Page 237 of Bitter’s Sweet

“No.”

He stops.

Just stops.

Blood drips from his forearm onto the concrete between us.

Behind him, Razor fights like an animal. Hyde and Boogie have him facedown near a rusted beam. Boogie has one knee in his back and one hand twisted into his jacket. Razor’s mouth is bloody. His thigh is bleeding where I buried Mercy’s palette knife in it.

The little metal tool she gave me for wax restoration.

Apparently it works on foolishness too.

Razor lifts his head, and his eyes find me through the headlights.

“You’ll come back, Doll.”

I flinch.

I hate that I do.

“You always come back.”

Bitter rises.

One second he is on his knees in front of me, bleeding and breathing hard.

The next his fist buries itself in Razor’s face.

The sound turns my stomach and satisfies something ugly in me at the same time.

“Don’t call her that.”

Razor laughs through blood. “She liked it once.”

Bitter draws back again.

“Bitter.”

Hyde’s voice.

Bitter’s fist stops.

Not because Hyde grabs him.

Because Bitter looks at me.

I am staring.

Something shifts in his face, and his hand drops.

“Enough,” Hyde says.

Bitter breathes hard through his nose, then steps back.

That surprises me.

Razor sees it too.