Page 30 of Caged Hunger

“Compared to you and your band of wimpy men, I’m the goddamn greatest,” Basher snarled, standing up straighter so he was almost eye level with the bigger boy.

The guy began to laugh.

Basher’s left hand curled into a fist as his blood began to boil.

“Give me that fucking thing,” the man growled, tearing the bat from Basher’s hand and poking him hard in the chest with the end.

Basher stumbled back, eyes glaring at the man he was about to tear apart.

“Why don’t you go home and blow your little friends,” the guy snarled, a cocky smirk spreading across his face.

Oh, that was fucking it!

Without warning, Basher drove his fist into the bully’s face. The sickening crack of a broken nose echoed through the air, followed by a rush of blood spilling down the boy’s lips and chin.

The guy let out a cry, dropping the bat and clutching his nose.

Basher bent down and quickly retrieved his bat. Before he realized what he was doing, he swung the bat hard at the boy.

He was sent sprawling, crashing onto his side with a sharp cry of pain. Blood burst from his mouth as he coughed and spat out two broken teeth. Stunned, Basher stared at the growing pool of blood around him.

There was something about the sight of blood and the withering boy that calmed the storm brewing inside him.

Two other boys attempted to pounce on Basher, each being met with an up-close view of Basher’s bat.

All three boys keeled over in pain, sobbing and crying and calling Basher every name under the sun.

“So, who’s next?” Basher growled, looking up at the rest of the boys, who all looked terrified.

They all shook their heads, then turned and ran.

The three bleeding on the ground somehow managed to get to their knees, then hobbled off with their tails between their legs.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, dude,” Barry called from where he and the other two boys were standing by the pitcher’s mound, staring at him like he was the actual devil himself.

Staring at his schoolmates, he realized that he would never fit in with the other kids.

Most hated him because he was a foster kid—a leftover kid with no family or parents who loved him. Others hated him because they feared him. They always saw him as this unstable kid who always lost his shit.

Fuck those kids. He didn’t need parents, and he didn’t need friends.

It was shortly after that when the kids at his school started calling him Basher.

Even when he was sent to live with a new foster family, the name somehow followed him. Kids talked, and thanks to social media, rumors traveled distances. Either way, kids were afraid of him.

Closing his closet door, he grabbed his keys, then headed out to meet the guys.

“So, you ready to bash some heads?” Blade shouted as he burst out of the back of Ride ’em Hard, a wide grin stretched across his face.

He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, looking like a kid who’d just been let loose in a candy store and told he could have whatever he wanted.

Caden and Marcus followed him out.

“Jesus. Can you at least try to act like an adult?” Caden commented, checking the chamber of his gun before shoving it into the back of his jeans.

With a flick of his wrist, Blade sent two steel daggers flying across the parking lot, striking the wooden target they had hung on the other side of the lot, dead center in the bull’s-eye.

“Can a kid do that?” Blade asked in one of his cocky-as-shit voices.