Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
When we were together, I didn’t hurt.
My shoulder ached, but the pain in my soul was dimmed to nearly nothing.
No horrible memories. No bloodlust. No rage.
I could just be with her.
Watching her is everything. Staring at her every movement. At the way she wriggles her nose. At her twitchy little movements, at her snorts and coughs. Even the way she sneezes three times in a row. An excessive amount, but perfect on her. I love watching her witchy red hair and her cute little mouth and that sexy fucking body of hers.
I could stare at her all day. I would, if I weren’t fighting a war.
She has no idea how much I watch her.
But unfortunately, I have to get some work done.
“That’s our boy,” Tigran says suddenly, sitting up straight. Across the street, a slouchy young man strides into the corner store and disappears. “Fuck, he’s really showing up.”
“Told you he’s got a fucking problem.” I shove my door open and step out. “Guy loves scratchers.”
“But why always get them from one place?”
“He told me a few years back. He thinks every bodega’s got at least one winner in them. He thinks if he keeps coming here, he’ll find it.”
“Cousin Vahagn’s dumb as hell.”
“Nobody said he was a genius.” I push into the store and look around. The guys behind the counter are both bored-looking young men. They ignore me. A couple of women are chatting near the soda machine, and I spot the top of Vahagn’s head bobbing in front of the big lottery dispenser. “Watch the front,” I murmur at Tigran before heading to the back.
Vahagn doesn’t even look up as I approach. He’s too busy mumbling to himself and rubbing a cheap ten-dollar card with a coin. I walk right up to him and shove the barrel of my gun against his ribs.
“Hello, Cousin.”
He freezes. His eyes go wide. “Fuck. Arsen?”
“Let’s talk.”
“What are you doing here, man?”
“Getting information.”
His ticket falls to the floor. It’s a loser. “I don’t know anything. Fuck, bro, you know I’m not even good like that.”
“You’re in the family. You chose your side. Now it’s time to play the game.” I shove the gun against him harder. “Walk.”
He’s shaking as I force him into a small side hall. It ends in a vending machine and doors to the bathrooms. They’re both locked.
“Uncle Garen doesn’t tell me shit,” Vahagn says as he glances at me. I keep the gun against his chest. “You know that, man.”
“All I want to know is where Aunt Sona’s been spending time lately.”
He groans. “Come on, man, that shit between you guys—”
“You betrayed your family,” I snarl in his face. “You left with Aunt Sona and Uncle Garen. You could have stayed, but you chose.”
“Shit,” he whispers, whimpering, the pathetic fucking vermin. Vahagn always was pathetic. “Please.”
“Aunt Sona likes you. We both know it. She’s been doting on you since you were a fucking baby. Tell me where she’s been hanging out and you can walk away from this alive.”
“Fuck.” He looks up at the ceiling. “You’re going to kill her.”
“I tried talking. She stabbed me.”
“Bro—”
I shove the gun harder. “Last chance. Either you talk or you die. At least killing you will hurt her.”
“There’s a salon,” he says quickly. “She gets her nails done there like once a week. I go with her sometimes.”
“Where?”
“Place called Beauty Queens. It’s in some strip mall in the suburbs. She’s there on Tuesdays.”
“That’s very helpful, Cousin.”
He looks relieved. “Just don’t tell her it was me, okay? I don’t want her to know.”
“Don’t worry.” I lean in close so he can see my smile. “It won’t matter either way.”
I pull the trigger. His body jerks as the bullet rips into his chest and tears a hole in his heart. His mouth opens in shock and blood pours from the wound. I shove him away and he slumps sideways.
“Arsen!” Tigran’s voice from up front. “Hey, fuck, incoming!”
I rush into the main store. My brother’s standing beside the door with his gun drawn. The guys behind the counter both look terrified and one’s on the phone, probably calling the cops.
Outside, three men in black ski masks are stalking toward the entrance.
I grab Tigran and yank him away. The woman near the soda machine screams as we barrel past. We step over Vahagn’s corpse and I try to kick open one of the bathrooms, but it doesn’t budge.
“No other way out,” Tigran says sounding grim.
The door opens with the tinkle of a bell.
I take the lead. The women start running as the masked men storm into the place. I rush behind them and use them as a distraction. One of the men starts shooting first and hits the woman coming toward him in the leg. She shrieks and drops as the other keeps going. I roll to the side and start shooting low, skidding to a halt before I slam into the front counter. The shooter gets hit in the thigh and the stomach, screaming in pain. As he falls, I get off one good shot and hit him in the forehead, killing him instantly. The injured woman screams bloody murder as she crawls across the floor in a pool of blood and pain.