Page 66 of Silver Sinner

A man with dark hair trudges out of an open door, topless with cargo shorts hanging off his hips and a joint dangling loose from his fingers. He squints toward us and only seems to notice we're strangers a second before my fist flies into his face. The man flies back with a grunt and a splutter of blood, hitting the door and almost slouching to the floor. I catch him with my fist around his throat and throw him into the room.

He yells out in alarm as he crashes down onto a wooden table that immediately collapses under his weight, sending ashtrays, bongs and old pizza boxes crashing to the floor with him. A second man lounges on the couch, but he jerks upward as the man lands, and his eyes widen into saucers.

"Drake, what the fuck is going on?!" he yells toward the man on the floor.

My lips twitch. "So, you're Drake, huh?"

Drake's trying to untangle himself from wood splinters and broken debris when I lean down and grab him by the shoulders. Moses surges past me and grabs the other man by the neck of his shirt, hauling him to his feet with one hand.

"Who the fuck are you?" Drake yells through the blood pouring from his broken nose. Curling my fist, I punch him hard in the gut. The pain forces him to double over with a gasp, then I slam my knuckles into his jaw and he flies backward in a spray of saliva and blood.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Moses grappling with the other man, but he's easy to overpower given how high he apparently is.

"My name is Pierce," I growl, stalking after Drake as he tries to crawl backward on the floor. "You broke into the home of someone very dear to me tonight." As he lurches away, I grab at his ankle and draw him right back to me. "That's the last mistake you will ever make. Get the fuck up."

Drake hauls himself to his feet and glares at me. "Fuck you, old man. You don't know who the hell you're messing with!"

He lunges at me, fueled by the arrogance of youth, and misses. As he passes me, I swing my elbow around and crack him on the side of the head, then I grab a fistful of his hair and throw him toward the wall. As he bounces off it, I'm right there in front of him, and I pummel him back with a series of strong, furious punches. My fist collides with his ribs, his gut, his face, and side, but none of the blows sink deep enough or hard enough to satisfy me.

"You hurt her," I snarl. "You stood over her and screamed at her, demanded things she didn't have and more than that—“ As Drake sags from the wall, I grab his face with both hands and slam his head down as I thrust my knee up. A spark of pain flashes through my leg as his teeth catch and break on my kneecap, but it's barely even a sensation. Drake collapses to the ground and grunts in agony when my boot collides with his gut.

"You hurt her child. A fucking child, you sick cunt!"

"Drake!" The other man's yell is cut off by Moses punching him hard across the face.

"Shut the fuck up," he barks at him.

"Tell my why the fuck I shouldn't kill you right now." I stand over the cowering man as he hugs his stomach, weakly trying to protect it.

"P-Please," he wheezes weakly. "P-Please, she w-was just some chick. Some ch-chick."

I breathe deeply through my nose. Some chick? I know it's more than that. Amy made it more than that. Whatever the true reason is though, it hardly matters now that they are all dealt with.

"Some chick?" I repeat coldly. "That chick is the reason I'm going to kill you."

"No!" Through broken teeth and bubbles of blood, Drake finds it in himself to rise onto his knees. "Please, I got money! Drugs! Anything! I can pay you."

"There's nothing you can offer that I want anything to do with," I reply coldly. "But I do like seeing you beg." I lean down, my eyes never leaving his. "Beg for your life."

"Please," he gasps. "It was just some stupid joke, okay? We were just after money. Please, please d-don't kill me! I-I can give you anything you want, please! I don't wanna die for some bitch, please man, let's talk about this! Please⁠—"

His last word as he begs for his life rings in the air like the clang of a bell when I pull out my gun and shoot him between the eyes. It's a clean, satisfying shot, and his body folds back like a lawn chair while his friend in the corner suddenly bursts into laughter.

"Holy shit!" he gasps, leaning into Moses.

I turn to face him. "Where is the necklace?"

The laughing man clutches at his side, then he points past Moses to a cardboard box resting on a chair tucked in against a small, white table. Moses grabs the man by the back of the neck and drags him to the box where, true enough, the necklace sits on top. Moses picks it up and throws it to me, then spots something on the table and picks it up.

"Ant?" he reads off. "Is that your name?"

The laughing man nods. It's difficult to tell if he's laughing because he's having a breakdown or because of the drugs flooding through his system—drugs harder than weed judging by the needle marks resting in the crook of his elbow.

"You robbed that place with him, didn't you?" I ask coldly, stalking toward him.

Ant nods. "Hell yeah, brother!"

I aim and shoot him twice in each thigh, ending his laughter and replacing it with screams of pain as he collapses to the floor. His mouth twists open into a lopsided O and stays that way after I shoot him in the head.