Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Mack
Evgeni stared murder at me and took a step forward.
I rolled down the window.
“Get out of the way.”
I tried to keep my voice steady and calm, the way he taught me. So much of my life was wrapped up in his voice, his mannerisms.
I hated myself for it.
He didn’t move. Only stared at me with those rage-filled eyes.
Those eyes I knew so damn well.
“You did all this for me, didn’t you?” He came forward slowly, never taking his eyes from mine. “You killed for me again, didn’t you, Mack? You want to come back into the family, don’t you, son? I always knew you were amazing, but I didn’t know how incredible you could be. Two families wiped out by a single, determined man.”
I gripped the steering wheel, my lips pulled back over my teeth in half a grimace and half a snarl.
So much of my life was spent in thrall to this bastard. My childhood was obliterated in a mess of beatings and hours spent training as he molded me into the type of emotionless killer he needed to help build his empire. I was his tool from the start, a finely crafted tool, but nothing more than an object to be used and discarded once I was no longer of use.
Without me, he would be nothing. And still I didn’t matter.
I could still hear him on the other side of a locked door as I lay curled up in an empty bathtub when I was fourteen years old. For three days, I was left there alone, covered in my own filth. You need to be stronger, boy.
He didn’t call me son back then.
“Move.” I spoke the word like a commandment, like an intonation.
Like a prayer.
He stopped, but he didn’t step aside. “Why have you broken all my trust? After I gave you so much?”
“Move.”
“I made you what you are. I gave you everything, Mack. I brought you into my life, into my family, and made you like my child. I molded you and loved you, and together we built so much, and now you want to leave me? You want to walk away from me?”
“Move, Evgeni.” The words snapped from my tongue like knives. “Moved or get run down.”
“You’d never hurt me. I know you better than you know yourself, Mack. Do you remember what I said to you when I first took you in? I said I’d give you another chance. I said I’d give you a new life.”
I remembered that all too well. I remembered the smile, the extended hand. I needed that so badly right then—my mother was dead and still hanging in my mind and my father was a puddle of brains and blood on the floor.
I needed Evgeni and he was all too willing to take advantage.
“I was a little boy.” My chest heaved, my stomach boiled. My blood felt like fire.
“And I gave you a home. I held you while you cried and cleaned your wounds when you were hurt.”
“Those tears and those wounds were because of you.” I slammed my fist against the horn. Evgeni didn’t even flinch. “Move.”
“I loved you, boy. I loved you and wanted so much for you. I thought we could rule this city together. Me on a throne and you as my right hand. You were always my best man, Mack. You were always my strongest gun. Get out of the truck and come back to me. Give me that shipment and return into my service. It’s not too late to repent.”
I felt him punch my child body in the throat, in the stomach, in the jaw, in the nose. I felt him break my child arm and my child leg. I felt him starve away so much of my life and turn me into a black beast that did nothing but stalk the sidewalk in search of whatever prey he sent me after.
My house was empty. My life was meaningless.
Until Fiona.
She came into my world and turned on all the lights.
She made me realize I could be loved by someone, that I wasn’t doomed to exist solely for death and destruction, that I could be so much more.
I could worship her. I could give her the world.
Evgeni never wanted that for me. He needed me empty.
Fiona only wanted me.
I slammed my foot down on the gas.
Evgeni looked surprised. It was the first time I’d ever seen him shocked.
The expression was like sweet honey on my tongue.
He tried to dive out of the way, but he was too slow. The truck clipped him hard, sent him tumbling. I heard his body bounce off the front, heard him scream in pain.
Maybe he was dead. I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter anymore.
I was breaking free. Shattering the bonds that held me back.
Now there was only Fiona. Wherever she was.
She had to be okay.
I crashed into the SUV, slamming it aside. I jolted forward and barely kept control as I swung out into traffic, the truck rolling up on two wheels. The smell of gasoline and burned tires wafted up into the air as I dropped back down and peeled out, flying fast away from the middle school, away from the slaughter, away from my past, away from the man that abused me and tore me into pieces and wanted me to be grateful for it.
I hoped he was dead.
