Luke yanks me closer, his mouth pressing close to my ear. “It’s just a test. The gun isn’t loaded.”
He shoves me at the door, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
We park in an abandoned driveway. It’s further down the street from the house Leander pointed out as the one we’d be visiting. There’s another vehicle parked in front of us, a plain black Mazda that looks like most other cars on the road. Average and indistinguishable.
Leander instructed me earlier on the gang I’m about to get involved with. Or join if I satisfactorily pass the initiation. They’re named the King Street Boys. And they’re not just some minor-league street gang, they’re the biggest gang in Melbourne. The structure rivals a corporation. The hierarchy is extensive and has tentacles that wrap around the entire state including government members, political staff, and police. Leander tells me their reach is so vast they’re expanding into Sydney and beyond.
Two burly guys alight from either side of the Mazda. After shutting their doors with mutual muted thunks, they walk toward us. Leander showed me photos so I recognise both. Ross is tall and bulky. His hair is short and golden brown with a slight curl, and his eyes a cold, hard blue. He’s twisting a ring that sits on the middle finger of his right hand. The action highlights the thick muscle of his forearm and a singular tattoo of three letters ‘KSB.’ He’s the gang leader.
My eyes slide to Leander with surprise. I’m expecting to be nothing less than a lowly foot soldier, so why would that attract the likes of Ross? Leander doesn’t acknowledge my fleeting glance. His face remains blank. I pick up his silent cue and remove the expression of surprise from my face.
The guy beside him is Boyd, head of security and recruitment. His black hair is buzzed so short it’s barely there at all, and eyes darker than night are busy taking me in without giving a single thought away.
They stop in front of us. Ross tips his head at me. “You’re Jonah?”
His voice is rough, like he smokes a thousand cigarettes a day, but there’s also a hint of surprise in it. I nod. The name change is for protection. Gang life gets dirty. I don’t want any of this to come back on me later, or anyone I care about.
“You’re how old now?”
I lift my chin, trying to hide the nerves. “Sixteen.”
Ross doesn’t appear displeased at my youth and continues to study me carefully. “You’re a big boy for sixteen.”
Bigger than both of them if they want to get technical. I shrug like it’s no big deal but to me it is. Having a size advantage gives me confidence I wouldn’t ordinarily feel otherwise. “I work out a lot.”
“Eh … Good for you.”
Boyd takes a slight step forward and his head tips a little to the side as he looks at me. “Why do you want in with the King Street Boys?”
Money, for fuck’s sake. Why would anyone want to join a gang unless it was lucrative? But gang members are brothers just like bikers are, aren’t they? A unit. Mess with one, you mess with all. I could have had that once, with the Valentines, and I didn’t take it. The knowledge is painful.
“Family,” I lie, knowing it’s what they probably want to hear.
Boyd nods as though he understands. “You in the system?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. The system is fucking useless.”
We’re in agreement on that. The system only gave me one thing. Mackenzie Valentine. And now I don’t have her anymore.
Ross clamps a hand on my shoulder. The gesture is firm and brotherly but his voice is hard and does not allow disagreement or invite further conversation. “We’re your family now.”
He lets go and Boyd looks between Leander and myself. “You both good to go?”
Leander answers with a lift of his shirt. It bares the gun tucked in his waistband. Mine is on the passenger-side floor of the car. That’s where I’m hoping like hell it ends up staying.
Boyd’s forehead wrinkles. “Where’s yours?”
My lips press in a grim line, and I tuck unsteady hands inside the pockets of my jeans. Shit is getting real and my legs are five seconds away from hauling me the fuck out of here.
“You leave it in the car?” Leander asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, as if it was an accident.
“I’ll get it,” he tells me and makes a move to leave. Boyd slaps the back of his forearm against Leander’s chest, stopping him from going anywhere. After a shared glance with Ross, he says, “I’ll get it.”
Boyd walks away and Ross turns his attention to me with a fold of his arms. “Jonah, you ready for this?”
Not in the least. “I don’t know what this is.”
Ross points to a red brick house further down the street. It’s nondescript—the type of house you’d never pick out from a line up two days later. “The man in that house is the worst kind of scum. A convicted paedophile. Instead of being locked up, he’s out here stealing our drugs and watching Boyd’s youngest sister from outside the school gates. We’re here to deliver him one hell of a warning.”
Disgust makes my stomach churn. Paedophiles should never be free, let alone allowed anywhere near the gates of a school. It explains why both Ross and Boyd are both here tonight instead of someone lower in the hierarchy. This is personal.
Boyd returns, gun in hand. He hands it to me, his dark brown eyes staring me down until I take it.
“What kind of warning?” I ask Ross, the weapon a heavy weight in my hand.
“The kind where we go in and rough him up, tie him to a chair, and you come in after and shoot him.”
I jerk visibly. Shoot him? I don’t think so. I don’t shoot people, regardless of their criminal past. You can’t just take justice into your own hands. My eyes shift to Leander, needing to assess his reaction.
“You can do this,” he reassures me in a firm voice as Ross and Boyd start toward the house.
But I can’t.
“It’s just a test. The gun isn’t loaded.”
Is Luke telling the truth?
If he is, then it means this whole scene is a setup. The man in the house must be a gang member and not who they say he is. And this so-called test is for me to shoot him. If the gun isn’t loaded, they’ll hear the click and that will be my passing grade—an acknowledgement that I’d been willing to do as they asked. Once over, my place in the King Street Boys will be cemented.
But fifteen minutes later, I realise there’s an issue with my thought process as I stand in front of the man. Neither Ross nor Boyd told me his name, but he’s roughed up and tied to a chair like I was told he would be. Silver duct tape covers his mouth and his eyes are bugged out like a goldfish. His breathing is out of control. He doesn’t look like a man who knows he isn’t about to get shot. He looks like a man who knows he is.
“It’s just a test.”
Ross gives the order to shoot, his voice coming to me like I’m under water. I lift the gun, the move slow and painful. My heart thumps hard enough to pound its way from my chest as I look into the man’s eyes. The fear in them is a living, breathing thing between us. Wild, like an untamed animal. I turn my head to Leander. He gives me a nod. Do it, his eyes say.