Page 7 of Saint’s Revenge

Chapter 2 - Riley

My head is ringing. Has been for hours. Since Daniel's fist connected with my jaw hard enough that I tasted copper and felt my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek.

I'm on the floor.

That's all I know for certain right now. Cold concrete pressing against my side, my arms, my face. Everything else is pain, darkness and the sound of gunfire that started maybe thirty seconds ago and hasn't stopped.

I try to move. My ribs scream in protest. Pretty sure at least two are cracked. Maybe three. Daniel didn't hold back once he got started.

Never does anymore.

The phone call was stupid. I knew it was stupid even as I was doing it. Knew someone might notice me leaving at dawn, might see me sitting in my car with my phone pressed to my ear, might report back to Daniel because that's what happens when you live with fifteen men who are all terrified of their leader and looking for ways to prove their loyalty.

Trey was the one who told him. Saw me through the window, watched me drive back ten minutes later, went straight to Daniel.

Daniel called me down to the main floor an hour later. Casual. Like nothing was wrong.

"Take a walk with me," he said.

His voice was quiet. That's always worse than when he's screaming. The quiet means he's already decided what he's going to do and he's just going through the motions.

I followed him outside to the back of the warehouse. Away from the others. Just the two of us in the darkness before dawn.

"Trey says you left this morning," he said, not looking at me.

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Went for a drive."

"At six in the morning."

"Yeah."

He turned to face me then. Those eyes that used to look like his brother's but don't anymore. Something died in Daniel's eyes years ago. Now they're just empty. Cold.

"You call anyone?"

My heart dropped into my stomach. But I kept my face blank. "No. Why would I?"

"Don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"I didn't call anyone, Daniel. I just needed air. This place..." I gestured at the warehouse. "It's suffocating."

He stared at me for a long moment. I held his gaze. Didn't flinch. Didn't look away.

"You know what happens to people who betray me," he said.

"I'm not betraying you."

"Good." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Because you're the last person I have left who knew me before all this. Last person who remembers when I was someone else. I'd hate to lose that."

The first hit came so fast I didn't see it. Just felt the explosion of pain across my jaw, felt my head snap to the side, felt my knees give out. I hit the concrete hard, and tasted blood immediately.

"But I don't fucking believe you."

He kicked me in the ribs. Once. Twice. Three times. I curled into myself, tried to protect my vital organs, couldn't stop the sounds coming out of my throat—half gasp, half sob, all pain.

"You think I'm stupid?" He crouched down next to me. Grabbed my hair. Yanked my head back so I had to look at him. "You think I don't know you well enough to tell when you're lying?"

Another kick. This one to my back, right over my kidney. The pain was blinding.