Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I push Elyse’s mother out of the way and half knock over her dad. I couldn't care less, though. I have one thing on my mind.
I sprint to my car and climb into it. My tires squeal against the pavement as I haul ass out of the parking lot. I honk my horn and blow through every stop sign along the way. Staring at the address on the paper, I make certain I’m going the right way. Then I pull out my phone and call Damon.
I don’t have time for pleasantries, so I give him the address and tell him to meet me there. Not that I’m going to need help with the killing part. It's the cleaning up I’ll need Damon for.
I pull onto the street, searching for the house number. As soon as I spot it, I drive into the middle of the front lawn, cut the engine, and jump out of the car. I don’t knock or check if the door is open.
Being in a do things, asks questions later kind of mood, I run toward it and kick it open as I go. My foot lands a few inches away from the door knob and the wood around it gives way with a loud crack. Another kick at the same spot and the door swings open.
As soon as I step over the threshold, I know my father is here. The house is vacant, not a single belonging, and though I can’t explain how I know, I just do.
It’s dark now, and there is no light filtering into the house. I see a shadow moving to my left and follow it. My first concern is finding Elyse.
And then I see him—another shadow.
“You’ve always been a fucking coward. Hiding in the dark, only brave enough to fight people half your size. Why don’t you come out and be a man for once in your pathetic fucking life,” I say as I creep through the house, my feet agile, my body ready for a fight, hoping I can draw him out.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you can’t be a man. Never have been one. You are nothing more than a fucking loser who can’t keep a job or a woman. And you’ll never be anything besides a lo—” my words are cut off as a body slams into me. I stagger to the side, but stay on my feet.
“Who do you think you are talking to, boy?” he growls into my ear while swinging at me furiously.
He gets a couple good jabs in, but I barely feel those. I grab his fists and twist his arms until he grunts in pain, then I kick his legs out from under him. He falls to the floor with a hard thud, and a thunderous feeling encompasses me.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair with my left hand, I hold his head in place and pull my other hand back. I make a tight fist and slam into his jaw, hitting him over and over again.
Eventually, he stops struggling, and after a few punches, his body goes limp in my hold.
I snarl, angry he’s such a piece of shit, he couldn't even stay awake. My muscles are burning from excursion, air fills my lungs, but I don’t fully breathe. Every time I think of pulling away, I see Elyse and her beautiful face covered in blood and continue punching him until his face is completely unrecognizable. “How dare you fucking touch her!” I seethe into the nothingness. “You piece of shit!” I yell. I push onto my feet and start kicking him, wishing he’d wake the hell up so I could do it all over again.
Blood drips off my hands onto the floor—and I enjoy it. I enjoyed killing him, more than I enjoyed killing my stepfather. I smile, staring down at his pathetic body. I don’t even hear Damon come in, so when he appears from around the corner, I lunge at him. It takes me a moment to get my bearings as Damon’s words echo through my mind.
“Jesus fuck, Hero! We’ve got him. Go get Elyse.” He shoves in the opposite direction of my father's body.
It occurs to me I never asked him where she was.
I run out of the room and start searching through the entire house. “Elyse!” I call out her name, over and over again.
Dread creeps in, and I worry he may have killed her. I keep running from room to room, yelling her name. Then a door under the staircase catches my eye. Of course, the fucking basement.
I rip the door open so harshly, the old piece of shit comes off its hinges. I fly down the stairs and come to a sudden halt on the bottom step. I wish more than anything I could un-see what I’m seeing right now.