Noah brought Fia out and was about to speak when Georgie pulled out his gun.
His mind immediately went to Fia, who was right in front of him. He pushed her into the bush by the stairs.
Before he could aim his gun, Georgie's magnum rang out and the bullet tore through his belly. Isabel screamed, fighting to get away from Georgie, but he whipped his gun across her forehead. Her body fell to the ground.
Noah watched, hand stuffed into the wound. He fell down the stairs, gasping in pain. Dalton ran over to him and took his gun, throwing it across the front yard. Pierre's house was built on a hill and a bit far from the city.
A luxury that made things like this possible. Dalton dragged his dying body up and stuffed some gauze into his injuries.
"Don't die yet, Noah," Dalton whispered. "Sorry, had to give you up. But don't worry, I'll think about you when I'm rich."
"Enough, get the pliers," Georgie sighed, walking over to Noah to look him in the eyes. "You know how this works, you've done it before. I'll use the pliers to take off your fingernails, then we'll pull out the clamps and break your fingers one by one—"
"Then you'll kneecap me and use the spoon," Noah said breathlessly, staring Georgie in the eyes. His green eyes seemed unbothered by the carnage that awaited him. "It's only karma that comes back to me. How will you kill me? Curb stomp so the cops and the other gangs know it was you?"
Georgie chuckled and took the pliers from Isaac.
"I always liked you. Now tell me where the deeds are."
———
After a couple of minutes of torture, it became clear that Noah wouldn't tell them anything. He had already burned the papers, so they were wasting their time. But he still needed to kill Georgie.
But the torture left it's mark.
One of the brilliant green eyes that his mother always told him she loved was gone, sitting on a silver spoon on the ground. Beside it were the rest of his fingernails and a bloody hammer.
The problem with torture is that if they don't tell you what you want to know after you pull out the first fingernail, then they won't tell you after you've pulled out the fifth.
Thankfully, they hadn't kneecapped him yet though, and they only used the hammer on his left hand, which was already useless.
Isabel watched the whole time, sobbing and begging despite how many times they hit her. He felt kind of bad for her, considering she was technically his first friend and the person he lost his virginity to.
Hopefully, after he killed Georgie, she would live, but he doubted it. They both lived lives that profited off people's suffering, so it wasn't really all that sad in the end. He was disappointing Georgie though.
"You're really not going to say a thing, Noah?" Georgie said, trying to hide his disbelief with a smile.
He shrugged at the question, eyes running over the wide front yard, the cars parked in front of the tall white house in the background, and the desolate hill that Pierre chose to build a house on.
"Just kill me."
Georgie smiled, then waved behind him. Dalton dragged Isabel forward, her knees scraping over the gravel.
"I could, but I still want to make sure you suffer. But I will let you live if Isabel drinks this."
Georgie held up a vial of purple liquid that sent a chill down Noah's spine.
"Cobra venom. Hemotoxic—or at least that's what I was told. You've used this before, right, Noah? If Isabel drinks this, then I'll let you live, but if you tell me where the deeds are, I'll kill you and let her live."
Noah sighed. Georgie always knew how to push people's buttons; he stood over Isabel, a wide smile on his round face.
"Frankie's car wash. Under the floorboards in the break room," he lied.
Georgie nodded, smiling, before he grabbed Isabel's mouth and forced the poison down her throat. Noah felt his heart stop, his eyes widening.
He let Isabel's body fall to the ground and pulled out his magnum to end Noah, who kept thinking about his original plan.
He was going to use the gun he hid in the bush as a last resort when they were going to curb stomp him on these steps. At the very least, he expected he could get one shot at Georgie.
But his body was too weak to even move right now. His shooting hand was gone, and he could only see out of one eye. He closed his eyes and waited for the shot.
There was no heaven waiting for him. But he hoped his parents, and Isabel, did find paradise.
BANG!
He waited for the bullet but never felt the pain. Maybe this was what a headshot felt like.
But he was still hearing voices and breathing. He opened his eyes.
