Page 30 of Hansel
I didn’t want him to hear me coming. I wouldn’t give the asshole that kind of warning. If by a long shot Gretal was unharmed, I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to end it. Pope would know the moment he heard a bike pull up that it was all over. He would have nothing else to lose. And I didn’t want his final act to be slitting my wife’s throat.
Plucking my phone from my pocket, I hit the redial button, listening carefully as I slipped between the parked cars in the lot. I couldn’t be sure that Gretal was there.
An angry buzzing filled my ears. It was almost impossibly loud and I headed towards the car it was coming from. A small bright red sedan. Darcie’s car. How I hadn’t seen it before I didn’t know. Maybe because I hadn’t been looking for it. Maybe I had just been so caught up in finding Pope that I had overlooked the obvious. Bending down, I peered through the window. A phone was on the floor - forgotten and ringing angrily. My name flashing up.
Gretal had taken Darcie’s car and she had come here. She had come voluntarily to take on a murderer. She was the most pig-headed, stubborn woman I knew.
But also, the bravest.
My fingers flew over the touchpad of my phone, sending a message to the others that I had found her. Fang replied almost immediately: Havoc was closest, and I was to wait for him to arrive as back up. I wasn’t to go rushing in without someone having my back. Blah, blah, blah. Like Fang himself would wait if it was Gypsy in there. Gretal didn’t have time for me to hang around.
Turning on my heel, I surveyed the motel. The whole place was run down and dark. There were only two lights on: one in the office with its neon sign hanging overhead and one at the very end of the lot. Farthest away from me. It was in that direction that I headed, keeping low.
Pope wouldn’t be looking out the window, he would be too busy enjoying himself. Enjoying himself by hurting my wife. Bile rushed up my throat and I swallowed it down with difficulty.
I knew instinctively that it would be them behind that illuminated window. Pope wouldn’t work in darkness. He would want the light, to see what he was doing to her, to watch the fear on her face.
Pope had been my brother for years, and I had loved him as one. But I no longer knew that Pope. I doubted I had ever really known him. He was a different type of beast to Monster. Monster never hid what he was from us. He was a killer, yes, but not of women, not of innocents. Monster had a moral compass. Pope had none. He was out of control, and like all out of control animals he needed a firm hand.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Havoc was suddenly at my back, his voice quiet and oddly calm. I hadn’t heard him arrive which meant he had left his bike somewhere and rushed in on foot. Just like I had.
“Good to see you, brother.” I didn’t take my eyes away from the brightly lit rectangle of glass behind which I was sure Gretal was being hurt. Havoc followed my eyes. And when he spoke there was loathing in his voice.
“In there?”
“In there,” I repeated his words.
“How do you want to do this?” Havoc was a matter of fact about it, but I knew he was going through the same internal struggle that I was. Pope was a friend and brother. None of us wanted to believe that he could do this.
“Fast and hard.”
“You got it.”
We moved together, Havoc close to my back as I made a rush towards the door. It was flimsy and buckled easily under my weight.
“Get the fuck away from her.” I was screaming the words before I had even had a chance to take in the room. “If you have hurt her…”
“Hansel.” Havoc's voice was quiet and urgent.
Gretal was on the bed alright, but not like I had thought she would be. In nothing but her jeans and bra, she straddled Pope's hips. His hands were secured with what looked like handcuffs above his head. And my wife had a knife to his throat. There was already a thin trail of blood trickling down his skin.
“Well, fuck.” Havoc straightened. “Gretal, you are one badass bitch.”
I couldn’t agree more. She was a badass bitch, but I could see the trembling in her hand. She was terrified. Even when she had the upper hand, she was frightened of him.
“Your wife is a psychotic bitch, Hansel, get her under control!” Pope barked from his place on the bed. “Inviting me here to fool around and then trying to cut me. No wonder you kicked her ass out.”
“Asshole, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you.” The trembling in her hand increased.
“Baby?” Slowly, I closed my hand around hers, lowering the knife before she could make him bleed any more. He deserved to bleed, to die, but not by her hand. Once before I had let her take a life and it had haunted her ever since. I wouldn’t let her do it again. Pope would die, but it would be me or Monster, or even Gio that got to watch the light leave his eyes.
Gretal’s eyes rose to meet mine, swimming with tears. And then her shoulders sagged. “He deserves to die, Hansel. He does. I know he’s your brother but…”
My heart contracted. She thought I was taking Pope's side. “He will die, baby, but not by you. Let me…”
“What the hell do you mean I’m going to die? Why? Because you slut of a wife came on to me…?” Pope’s voice was shrill, but I didn’t let him finish. My fist smashed into his cheek. The bone splintered, I punched him again for good measure.
In the distance the roar of bikes filled my ears. The Savage Sons were coming.
