Page 18 of Brutal
The room feels smaller. “That doesn’t sound like an accident,” I say.
He snorts. “It didn’t sound like much of anything from where I was standing. Just shouting. Movement. Then—” He flicks his hand. “It was over.”
I furrow my brow. “Over how?”
“One second they’re all there, and next thing…”
“What?” I press.
“It happened fast,” he repeats. “Like it was already going to happen.”
I don’t react right away.
I let his words sit for a moment.
Already going to happen.
What does that mean? Sounds like it wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a mistake.
My pulse spikes. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
He shrugs for the umpteenth time. “Just how it felt.”
“Did you recognize anyone?”
He looks away, goes back to wiping a glass. “People with money don’t come down here for the atmosphere,” he says. “That’s all I’ll say. You can figure the rest.”
The Vexleys.
He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.
I nod and finish the whiskey. It burns a trail down my throat. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He nods with a grunt, already heading down the bar to the others.
I leave cash under my empty glass, stand, and leave the bar.
The air outside feels colder than before.
I walk back toward the dock without thinking, drawn by something I can’t quite name. The boards creak under my boots again, the water below as dark as it was when I first arrived.
Already going to happen.
I look out over the edge.
If someone was pulled back…
Then whatever came next didn’t start there.
It started before.
Somewhere earlier. Somewhere no one bothered to look.
My mind races as I fit the pieces together. Multiple men. Raised voices. Restraint, not immediate violence.
This wasn’t a moment that spiraled.
This was something that reached its conclusion.
