You’re not going to make it out alive.
He was going to take Alan out, and if he went down with him, he’d be happy. Lucas didn’t care if he made it out alive, as long as he hurt Alan in the process. Going unnoticed, he followed Alan to the club seeing his entourage of security men. From the age of ten, Lucas had been learning how to fire a gun. He learned with Trevor, and by fifteen he was an expert shooter.
At twenty-three years old he was a machine, deadly. He could hold his own in The Skulls. It was the only place he wanted to be. Rubbing a hand down his face, he carried the weapons in the back of his jeans. There was no metal security detector on the way inside the club. He entered the bar and ordered himself a beer. Looking around the tight space he saw the women, the drugs, and settled his gaze on Alan. The man was in a VIP section, which was partitioned off with glass. The moment Alan stood, he’d be easy to kill.
Was this some kind of power trip to show everyone else how powerful he was?
Alan f**ked with the wrong man.
Sipping at his beer, he checked the security of the men. They were bored and used to working like this to keep him safe. The men were not even on their guard. Didn’t they expect anyone to try to take out their boss? Once he started shooting, he would have to work quickly to get out of there.
He killed Trevor. No walking away, no backing out.
Fight to the death.
He and Trevor had promised each other a lifetime of friendship. Nothing could keep either of them from what they wanted—until this f**ker had taken Trevor away from him.
Kill him. Hurt him.
Trevor died slowly. The only person he’d called was Lucas.
Waiting for the right opportunity was his best course of action. Sipping at his beer, he saw the right opportunity as Alan’s security guards turned their backs on the crowd, bored with looking after someone who wasn’t in danger.
They were mistaken. Getting closer was easier. Lucas had learned to fire both guns at the same time. The summers growing up he’s spent the time practicing to fire both as he wanted to be like the cowboys in the movies. Not many men could fire two guns at the same time, but he’d trained to the point of ease.
Drawing them out, he took out the first two men along with the three charging toward them. With them down, he ran toward the glass, knocked Alan out and dragged him out of the back of the club. He had learned the layout of the club easily. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Lucas continued to move, all the time thinking about his best friend.
He dumped Alan in the back of his truck he’d rented and drove to the abandoned glass building he found in the outskirt of the city. The windows were smashed, and there were cobwebs everywhere. Securing Alan to the chair took little effort. Lucas stared at the man who had taken Trevor away from him and Prue. His morbid thoughts were starting to sound like a broken record.
The man was handsome. Good for Alan. Lucas had practiced his carving skills.
Pouring bottled water into the man’s face, he waited for Alan to come around.
“What? What the f**k?”
See, a criminal was just human and easy to get to. No one was above death, not even Alan.
“Hello, sunshine.”
Alan didn’t look a day older than thirty.
“Who the f**k are you?” Alan asked.
Smiling, Lucas grabbed a scalpel and impaled it in Alan’s leg. The other man screamed, cursing.
“What the f**k?”
Removing the blade, he stabbed it into Alan’s leg three more times. “So you are f**king human. People I’ve been talking to think you piss gold or some shit like that.”
“You better release me before my men find me and f**k you up.” Alan struggled against the restraints holding him.
“Good. The moment they get here, find you, I’ll kill you.” Lucas pulled out the two guns and placed them on the tray he’d set up with all of his instruments. “It’s amazing really. You’re not a very liked person. The people I spoke to were more than happy to give me everything I needed. You made a lot of enemies.”
“Being king to the commoners means making enemies,” Alan said, spitting onto the ground.
“You’re king?”
“Someone needs to take care of the whores, the drugs, and the shit-heads.”
“Yeah, I’m sure with your pretty face all the women come to you for help, and instead of getting heaven, you throw them into hell.” Standing up, Lucas grabbed his knife from the back of his pocket. He walked behind Alan, grabbed him by the head, and slid the blade down Alan’s face. “Let’s see how many women want you near them when you look like a f**king monster.”
For the next hour, Lucas worked over Alan’s face. When he was done, he gripped the blade and slammed it into Alan’s back, twisting the knife. The screams gave him little pleasure. It didn’t matter how much Alan screamed. He wouldn’t be getting Trevor back and Alan wasn’t going to get his looks back.
Half way through the torture, Alan pissed himself. Not caring, Lucas pulled out the envelope Trevor left him.
Dear Lucas and Prue,
I f**ked up big. I’m not going to make it through the night. I’m so sorry to you both for letting you down. I thought I was doing the right thing. I f**ked up my delivery, and the others went back to Alan. They were working for him trying to get more money. Alan shot me, and now I’m f**king dying.
Lucas stopped reading as he saw the bloodstains. The writing was all over the place, the ink showing the pain Trevor had been in.
“Fuck, I can’t feel my legs.” Alan’s voice was disjointed, showing his pain. His face was a f**king mess.
“Maybe I cut a nerve. Don’t worry, it’ll be years of physical therapy if you make it out of here alive,” he said. Lucas shrugged, no longer giving a shit.
“What did I do to you?”
Ignoring the man, he went back to the letter.
Lucas, you were my brother. I have no choice but to beg you to take care of Prue. She needs you now more than ever. I’ve let you down as a friend, and now I’ve let you down as a brother. I’m so sorry. She needs to be looked after. I’ve kept her away from all this shit. If Alan ever finds out about her, it will be you and her he’s after.
There’s a rumor about him. When he goes after the people someone cares about he works out the number, and each time he marks one off, he reevaluates the number. There are three of us, so one down, two to go.
Please, be safe. I love you both, and I wish it could be different.
Love to you both,
Trevor