Page 89 of Payback
“But I didn’t steal from a person.”
I sighed, disinterested in a debate about the nuances of stealing from people versus establishments. Such discussions were not my purpose there. I was here to ensure he faced consequences for crossing Vince. He couldn’t allow people to undermine him. The penalty for such defiance was death. With determination, I retrieved a knife from my bag, causing Pete to shrink back in fear.
“Wow, wow,” he stammered. “Easy now, w-we don’t need to go that far. Just tell me what I took, and I’ll give it back,” he pleaded.
“I don’t think that’s possible. You sold it,” I informed him.
“Sold it? What did I sell?”
“It doesn’t matter, but no one crosses The Hunter,” I warned.
“The Hunt...” The realization slowly dawned on Pete as to whom I was referring, his eyes widening and his already pale skin turning even paler. “Oh... fuck.”
“When people cross him, he becomes rather enraged.”
“No, no, you don’t understand!” Pete burst out. “I didn’t steal anything!”
“Sure, you didn’t,” I retorted, rising from my seat and circling him slowly. I extended my arm, grazing the knife against his cheek, leaving a cut. He winced, recoiling. “You should have been more careful.”
“But I didn’t take anything!”
I seized his hair, yanking his head backward. “You can’t escape this. We both know how this will end.”
I raised the knife, edging the blade closer to his eye, causing him to tightly shut it, as if his eyelid would shield him. Yet, you didn’t plunge headfirst into icy waters. You got used to the temperature slowly. So, I pulled back, releasing him.
“Listen, don’t do this, man,” he pleaded. “I can assure you I didn’t do anything to The Hunter. But if you kill me, serious shit will hit the fan.”
“Should anyone care about a lowlife addict?” I questioned, doubting his significance.
He glanced aside. “I have connections.”
“What connections?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“Just don’t do this. Walk away, man. I won’t say anything. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckled nervously.
“I can’t do that, and we both know it.”
“No, but you don’t understand...”
“What?” I questioned, observing him glancing around, his eyes struggling to focus on anything. His erratic behavior was typical of an addict. Maintaining concentration was a challenge, but his twitching movements and his insistence on not having crossed Vince were perplexing. However, extracting a confession required patience, and I was aware that with a little push, he would eventually reveal his actions to me. Vince didn’t consider it crucial for me to know all the specifics, and I had no desire to ask. Yet, it had become a pattern for people to spill their confessions near their end. Consequently, sometimes I possessed more information than necessary, but I kept this fact concealed from Vince. I remained entirely tight-lipped, ensuring that no one faced consequences due to it. “What are you concealing from me?”
“Just walk away,” he whispered.
“I can’t do that, Pete. Repaying debts is my responsibility,” I informed him before thrusting my knife into his thigh, simultaneously covering his mouth with my hand.
Chapter 45
-Jared-
I struck Pete’s face with a forceful punch, causing it to jerk to the side, and he spat out more blood. Surprisingly, despite the prolonged duration of our encounter, he had yet to confess to anything. He persisted in urging me to walk away. Even now, with one eye swollen shut and the other barely open, his face a canvas of blood, he kept repeating the same thing.
Just walk away, just walk away, just walk away...
It was like a broken record caught in a ceaseless loop, and the repetition was beginning to mess with my actions, diminishing the power of my blows. Stepping back, I observed him coughing and expelling blood as he tried to recover from the harsh treatment. The knife I had used on him was no longer in his thigh, but in my hand. However, I had forcefully removed some of his fingernails, inflicted multiple gashes across his chest, and even employed a nail gun to pierce his hand, subsequently withdrawing the nail at a slow pace. Nevertheless, he persisted in repeating those same words. I lowered myself into the chair across from him, attempting to fathom why he clung to that phrase. He displayed unwavering certainty that he hadn’t done anything, but Vince didn’t make errors of this magnitude. He meticulously researched his targets, adhering to the principles he had instilled in me, and he never made a mistake. Any misstep could jeopardize his entire organization. Thus, why was Pete so determinate in his conviction that he hadn’t done anything wrong?
“Tell me,” I urged, my voice an unyielding demand.
He raised his head slightly, attempting to focus on me with the one functional eye that remained.
