Back when I was in college in Crestport, I'd heard of Byron Head's fearsome reputation.
On the surface, he was the richest man in Crestport. In reality, he was the one who ran the city's underworld.
He was merciless to his enemies—cross him wrong and he'd have your limbs broken without a second thought. But with his family, he was fiercely devoted. He was famously filial, too. He once spent a billion dollars throwing his mother a birthday banquet, and the whole city talked about it for months.
If the people we'd hit really were Byron Head's family, then the others were in deep, deep trouble.
Crack!
A sharp slap cut through my thoughts.
I looked up to see Kathryn raising her hand again, her face twisted with venom as she struck the blood-covered woman over and over.
"Who the hell do you think you're scaring? Dragging your husband's name into this—I don't care if your husband is Byron Head or Byron Dead, you pissed me off, and I'll slap you as many times as I damn well please!"
The woman spat out a mouthful of blood, then fumbled for her phone and started dialing. "Honey, where are you? Mom and I are hurt. We're at Silkveil Ridge and some people—"
She didn't get to finish. Ivor snatched the phone right out of her hand.
He hurled it at the ground. The screen shattered, pieces scattering across the asphalt. Then he pulled a wad of cash from his bag—ten thousand dollars—and flung it in the woman's face.
"Quit making a scene. You just want money, right? Take the ten grand and get lost."
The woman kicked the scattered bills away from her. She pointed at her car, her eyes burning into Ivor and Kathryn. "Open your eyes and take a good look. You think someone who drives that would shake you down for pocket change?"
"I wasn't even going to make this difficult. All you had to do was take my mother-in-law to the hospital, and I would have let the whole thing go."
"But you didn't just refuse—you decided I was easy prey. You smashed my phone. You slapped me across the face."
"My husband is almost here. You can wait and see what happens next."
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Before the last word left her lips, Kathryn slapped her three times in rapid succession.
"Wait and see, huh? I'll rearrange your face right now. Let's find out what your precious husband can do about it."
I knew what Kathryn and the others were doing was a death wish. I had no intention of going down with them. I rushed forward, grabbed Kathryn's arm mid-swing, and pointed at the old woman lying on the ground, barely breathing.
"Stop hitting her! Drive the old woman to the hospital—if you don't, it'll be too late!"
Kathryn wrenched free of my grip, then drove her foot into my stomach. I hit the ground hard. She jabbed a finger at me and screamed, "Back off, or I'll beat the hell out of you too!"
The blood-covered woman saw me go flying and winced. She tried to help me up with her uninjured hand, her face full of concern. "Sweetheart, thank you—for helping me and my mother-in-law."
Only I knew the truth. I wasn't just helping them. I was helping myself.
I had to draw a clear line between myself and Kathryn's group right in front of this woman. Otherwise, I'd meet the same ugly end they would.
That kick just now—I could have dodged it easily. But I didn't. I let it connect and threw myself backward, tumbling an exaggerated distance across the ground.
All so the blood-covered woman could see, beyond any doubt, that I was not one of them.
"Violet Whitney! Meg Jennings! Hold that little traitor down!" Kathryn barked. "I'm going to teach this mouthy woman a lesson she won't forget."
Her two friends snapped to attention the moment they heard the order, rushing over and pinning my arms behind me.
Kathryn charged at the blood-covered woman and stomped down on her broken hand.
A sickening crack echoed through the air. The woman crumpled, her face draining of what little color it had left. She had to be in agony.
But she didn't make a sound. Not a whimper. Her eyes locked onto Kathryn, burning with silent fury.
Kathryn sneered when she saw the defiance still smoldering in the woman's gaze. She ground her heel into her cheek and snarled, "Had enough yet? Still want your husband to come deal with me?"
Ivor trailed behind, his voice dripping with mockery. "That's what you get for being greedy. We offered you ten grand and you still weren't satisfied. You deserve every hit."
The blood-covered woman pinned beneath Kathryn's foot showed no fear whatsoever. She glared up with bared teeth and snarled, "That leg of yours—my husband will hack it off and feed it to the dogs!"
Kathryn's expression darkened when she saw the woman still had fight in her. She drove her foot straight into the woman's face, cursing as she did. "Cut off my leg? Who the hell does your husband think he is? Today I'm not just beating his wife—I'm kicking his mother too. Let's see what he can do about it!"
With that, she spun around and launched a savage kick at the dying old woman.
"No!" the blood-soaked woman screamed, scrambling to her feet to stop it.
She was too late.
The old woman took the full force of the blow. Her body crumpled sideways, and a gush of bright red blood erupted from her mouth. She collapsed onto the ground and didn't move.
That was when a convoy of vehicles pulled up and lined the emergency lane.
A squad of imposing men in dark suits and sunglasses came sprinting toward us. The one in front—tall, powerfully built—shouted as he ran: "Marianne! Are you and Mom okay?"
