always liked working out, taking care of myself, and I would go running when I could so I was fucking quick on my feet. I liked watching the MMA games when we were allowed the TV on at the group home and I knew that someday I'd want to get in those cages.
Even then I knew I wasn't going to be someone who let my opponents live.
Win or die.
It's in my blood.
So I'm busy raking fucking leaves in the park near the city hall and I'm deep in the trees, so deep I can just barely see the giant plaques with quotes of justice on them, when two of the other kids jump me. A shovel to the back of the head took me down and dazed me enough that they get me on the ground, whaling on me and stomping on my ribs.
I didn't know it but the Adder had sent them to take care of me, the last piece of that puzzle taken care of.
Then one of them drops to the ground.
I manage to pick my brains up enough to grab the leg of the other one and snap it with my bare hands, malnutrition helping me out because it's like a fucking twig. The kid grunts but doesn't start screaming until he's on the ground with his friend and finally sees what dropped him.
There's a garden trowel sticking out of his fucking eye socket buried far enough that the jelly-like eyeball has oozed out and his brain matter is starting to show.
I stare over at him and then I see D'Ardo.
Skinny little fucking thing, all arms and cheekbones, but his eyes are fucking clear and sure. He knew what he was doing and this is an olive branch, a gesture of friendship.
I take it.
I take it because even my own worthless father didn't throw down like that for me, no one had done that shit for me since my mom was hacked to pieces.
"What's your name, kid?"
His eyes are like little black holes in his face as he swings them my way. "Matteo, but you already know who I am."
I shrug, lurching to my feet and wincing at the state of my head. I stare down at the guy who's still breathing, his chest heaving as he pukes his guts up. I don't know if it's the pain or his friend's leaking head that's got him losing his shit but it doesn't fucking matter. I glance around but there's no one close by.
"I know your story, doesn't mean I know you. You ever buried someone alive before?"
I swear I see these voids of his light up. "I can kill him for you too. There's nothing better than blood on your hands."
The guy on the ground starts fucking sobbing.
Pathetic.
"Dead men don't talk. If you really want to hang out with me then we do this my way." I grab the shovel they had used on the back of my head and hold it out to the kid.
He stares at it.
I huff under my breath. "You've escaped juvie once, you think you'll be lucky a second time? Dig a hole. I'll take care of this guy."
The guy on the ground is now trying to crawl away, his broken leg dragging at a weird angle that must be fucking painful but his survival instinct has kicked in and he's figured out this is the end of the line for him now... too bad it's a little too fucking late.
I'm not my fucking dad.
I take care of my own shit.
Matteo smirks at the look on my face, something there telling him I'm not pussying out of the job, and he starts digging. I slip the knife out of my jeans, something I've carried long before I came to the group home and I step forward to stand on the ankle of his broken leg.
He grunts. But holds back a scream
Doesn't fucking matter, those plaques of justice mean fucking nothing in this city. The only justice around here is the type you get in the streets, an eye for an eye.
"Were you sent by someone or was this some sort of pissing contest, trying to look big by taking me out?"
The guy's lip wobbles but he doesn't breathe a word.
Fine.
We'll do it the hard way.
He ends up a strong guy, even after I've slit his belly open and pulled his guts out he stays conscious. Doesn't tell me a goddamn thing but when the kid helps me roll his body into the