Forever Zara: (novella 9.5) by V. Theia (knowledgeable books to read txt) 📗

the perfect time to cut them down to size. He’d waited more than a year for this showdown. So while his uncle prattled on about how great his reign was, Rider listened and poured him more whiskey.

The idiot should know by now never to accept a drink from an enemy.

“First thing you gotta do is…”

Rider tuned him out because he was watching Rex’s every reaction. When Rex’s speech became slurred, he smiled, rimming his untouched glass of whiskey.

Sweat dotted Rex’s forehead, and he swiped it away with his forearm.

“And if they give you any trouble, you mention my name.”

“Why is that?” Rider asked, tone even and hard. “Is it because you’re the one who sponsored the Rebels coming back to life? You and your best friend, the mayor, fronting up the money.”

Rex’s shrewd eyes snapped up, and the truth was right there before he closed it down.

“Whatcha talkin’ about, boy?”

“I have it from the horse’s mouth how you were the one to reform the band again. Only it was with a purpose, wasn’t it, uncle? To fuck with my club. And more personally, to fuck with me and mine. Cause as much damage was their objective. Bring coke through my territory, make it so my attention was divided. Isn’t that right?”

Rising from his seat, Rider’s stride was slow as he picked up his glass between his thumb and forefinger, he placed it on the counter and turned back to his uncle.

“Have you ever seen a movie where the bad guy takes the time to boast about his big fuckin’ evil plan? And the audience knows it’s giving the good guy too much time to get out of his quandary?” Rider asked easily. Resting his ass on the unit behind him, he looked relaxed to the untrained eye.

This was the final act.

The fanfare and curtain call.

The place he’d worked toward for months now.

No one could accuse a Marinos of being fair when he’d been crossed.

He was as fucking cutthroat as the man in front of him.

The difference being, Rider put in the work. He wasn’t a lazy fucker cutting corners. When he went all out to destroy a man, he did it systemically without missing a step.

“You got this all backward.” Rex slurred, sweating liberally.

Rider bet he was feeling like shit right now like he could vomit up his lungs. The poison in his drink was lethal; it didn’t go easy on the body; it ate through the organs like a full-scale buffet.

Rex groaned and rubbed his belly, breathing like he’d been running from wild dogs, wiping oozing sweat from his ruddy face.

“I’m that guy, uncle. The one who explains how I fucked you over. For months, I’ve been fuckin’ you, and you had no idea. How’s it feel? I’m feeling pretty chipper.” He smirked darkly, veins on fire. He could have killed this man in many ways. A bullet to the forehead, a car bomb, a knife in the gut, leaving him bleeding out. Between Lawless and Hawk, they could have given him lengthy ideas for a painful death. Cutting him up into tiny pieces, slicing him from throat to dick until his intestines poured out onto the floor.

But Rider didn’t work that way.

“Rider… what?”

It was when Rex slumped forward that Rider moved forward.

Not to help the man.

Realization became clear for Rex, and panic stole over his face.

“What did you do?”

NINETEEN

“I guess I’m off his Christmas card list now.” - Rider

Sweating profusely.

Every drop of blood drained out of Rex’s complexion. Babbling incoherently, he attempted to lift himself but crumbled like rotten meat.

“I’ll relish the last few breaths you have left. It won’t be long now. How’s it feel to die with nothing, uncle? To know I bested you even when you tried so fuckin’ hard. You know, I might have gone easy on you, laughed off your attempts to get the club back, to outfox my business ventures. Nice try, by the way. A bit amateurish, if you don’t mind me saying so. But saying all that, I might have gone easy on you. My Zara’s doing; she’s been a good influence. But bringing the Rebels back, that was the nail in your coffin, uncle. As they say in chess, wrong fuckin’ move. Anything that hurts my old lady is unforgivable in my eyes.”

“Ajax… Ajax won’t. H-help me, boy… we… I’m your family.” stuttered the dying man, clawing at his own throat for breath.

“Mad-dog couldn’t give less of a fuck about you, you piece of shit, and neither do I. He’s been helping me all along.”

The man was dying, but it was finding out his only brother was against him that put hurt on his face. Fucking shame about that.

One minute.

And then two.

Rex was incapable of speaking.

Rider didn’t look away.

He waited until the end.

Death wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t a joy to watch.

But he watched anyway.

Until Rex’s breaths stopped, and he slumped back, his neck lolling, eyes open.

Inhaling slowly, Rider felt nothing other than a sense of completion.

Another enemy bested.

Killing Rex was anticlimactic.

Not that Rider was looking to get his rocks off over it. But he expected to feel something. He wasn’t a monster; he did what needed to be done.

But when it came, when his uncle was dead in the chair, he felt nothing other than knowing it was over.

He’d toyed with him for more than a year, so maybe he had a little monster in him.

Hawk didn’t bother knocking after Rider texted him. Coming through the door, he closed it quietly, eyeballing the corpse spilled over in the chair. He walked with slow steps. “How the fuck do we get him into the truck? We don’t have time for me to cut him up.”

He said it like the