45
I peer around the back of Prince Eddie. The tip of the poker sticks out the other side. "Well look at that," I say. "It went all the way through."
It takes a minute for Prince to stop yelping. His t-shirt stains with blood. I wait for the screaming to quiet to a whimper. He holds onto the poker handle, trembling, bent over the desk.
"The antichrist, my arse," I say, lowering my voice and leaning in close to his ear. "Who's heading up the operation? I know it's not you. You're not bloody capable."
"You don't know who you're going after," he says, voice breaking. "They're rabid dogs. They'll tear you to f*****g pieces."
"Then it's in your interests to tell me, isn't it?"
Prince doesn't crack.
I hear feet running into the room. It's Marla, Prince's wife. White satin dressing gown an
