I dip my chin, though I’m dying to unleash. But rules are rules, and when it comes to Sean’s own recruits, it’s his call. Sean kneels in front of Clint, casually draping the gun on his thigh. “You thought we wouldn’t find out, Clint? Is that what you thought?”
Clint—already on the verge of sobbing—speaks up, “I j-just n-needed—”
“Oh, I know what you needed,” Sean snaps. “It’s one thing to poison yourself to the point you got cut out of secrets. It’s another entirely to spread that poison.” Sean leans in. “Think we wouldn’t pinpoint how Fatty got pinched and printed? Did you think we would kick him out and leave it there? You yourself should know that we don’t half-ass anything. That’s how we keep our secrets.”
Sean pulls a prescription bottle from his pocket and shakes it in front of Clint’s face. “You know what that sound is, Dom?”
“What’s that?”
Sean obnoxiously shakes the bottle in a taunt. “That’s a junkie’s mating call.”
Spittle runs from Clint’s mouth as he speaks. “I’ll get clean. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Hear that, Dom?” Sean snaps with disgust. “He’ll do whatever we want. His girlfriend OD’s three weeks ago and barely survives, but this is his wake-up call.” Sean uncaps the bottle before balancing the small pill on the tip of his finger, and Clint’s eyes follow. “You got hooked and poisoned everyone around you. But then you lost your spot with us and your respect. No bird wanted to deal with you or let you in on their secrets, so you took it upon yourself to sell Fatty out to steal from your own . . . I’m going to give you one fucking chance to confirm what I already know.”
Clint nods and sniffs. “Fatty and I were smoking a spliff at his place a few days before,” his expression falters, as do his words, as the fear of his confession eats at him.
Sean dips his chin as Clint sputters out the rest.
“I-I-spotted one of the vans at his place. It was under a tarp, but I knew what was going down because I’d done the service calls in the past, and I’d been trying to get in on it . . .” he harshly exhales, closing his eyes as Sean presses the Glock to his forehead.
“And?”
“No one would let me ride passenger, so I scoped Fatty’s house waiting on him to leave. I wasn’t going to take it all, just a little off the top . . . I swear.”
Sean shoots him a withering stare, fed up with his hesitation.
“But h-he wouldn’t leave the van, so I got him distracted . . . I-I knew the girl and offered her some money, but I didn’t know she would get popped that night . . .,” he shakes his head, “that was pure fucking coincidence. I didn’t mean for him to get picked up. I was trying to buy time to get some merch to sell. You’ve got to believe me, man. I wouldn’t—”
Sean presses the Glock in harder so Clint’s head is forced back a few inches. “You fucking did. And Fatty lost his chance at getting inked in the process. That’s so fucking cold, man. Must’ve stung when you found the van empty. You cost us a decent bird with that bullshit.”
Sean sighs, looking over at me as Clint sputters more meaningless apologies.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Sean.”
“The saddest part is—that knowing how we work—you thought you might get away with it.” Sean nods toward me, and I grip Clint’s head as Sean forces him to take a pill.
Clint gasps before Sean clamps his mouth closed, uncapping a water and forcing Clint to drink and swallow. Sean taps out another pill, and Clint fearfully eyes the bottle. As Sean moves in, Clint holds up his bound wrists in a useless attempt to protect himself.
“S-Sean, please. I can’t.”
“What? Don’t like OXY anymore? Isn’t this what you were going to steal from your brothers for?”
Clint looks up at Sean, his expression pathetic. “Sean—”
“Stop saying my fucking name. You think I don’t know the psychology in that? You think it’s going to change my mind? Make me think twice?”
Sean exhales slowly in disappointment. “I know you’re flesh and bone. I know you consist of heart and soul. But yours went in the wrong direction. It’s way too late to plead your case. Open up.” Sean force-feeds Clint another pill and caps the bottle before standing and lighting a cigarette. Snapping his Zippo closed, he runs his thumb along his lower lip as he weighs his next words.
“Goddamnit, man. I don’t fucking enjoy this, Clint. None of us do, but your junkie judgment had you ignoring one of the most important fucking rules and betraying the promise inked on your skin, and we can’t let that go. You know that.”
He drags off his smoke, posture resigned. “This is so much more important than me or you—than any of us. I took you under my wing. I gave you everything I had, and you do me like this? The rules are simple. No drugs, no guns, and no innocents. We don’t buy, trade, or sell people, and we sure as fuck don’t sell out our own, but you were willing to barter your own brother to get a fucking fix.”
Clint shakes his head in denial as I approach from behind and cock my own gun, pressing it to the back of his greasy head. “I wonder if anyone will miss him.”
Clint screams in protest. “Wait! Wait!”
Sean looks over to me. “Should we wait, Dom? He’s already picked his poison, haven’t you, Clint? Over yourself, over the people you love, over your fucking brothers.”
Clint attempts to hang his head, and Sean fists his hair, forcing his gaze back up. “No, man. Nobody gets to fuck me with their eyes closed.”
“Sean, I’ll fix this. I’ll get better.”
Sean’s eyes deaden, and I know playtime is over when he speaks up. “It’s funny that you’re pleading with me. And I get it,” he gestures toward me. “Dom looks like a menacing motherfucker, but me? I paint a different picture and mostly represent it until you fuck with what matters to me most and well . . .” Sean tosses his cigarette down and grinds it out with his boot before uncapping the bottle and palming another pill, his expression lethal, “。 . . this is where I start looking scary.”
Clint opens his mouth with a soundless gasp, spittle running down the sides before Sean forces another pill into his mouth. Clint spits it out, choking out his pleas. “F-fuck man, p-please. You know me.”
“Thought I did,” Sean says, tilting his head. “Are you even salvageable, Clint? I guess that’s the question being posed now, right? Good from bad, right or wrong. Are you the bad guy, or am I? Maybe I’m both. But I’m the one who brought you in, and therefore you are my responsibility. Clearly, my judgment was skewed, and your fucking memory is lacking because you forgot that when you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. Time’s up.”
Clint’s eyes widen in horror as Tyler pulls up in his car and exits, dressed like midnight, ball cap pulled low. Tightening black gloves on his fingers, Tyler takes a spot next to me as Sean shakes the bottle in front of Clint’s face to regain his attention.
“How many is too many?” He leers at Clint. “Should we play roulette with your life the way you did with my club? Wouldn’t want you to miss your fix, open up.” Sean shoves the pill in Clint’s mouth, and Clint again spits it out as he sputters useless apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”