Ray struggled to get to his feet, both of his arms hanging at his sides. Crying through the pain, he heard the quick crunch of footsteps racing through the snow.
He turned his head to see Nick, service pistol drawn.
“What in the holy f**k?” Nick said, shivering in the blizzard without a coat.
Ray looked over at what was left of the two men, a grotesque tableau of red stains in the snow.
It was over. He was free from these men who had manipulated him. Free from the meaningless tattoo buried in a blackened crust of charred skin.
“You’re not... supposed... to be here,” Ray said, breathing labored.
“I thought Boom-Boom was double-crossing us,” Nick said, going to help Ray.
Ray stopped him in his tracks, lifting his burnt arm. Nothing was keeping the muscle from being exposed to the air
