Page 112 of Laugh Little Sister
“You manipulated her into liking you. Led her along for her to develop a crush on you.” I grit my teeth and inhale the sweet vapor. The burning in my lungs grounds me. “I watched joy light up her face every time she fucking talked to you.”
The room falls quiet, and the back of my head burns from my friends staring a hole through me.
Stuffing my vape into my pocket, I bend over Brandon, my lips peeling back in a snarl. “And all this time, you’ve been worming your way into her good graces to get information about me and my friends.”
Brandon’s eyes peel open, and slowly they roll down to settle his unfocused gaze on me. The corner of his busted lip twitches in a smug smirk.
Red bleeds into my vision, and my head swims.
In a blink, he’s on the ground, face up and staring wide-eyed as I raise my leg and smash the bottom of my boot into his face. Blood sprays from his nose and mouth, and he lets out pained groans. I stomp again and again. More grunts, blood, and teeth.
A hand grabs my shoulder. I spin, fist flying toward the person. Hawk catches my wrist and ducks out of the path of my punch.
“He’s dead, bro.” He jerks his chin at Brandon’s prone body on the ground. “Can’t smash his skull any deeper than you already have.”
I blink and drop my arm to my side, not sparing Brandon a glance. I look at Ryder, Jaxon, and then Hawk, guilt tighteningmy chest. I don’t regret killing Brandon. He got what he deserved. But we were supposed to get answers from him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Ryder and Jaxon stride across the room, joining Hawk’s side.
“Don’t apologize for defending your girl.” Jaxon peers past me at the rider strapped to the chair. “We still have him.”
I nod and slip my hand into my pocket, fingering the piece of paper Hawk handed to me three days ago. It’s worn from the number of times I’ve folded and unfolded it, staring at the blown-up picture of Brandon’s car that Declan got from the security cameras.
“And we know Brandon’s last name now,” Ryder says, bringing me back to the conversation.
Jaxon’s eyes narrow. “Brandon Richards. Mickey Richards’ long-lost fucking cousin.”
“And I know who exactly he is.” I glance at the rider strapped to the chair. I take a drag from my vape and blow out a cloud of sweet vapor. “Isn’t that right, Jake?”
The End
