He reached into a gym bag behind the driver’s seat and pulled out a black dress shirt. He ripped off one of the sleeves using his bare hands. Then he lifted the stretched material and nodded at me as if assuring me that he truly was remorseful. The fabric covered my eyes as I bent forward, allowing him to tie it behind my head.

I’d already surrendered to my fate. It would have been useless to fight, and honestly—I had no fight left.

I felt him sit down next to me, our arms touching. I tipped my head back and leaned against the cool metal of the van.

I thought about my life.

About everything I’d been through.

I wondered if, or even how they would identify my body.

If somehow, somewhere, my parents would be notified.

And I wondered if they’d even care.

Nate

After driving to PJ’s house and Tiny forcefully removing him from the car, we drove to Uncle Benny’s. Technically, he wasn’t my uncle, but he’d known me since I was born. Benny and my dad were business partners up until Dad died when I was sixteen. At the time, it was just Dad and me.

The business ran well. Uncle Benny was the muscle. My dad—he was the brains. And when he died, I was given the opportunity to learn his trade and one day take over his position. The truth is—I had my own reasons for making the choice I did—one I kept completely to myself.

I quit school and did what was expected. I learned the ins and outs and committed my life to the job. Soon enough, the business became my family. Still, Uncle Benny reminded me I hadn’t earned shit. If not for my dad, I’d be another punk peddling dope on the streets.

But he was wrong, and he fucking knew it.

Six years on and I’d done my service.

Or at least, I made it seem that way.

After Tiny had announced our presence through the intercom, the gates to Uncle Benny’s house swung open. My eyes were fixed on the girl, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. Tiny parked in front of the door and hopped out. A moment later, the side door of the van slid open. “You got a game plan?” he asked.

“The truth,” I answered.

*

Uncle Benny’s eyes went huge when Tiny and I walked through his office doors, the girl stumbling between us. I was surprised PJ hadn’t called him yet—ratted us out like the prick he was. “What the fuck is this?” Benny snapped.

The three guards he kept around immediately stood up when they heard the anger in his voice.

“Settle down,” I told them. “In fact, I need a minute alone with Benny.”

Uncle Benny quirked an eyebrow at my casual tone. He was “Don” to everyone else. Just like I was “Boss.”

It was a rule.

No names.

“Don?” One of his gorillas asked.

He shooed them away with a wave of his hand. They left, no questions asked. I knew they hated me, twenty-two-year-old punk they had to call “Boss?” Of course, they despised me. But they respected my dad, so they kept their mouths shut.

I sat down on the other side of Benny’s desk. Tiny moved to the seats the guards had just vacated and helped the girl sit down before doing the same.

“Start talking,” Benny bit out.

With a shaky exhale, I told him everything I knew, which wasn’t much at all.

When I was done, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. “So she killed Pauly?”

I nodded.

The girl clasped her hands on her lap.

Benny’s eyes moved to her quickly before returning to me. “So she’s seen you. Seen Tiny and the other men. You come here, and you say my name, and now she knows that, too.”

I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he raised his hand, stopping me.

I cursed under my breath—realizing the mistake I’d made.

Benny leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You know what your dad would do?” he asked.

I shook my head, my eyes narrowing in confusion.

“He’d kill her. She knows too much, and she killed one of our men.”

“My dad wasn’t a killer,” I said, my tone clipped.

Benny chuckled. “Not that you know of,” he mused. “And say you’re right … your father was a Boss,” he said like the term Boss was a form of royalty. “He had an entire army beneath him. An army of killers.”

The girl’s breath caught.

“Do what you have to do,” Benny said, standing up and walking toward his door. “You’re a smart kid, Nate DeLuca.” He punctuated my name, saying it with purpose, using it to fuel the fire—to fuel the need to make sure she didn’t get out alive.

I swallowed my nerves—my anger.

No matter what, I was fucked.

He opened his office door and added, “I don’t understand why she’s still breathing… why the fuck you haven’t done it already. Do you need me to send one of my men with you?”

“No,” I said quickly. So quickly his eyebrows rose in surprise. I added, “I’ll take care of it.”

He nodded.

I stood up. Tiny followed, helping the girl to her feet.

Benny cleared his throat. “I trust you’ll take care of Pauly’s body too?”

It was my turn to nod.

“Good. If anything comes back to us, it’s on you, Nate.”

“Yes, Don.”

*

I drove Tiny’s car while he followed behind me in the van. I gave him instructions on what to do when we got to the cliff on the outskirts of the city. The place I drove to was secluded. There was nothing around—nothing but the river two hundred feet below the cliff’s edge.

I heard the van park next to me, but I kept my head down, focused on attaching the silencer to the pistol. My heart rattled in my chest while my hands shook, making it almost impossible. The van door closed and a moment later, Tiny was tapping on my window. My brow bunched as I lay the gun on my lap and wound it down.

“You sure about this, Boss Man?”

I jerked my head once and wound the window back up. My head tilted to the side—assessing the weapon. One bullet. That’s all I’d need.

I heard the door of the van slide open and Tiny speaking quietly—too quiet for me to make out the words. I listened for a response, but nothing came, only the sounds of their footsteps becoming louder and louder.

Shadows cast over me as Tiny and the girl walked past and approached the cliff edge.

I knew it was time, but I wasn’t ready.

I’d never be ready.

I should’ve taken Uncle Benny up on his offer, had one of his men do it. But it didn’t feel right. Because, clearly, there was a right way to end someone’s life. I shook my head and dropped the visor, looking at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were red. My forehead damp. My jaw pressed tight.

I fought hard to inhale.

Struggled to exhale.

I blinked hard and pushed down the knot in my stomach.

Then, gasping for air, I pushed open my door and stepped out.

One step at a time.

One foot in front of the other.

Toward the girl on her knees, her blindfold still on.

I realized it then; she hadn’t made a sound.

Why wasn’t she screaming or pleading for her life?

I slowed my steps as I approached her, doing everything I could to delay the inevitable. The gun swayed in my hands, my fingers unable to control their trembles.