Story Of My Life (Book Three in the Peterick Mpreg Series)

Bad Blood (Dallon's POV)

Ryan fucking Ross. The little asshole is back. I thought we for rid of him for good all those years ago, but apparently I was wrong.

"You mother fucker," I said as I walked over to him.

"Oh, hello Dallon," Ryan said as he glared at me.

"Why?" I asked

"I think you know why," he said.

"Actually, I don't," I said. "Please enlighten me."

"You fucking stole Brendon from me! That day back in college! That one day you came, Brendon fell head over heels in love with you! I was left in the dust! Brendon pushed me out of his life and pretty soon, he only had time for you! How do you think I felt?!" Ryan screamed.

"Do you think I care?" I asked. "Obviously, if Brendon was in love with you, he wouldn't have fallen for me."

"I had way more to offer than you ever will!" Ryan shouted.

"More? As in this? Kidnapping all of us? Hurting us? Abusing us? Raping us?! That doesn't sound like anything at all. It just sounds like you're obsessed with Brendon and were willing to kill anyone or anything to have him back. Someone would have to be insane in order to be with you!" I shouted.

"Go fuck yourself, Weekes!" Ryan shouted.

"I don't need to. I have Brendon for that. I have Brendon!" I said.

"Oh, you'll regret that," he said.

"Pete?" I asked him, gesturing to the knife he brought with.

"Here," he said as he gave it to me.

I turned back to Ryan and he had a cleaver in his hand. He glared at me and I glared back.

"Care to throw the first hit?" I asked. "I'm all yours."

"Please, be my guest," Ryan said as he walked towards me.

"If you insist," I said.

I moved quickly and grabbed him with my hand, spinning him around and putting him in a headlock with my free arm and hand. He struggled to breathe, but it didn't bother me.

"Sure you don't want the first hit?" I asked.

"Give it to me," he said as I let go of him.

He backed away and then ran towards me, waving the knife at me and shouting. I backed away, the knife barely grazing against my arm.

"My turn, you little fucker," I said.

I instantly took off towards him, maybe a little too fast for him. He couldn't move fast enough, so I wound up running him over and pinning him to the ground. I say on top of him, holding the knife to his throat.

"Ryan Ross, my little taker. Be prepared to meet your maker," I said, and with one quick flick of my wrist, he was dead.