Scarface shivered violently, the cold wind of the river mixing with the icy terror settling in his gut. He realized the man in front of him wasn't just talking; the killing intent was real. He scrambled backward, screaming at his subordinates like a cornered rat.
"What the hell are you all standing there for?! Are you waiting for him to buy you dinner?" Scarface roared, his voice cracking. "Kill him! Beat him to death with your sticks! Do it now!"
The thugs, jolted out of their shock by their leader's command, exchanged glances. The mob mentality took over. They gripped their machetes and steel pipes tighter, letting out primal yells to psych themselves up, and charged at Jack Brooks like a pack of rabid hyenas.
"Idiots!"
Claire Lynch, seeing this scene unfolding from the ledge, slowly
