would have occurred to me, and then steps back to let me get after it. Albie’s taunting me with his eyes, still not convinced I can do it. I think of Brady, recalling how his face was so mangled I couldn’t even hold a viewing for him before the service.
From the time he was just a wee lad, it fell upon me to look after him. I fed him, clothed him, made his lunches for school. He was a good kid with a heart of gold. He would have done anything to fit in. All he ever wanted was to feel like he had a family other than the shitty hand we were dealt. I hoped if I guided him in the right direction and stuck by his side it would be enough. But in the end, I failed him.
“He was just a kid.” I meet Albie’s dead eyes. “A fucking kid.”
His lips twist beneath the duct tape, and I can tell he’s smiling when I reach for his hand. It’s all a bleeding joke to him. But it stops being funny when the shears close around his index finger and I start to squeeze.
It’s a lot harder than I expected. There’s a crunch of bone and tissue before a tortured groan rumbles from Albie’s chest. Blood starts to seep from the wound, dripping onto the floor and making a real mess of what I’m trying to do. I can’t seem to get through the bone.
“It takes a wee bit to get the technique down,” Reaper tells me. “Just give it a good hard squeeze.”
I do. I close my eyes and squeeze it like I wanted to squeeze that trigger the night before, and the nub of his finger falls to the floor with a satisfactory thud.
“Good on ya, lad.” Reaper pats me on the back. “Only nineteen more to go.”
He leaves me to it, and I’m surprised to find it gets a little easier each time. Albie’s squirming against the table, moaning and whining and carrying on like the pussy he is. Blood sprays my face and clothes, but I can’t smell it anymore. It’s like I’m in a trance and all I can hear is the sound of Albie’s pain. I like it a lot more than I expected to.
The door opens, and another guy walks in. He’s got a bowl full of stew of some sort, which he continues to eat while he watches.
“Rory.” Reaper greets him.
“Fitz.”
Rory finishes his food and then sets the bowl aside, leaning back against the counter in the same fashion as the Reaper. “What’s the deal with this bloke?”
“They were both at the warehouse last night,” Reaper explains. “One on the table killed his kid brother.”
“Look at him go.” Rory eyes me off. “Kid’s a natural. What’s your name lad?”
“Conor.” I nod to him and then continue on with my work. I’ve still got four toes to get through and Albie’s screaming like a banshee now, nearly choking on his own tongue.
“Conor,” Rory muses. “Ye might just have yourself a new apprentice, Fitz.”
Reaper’s response is dry and to the point. “He’ll chuck when he’s through.”
“We all chucked the first time,” Rory says.
Reaper shrugs. “Crow gave him a deal anyhow. The lad won’t be sticking around.”
The room goes silent. When I glance at Rory, the amusement has disappeared from his face. He doesn’t like the sound of this deal, but I don’t know why he cares one way or another.
“The lad was in agreement,” Reaper clarifies.
“He’s a fucking kid,” Rory mutters under his breath. “Does Niall know about this?”
Silence. Again.
They don’t say anything else when I turn away, but the door shuts, and I know they’re both outside discussing the situation. I don’t let it ruffle my feathers. I gave them my word, and if there’s one thing my Pop beat into me over the years, it’s that a man has to stay true to his word.
My word is all I’ve ever had, and besides, it’s not like there’s anything left for me here. Ma’s dead. Pop and Brady too. I’ve been wandering this city without an ounce of purpose for months and I’m tired. Sammy was the only thing I had left, and she sure as fuck didn’t give a shite about me when I caught her banging some random bloke in the alley last month for a fix. Doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone now too. Took her last needle to the arm a couple weeks ago.
I put those thoughts out of my mind as the last of Albie’s toes fall into the bowl. When Reaper comes back, Rory is gone, and that suits me just fine.
“Alright, lad,” he says. “How do ye feel about blow torches?”
I wake with a start, shaking myself out of the past as my eyes scan the surroundings of my present. The dream doesn’t come as a surprise, I have them often. I’ll never forget how that night changed my life, but sometimes, it does well to have a reminder. It’s trying to come back down to earth that’s the hard part. But when I glance around Rory’s apartment, I know I’ve come a long way since I first killed a man in that dingy basement at Sláinte.