Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“So, Levi and I had just finished up and we were cleaning our guns and putting them away, but Roman had just finished his own training and he was being a fucking asshole. He was always like that. I kinda hated the guy. He expected so much out of us. He wanted us to always be better, to do better. Our capabilities were never good enough for him, but now as an adult looking back, I see it for what it was,” he says, pausing for a beat as he gets way off track. “Roman wanted us to be the best because anything less wouldn’t be good enough for our father, and when you’re not good enough, you’re as good as dead. He saw what we were too young and naive to understand. I guess the asshole was protecting us even back then.”
“Ah, the noble gentleman as always,” I laugh, still thinking about the bullet hole in Roman's ass.
“Anyway,” he continues, “we were putting all our shit back and Roman came in to tell us that the shots we’d taken weren’t good enough, and he was right, they were shit. But back then, I couldn’t control myself, still can’t sometimes. It sent me into a rage and I just lost control and pulled the fucking trigger.”
I let out a sharp gasp as he takes his little stroll down memory lane, laughing to himself about the fond times he had growing up. “The bullet lodged straight into his ass and the fucker screamed like a little bitch. My father had my fucking balls for it, but it was worth it to see that prick sitting on one of those blow-up donuts for the next few months.”
I gape up at him as we finally pass by the last prisoner and move into the state-of-the-art shooting area the boys have built down here. “So, he just let you get away with it?” I ask as my gaze sweeps over the array of guns and targets, most of them done up with a picture of their father’s face stapled to them.
Marcus laughs and pulls up the side of his shirt to show me a faded scar hidden within the beautiful lines of his tattoo. “Nah, the asshole took my kidney for that one a few years later then sold it on the black market for his first car, but I can’t blame him, that car was nice. One of a fucking kind.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe, my eyes wide. “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that I never had a sibling.”
“Happy?” he questions. “Why the hell would you be happy about not having a sibling? That was a good, brotherly-bonding story. I got away with shooting him in the ass and he got to take a kidney. It’s a win-win situation. Didn’t you hear the part about the car? One. Of. A. Kind.”
I shake my head, unable to comprehend just how far gone he truly is. “You know, every time I start to convince myself that you’re just like the rest of us, you go and prove to me just how wrong I really am.”
His brows furrow as he takes a gun, looking it over before glancing back at me. “What’s that supposed to mean? How else are brothers supposed to show affection and bond?”
“Ever heard of football or video games?” I laugh, nervously taking the gun he hands me and looking down at it like it could strike me at any time. “I mean, I don’t have a brother, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it’s supposed to go.”
Marcus scoffs and comes to stand right behind me, adjusting my posture and turning me to face the target at the end of the lane. “I’d rather burn in hell with all the assholes I’ve sent down there,” he tells me. “Now focus. You know the basics, but in our line of work, you can’t afford to miss. Speed and precision are crucial.”
Over the next few hours, Marcus takes me over everything I need to know, and while I’m far from perfect and still have many hours to log down here, I can confidently use a gun. Though, whether I’d actually be able to aim it at another human being is a whole other hurdle I will have to fight through.
Three hours turn into four and when my arms are aching so bad that I can no longer pull the trigger, he finally eases up on me. It leaves me wondering what a training session with their father would have been like. Marcus is going easy on me now, but to get to the elite level they’re on, their training would have been brutal, consistent, and terrifying; something no kid should ever have to endure.
We start packing everything away, and after the long walk back out of here, we finally break into the warm afternoon sun. Marcus can’t help but glance around like a soldier, making sure we’re not about to get shot from afar, but all we see are the Dill Doe twins racing out in the distance, weaving in and out of the big trees at the start of the thick woods.