Georgie was on the floor, eyes wide in death, blood pooling beneath his head. Dalton was alive, staring beside Noah in disbelief. He followed the rat's eyes and his jaw dropped slightly.
Fia had taken her father's gun from the bush, the gun he left there to use on Georgie, and she used it instead. How she freed herself wasn't on his mind; rather, why she shot Georgie was what baffled him.
She looked into his eyes, shaking like a leaf. The gun looked too heavy in her little hands.
"He… he was going t-to shoot me to kill you. He broke the deal."
Noah laughed aloud. The pain of his bullet wound ripped through him, but he didn't care.
"You never make a deal you can't keep," he repeated.
Dalton turned between both of them, realizing the danger. He turned back to his riot shield on the jeep's hood and ran.
Fia pointed the gun at him but couldn't shoot, tears blinding her. Noah took the gun and shot just before Dalton could grab his shield, splattering his blood over the jeep.
He dropped the gun and crawled over to Isabel, Fia watching him carefully. He took her head into his arms. Her eyes were red, blood pouring from them like tears, her voice rattled from her lungs with torturous labor.
"Live… live a long life, Noah. We'll meet again." She smiled strangely, like she wasn't afraid of dying at all.
She died before Noah could tell her he would be following her shortly. Instead, he turned to Fia, the next one.
"Take care of yourself. You're the boss now," Noah said before dying.
——
Death was peaceful and comfortable. He should have died a long time ago. He drifted into the quiet darkness, finally at peace.
"No."
Voices interrupted his peace, a chaotic symphony that made the dark tremble. He had no body to move, simply slotted in the darkness like a peg. But he turned slightly.
"Not yet, not when you can cleanse them from this world. Become our avatar."
His eyes snapped open in a grey, degraded room with a single light swinging over his head. He was alive again, filled with heat and pain.
Why am I so close to the roof?
Then he felt the rope around his neck tightening and his throat burning.
He was being hanged. Or rather… he looked down at the chair below his feet.
I'm hanging myself? There's no way I'm this brave.
He considered letting himself just die again, but memories flashed through his mind. Memories that weren't his but also were.
A life he hadn't lived but was fully his. In this life, his father never got addicted, never lost his job, never killed himself.
He kicked against the wall in front of him and grabbed the rope. His eye trembled; there was no way those memories were real.
He told himself this was a dream, that he was already dead. But there was a mad longing surging in his belly; he wanted to see his parents again.
After an agonizing climb against the wall with his weak body, he reached up and unhooked the rope from the roof.
This meant he had nothing holding him up, so he fell to the ground, back slamming against the wooden chair beneath him. The pain blinded him for a couple of moments, but for some reason, it faded quickly.
Immediately, someone burst through the door of the room. It was a short, bald man with a skinny frame and brown teeth, wearing a baggy black jacket and trousers. He knew the ratty face and beady black eyes.
Dalton.
"I killed you?" Noah rasped.
"Fucking junkie," Dalton hissed, walking over and dragging Noah's weak body up. "Did you really try to kill yourself?"
Dalton slapped him roughly, insulting him with a breath that reeked of alcohol.
"We'd just pass the debt to your family. Maybe I can have a toss with that sister of yours? Haha."
Strength surged through him. He pushed Dalton's scrawny arms away and grabbed his throat, fingers digging into the skin. Noah's face twisted up, green eyes filled with rage.
"Rat bastard, it's a great pleasure to kill you twice."
Dalton opened his mouth to scream, but Noah's hands were so cold, like a corpse's, and he was rapidly losing strength and warmth. He pushed Noah, but his already weak hands grew weaker.
On the other hand, Noah felt more alive than ever, fire pumping through his hands and into his body. His heart kept pounding, the realization dawning on him.
I'm stealing Dalton's life?
Before he could come to terms with what was happening, his body fell and Dalton was released, stumbling over to the bed as Noah crashed to the ground.
"What the hell," Dalton whispered weakly. "What did he do to me?"
His voice froze as something rose from Noah's body. It was a double of him, wearing the same stained white shirt and trousers, but its head was a bonfire of black flames. His voice rumbled from the black flames.
"This is new."