room. Steele waited until Junk’s voice was dying down and the man was attempting to crawl toward the door before he caught him by the hair and lifted him back to his knees.
“I asked you a question, Junk.” As always, Steele’s voice was low. Mild. In complete contrast to the steady, wicked blows he’d visited on Bridges and the kick to Junk’s shoulder. “You watched your father beat your sister up, didn’t you?”
Junk nodded. “Yes. Yes, I watched,” he said, desperation in the pitch of his voice.
“What were you doing while your father punched and kicked your sister?”
Junk’s eyes widened in terror. He began shaking his head wildly. “I kept the boy safe. I held the boy.”
“How were you holding my son, Junk? Like this?”
Steele released the vicious grip he had on Junk’s hair and walked behind him. Junk fell forward to his hands and knees. Again, he let out an agonized scream as his hand touched the floor, jarring his shoulder. Steele caught him from behind, wrapping his hand around his nose and mouth, his arm around his neck, cutting off all air.
“Is this what you did to my son, Junk?” Steele asked in the same mild tone. “Bridges? You recognize this hold? You teach him this is what you do to your own flesh and blood?”
He ignored Junk’s wild thrashing, keeping his eyes on Bridges. His hands never wavered. He had completely cut off Junk’s air supply. His enormous strength allowed him to hold the man there while he stared at Bridges.
Bridges shook his head and tried to get up. He was too broken and fell back down, but he didn’t look away. “Let him go,” he ordered hoarsely.
“It’s not going to happen, Bridges,” Steele said. “I don’t feel in the least bit sympathetic. Not at all. The two of you hurt Breezy. Not just physically, but with the things you did to her. You would have sold my boy or killed him. Same with her. This piece of shit doesn’t deserve to live and neither do you. The problem you have, isn’t how you’re going to die, it’s when you’re going to die. Because both of you are going to die right here, today.”
His tone suggested a conversation, nothing more, nothing controversial. He was merely explaining facts to Bridges. He waited until Junk quit fighting and went limp before he released him. Junk fell forward onto his face, gasping, wheezing and choking. Steele walked around him and then kicked him hard in the ribs. Junk shrieked.
“It isn’t over for you, Junk,” Steele said. “You made her suffer. Both of you. I’m not okay with that.” He looked at Bridges. “Did you think I would be? Did you really think I wouldn’t come after you?”
Bridges tried to spit. Blood and spittle trickled down his chin. “Thought I could get her to kill you.”
“You were wrong. Breezy’s got more loyalty in her than the entire Swords chapter you belonged to. You chose your son because he was male. He’s weak.”
Very casually, Steele walked right up to Bridges and started on him a second time, beating him, this time attacking his internal organs. He was thorough and systematic.
“You’re going to get tired a hell of a long time before I am,” Steele said.
A few minutes later, he left Bridges sobbing on the floor and started back over to Junk. Savage appeared in the frame of the broken door. “Thought I’d join the main event. The house is cleared. All cameras are removed, inside and out of the house.”
Savage walked right up to Bridges who was moaning and writhing on the floor. “Nice to see you again, Bridges,” Savage said.
He crouched down beside him, caught him by his hair and turned his head to face him. “Steele was nice enough to allow me to join the party. He doesn’t mind beating the shit the out of you, but he can take it or leave it. Me? I love that fucking shit. I love to hurt bullshit men like you. Pussies. Crybabies. You kidnap little kids and sell them to perverts and you rape and beat young girls. I take that into consideration when I’m planning the proper retaliation. I like to see you suffer. It gets me off, you know. I’m already high as a kite from hackin’ Obe in the other room to pieces.” He took out his knife and slowly, one by one flicked the buttons off the shirt Bridges was wearing. “Hold still. This blade is sharp. Wouldn’t