Scarred heart

4

“I’ll just be on my way! I didn’t mean to shoot! I forgot I even had it on me,” Leo kept squealing like a piglet that knew its time for slaughter had come.

Martina was already speaking to the emergency services on the phone, but due to the drunken slur in her voice she had to repeat herself and got more frustrated by the second. Davy’s face, twisted in pain, and red behind the white beard, dominated Scar’s thoughts.

Davy was like an uncle to him. It was him who’d taught Scar survival skills and the enjoyment of camping out in nature. And now he was down because of an i***t who did not respect the rules of his hosts.

Scar grabbed the fallen gun and pulled up Leo with a single upward tug. The fucker’s confidence melted away, replaced by a fear so intense he was shuddering and barely able to stand upright. To think that someone this pathetic was the source of Davy’s pain was an insult on its own. Scar’s eyes met King’s. Wordless understanding passed between them, and King nodded, giving Scar permission to deal with Leo as he saw fit.

“Prospect,” yelled Scar, already forcing Leo away from the circle of people formed around the wounded club member. “Who’s the p***y now?” Scar hissed into the man’s ear when he noticed tears streaming down the guy’s face.

Jake, their prospect, was already on Scar’s toes, following him like Hound did on their walks.

“What do you need me to do?” Jake asked, his blue eyes wide, the young, still boyish face flushed. He used to play football in high school, and he now looked as excited as if he scored a touchdown.

“Come with me,” Scar said and pulled back Leo’s arms, forcing the bastard to walk in a bent-over position. His heart was breaking for Davy. Scar of all people knew the value of good health, and he hated thinking of all the things their VP would have to go through when he was so close to retiring.

Jake ran ahead and opened the double doors leading to private quarters where only club members were allowed. The light went on, blinking in yet another testament to the building’s deteriorating state. It was likely the dampness that caused constant problems with electricity, but the falling ceiling was the last straw.

Leo was guilty of pulling out a gun in their clubhouse, on a senior club member at that, but consequences wouldn’t have been so dire if this building wasn’t slowly turning into a death trap. Scar had been suggesting a change for a while now, but after tonight, everyone would finally see how urgently they needed to either renovate the old building or move.

As they approached the room where Hound had been locked for the time of the party, the barking grew louder, drilling into the anxiety centers in Scar’s brain. It was likely Hound sensed the chaos and was frightened of all the noise, but he still needed to check up on his dog.

“Prospect, the cellar,” he said, easily subduing their prisoner, who didn’t even attempt to twist away, shuddering like a frightened rabbit. It was too late for apologies or mercy.

Jake gave the man a long look full of pity. He needed to get over that if he wanted to become a patched member one day. The way to the cellar was a maze through disused rooms where rubble and old furniture lay covered in dust. Jake had to pull away a medical cabinet on wheels to access the hidden door.

“Please, I don’t swing that way. I mean— no offense! I was too drunk!”

Looked like he was sober now. Good.

Scar pushed the fucker forward, sending him into a tumble down the old stairs. The sound of the body hitting steps and finally the floor farther down did nothing to relieve Scar’s anger. Nothing could make this better. “You were a guest here. We can’t tolerate this. You don’t get to hurt our VP and walk away,” he said, switching on the single light bulb, which illuminated the small empty space that smelled of mold and rat droppings. He was down in the cellar within three long steps.

Leo gave Scar a nervous smile as he tried to pick himself up from the floor, only for Scar’s boot to help him down. “I— I could swing that way if it… helps,” he finished in a trembly whisper.

Scar sneered, mildly disgusted. “No,” he said and grabbed Leo’s collar, pulling him all the way up. A quick punch sent Leo stumbling to the floor with a shocked yelp, but Scar was not done.

Over and over, he made the fucker stand, and no matter how Leo crawled away or flinched, Scar’s fists did their duty, slowly turning Leo’s face into bloodied tenderized meat. Jake watched on, completely silent as Scar kneeled next to Leo, who stayed down after the last punch, seemingly unable to pick himself up anymore.