He just spit his fucking chew into the grave.
Before I could process the scene, I started to charge forward, wearing a suit and tie, my hair washed, slicked back. I heard someone shout my name. I turned my head enough to see Aton waving his hands at me. He pointed to a black limo. We were all going to go to a family restaurant to eat and celebrate Shane’s life. I’d end up puking drunk, crying in the bathroom. But before that…
I thought about pushing the guy into the grave. Instead, the urge to fight washed over me. Like a drug addict needing that high, my fists needed to do their job.
I grabbed the guy by the shoulder and spun him around.
“Hey,” he growled.
I threw a fist at his cheek. His mouth exploded with all the chew. It splashed from his mouth like mud. It hit my white undershirt, hit my chin. It smelled like wet, tough mint. I didn’t give a shit.
“You fucking just spit in his grave.”
The guy held his cheek.
I could tell he was scared.
But I didn’t care about that.
I unleashed on him. A left, right combo, over and over, until I knocked him out. The shovel fell into the grave and hit the casket with a thud. I looked down and saw Shane in the ground.
“Hey! Asshole!”
It was the other guy.
He came charging at me and I dropped him with two punches.
And there I stood, next to my brother’s open grave, two men on the ground, knocked out. My knuckles were sore, bleeding. Rage flooded my body. When I looked up from the destruction, I saw Aton staring at me. He slowly put a cigar into his mouth and nodded.
That was the moment Shane passed it all to me.
I then became Aton’s top fighter.
I swore to myself - and to Shane - I would find out who the Assassin was and I would kill him…
~
I stared at Rose. She kept saying my name over and over. The room was a blur as my mind spun. I stepped back, once, twice, keeping my hands out. I’d never hurt a woman, ever. I’d never raise my hand to a woman. I’d never attack a woman with my words either. That wasn’t me. That wasn’t in my heart, no matter what.
Yet when I regained focus and looked at Rose, I felt like snapping.
“Wes, listen to me,” she said. “I didn’t know. Until you said something in the kitchen. Okay? And I told you…”
I pointed at her. “Your brother killed my brother. In cold fucking blood.”
“Wes, it was a fight.”
“No it wasn’t!” I yelled. “It was an attack! I watched it happen. He took Shane down and then kept going. And nobody stopped it. He kept hitting Shane. Slamming Shane’s head off the concrete floor. The sound of thuds, over and over. Then everything was quiet. Completely quiet. There were guys who started to throw up when they realized what they just witnessed.”
“I am so sorry, Wes,” Rose said. “I had nothing to do with it. Luke lost his mind. He had this urge… he hasn’t fought since then. My father pulled him out of it all. Then Dad died a little while after. If I knew… if I knew you…”
“And people are after you,” I said. “Someone wants you dead. Fuck, Aton wants you dead. And I helped you because I didn’t think it was possible a woman as beautiful as you could be in any kind of trouble.”
“I am in serious trouble,” Rose said, her eyes glistening. “What do you think he’s going to do to me?”
“Your brother?” I asked.
She nodded. “He hurts me. He hits me, Wes. He’s going to kill me someday.”
I froze, gritting my teeth. What was I supposed to do? Show compassion to this woman? Her fucking brother used his bare hands to kill my brother. The only thing she could do to make it right was…
“Then let me kill him,” I said.
“Luke? Are you kidding me?”
“I want to kill him.”
“No,” Rose said. “You don’t know how powerful he is.”
“Then I have nothing else to say to you.”
I turned and walked away. If it wasn’t dark outside, I would have thrown Rose from the cabin. I went outside and stood at the railing of the deck. I grew up with Shane by my side. Our mother preaching to us about heaven and hell. Preaching about right and wrong. Dragging our ass to church on Sunday where an old priest would talk of sinners and saints. He’d talk to Mom and then pat mine and Shane’s heads, telling us we could have passed for twins. Shane was an inch taller than me and I eventually grew my hair out while he kept his short. The old man never came to church. His religion was beer and football. And if something didn’t go right, he swung his belt like it was nothing. He beat up Mom on a regular basis. That’s when I gave up on heaven and hell and sinners and saints. It was about fighting to live.
“Wes, let me talk to you.”
“I’ll say what I said before, sweetie,” I said without looking back. “Go away. Go the fuck away. You want nothing to do with me, trust me. Whether you like it or not I am going to find your brother and kill him.”
I waited to hear something from her. Some kind of cheap plea.
I looked back, almost wanting to see her pretty face one more time. But she was gone. She actually listened to me.