Welcome to the Shit Show

Part 8

The thick tension hanging in the air would have suffocated me, if I had any energy to give a fuck, that is. I didn't care about the people watching, their opinions were moot right now. All that mattered right now was trying to crawl out of the grave I had been digging for myself since I first met Felix.

I dialed down the defiance as I asked. "And what if I need to kill someone and you aren't around or you're dead and I can't ask?" I knew I was dancing in dangerous waters, but it was a fair question.

"Then you can ask Kline. Alright?" I could see the vulgar fingers of irritation digging under his skin. He didn't want to give me an inch, that much was certain, but he couldn't exactly throttle me in front of Sy and then expect to get lucky. For now, I had the upper hand. I needed to use it quickly before he realized just how powerless we really were.

"Fine by me." I flashed a small disarming smile. The room was

"Good," he turned away like he had finally won.

"You have no idea what they're like," it came out soft. It took a second to realize I had been the one to say it. He turned back around sharply but his expression now was hostile bordered with confusion.

"The McCoys," I clarified, looking up into his eyes to make sure he understood the weight of what I was saying to him. "They're murderers, liars, and thieves. They tried to sell us like cattle for the sake of money. They've covered up corruption and murdered those that tried to expose them. My parents tried. My grandfather tried. And the McCoys killed them. We've only made it this far because we have a few dirty tricks they don't know about." I felt another smile coming, but this one was more sardonic than joyful.

I felt Sy's hand grasp my own. I couldn't cry. I had already cried many times for the loss of my family. It has been years since I've shed a tear for them, but that didn't stop the knife from sliding into my heart every time I had to think or talk about it. There was no evidence. There never was when it involved the McCoys. I gave Sy's hand a reassuring squeeze.

About five years after the fire, just after my uncle died, I found hidden records my grandfather had tucked away in one of his favorite books. It showed over a million dollars was missing from a local company he had worked with. I couldn't read the document very well at the time but the name of the person withdrawing the funds was Anderson McCoy. The mayor's oldest son.

The factory my parents and grandfather had died in was owned by the company listed on the document, and since the fire destroyed all other records within the facility the only existing copies would be in the hands of the McCoys.

I then said something to Felix I had never planned to say in a million years. "So.... thank you, Felix."

No one said much after that short altercation. We were dismissed by Felix, and Sy took my hand and led me into the same small room as before.

My trunk was waiting for me there, and I had never been happier to see the beat-up old thing in my life. Sy sat on the bed as I rummaged around for some clean clothes to put on after a shower.

"Stop doing that," she blurted out. I glanced over at her. She was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling aimlessly. Her hands were fidgeting over her belly as her dangling legs kicked back and forth.

"Doing what?" I shot back innocently. As if I had no clue about the jackassory I had just committed.

"We need them on our side and you keep making things worse. Felix already doesn't get much respect from other packs, and you being.... YOU isn't helping," she spoke in that super soft tone of hers. That usually meant a request was coming.

"Please be nice. They don't have to love you but it would be great if Felix doesn't feel like killing you every five minutes," and there it was. Like I had no idea how desperately we needed a safe place to hide.