Chapter 119 The murder
WARNING ⚠️ ⚠️ 🔞 🔞
PLEASE BE ADVISED, THIS CHAPTER HAS GORY SCENES OF ACTUAL MURDER
Ryder's POV
Diesel came out first, blocking the door. I stepped out behind Mark, cutting off any escape toward the stalls. Mark saw us and his expression shifted from casual to alert in a heartbeat.
"The fuck are you doing?" His hand moved toward his pocket, probably going for his phone or a weapon.
Diesel grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him backward into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. "We need to talk about the video."
Recognition flashed across Mark's face, quickly followed by calculation. "Oh shit, you're the guy from the video. Diesel, right?" He tried to smile, tried to play it cool. "Hey man, this is just business. Nothing personal."
"Nothing personal?" Diesel's voice was dangerous, controlled. "You're blackmailing me over a mistake, threatening to destroy my life and everyone I care about, but it's nothing personal?"
"It's just money, man. You pay, I keep quiet, everybody wins." Mark tried to pull away but Diesel's grip was iron. "You don't gotta make this harder than it needs to be."
I moved in closer, grabbing Mark's other arm. Together we had him pinned between us and the wall, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
"Please," Mark said, and now there was real fear in his voice. "Whatever you're thinking, don't do it. I got copies of that video stored all over. You kill me, they all get sent to Snake automatically. You'll make everything worse."
"You're lying," Diesel said flatly. "You keep everything on your phone because you're too stupid to back shit up properly. I've been watching you, Mark. I know your patterns. I know you're full of shit."
Mark's eyes went wide. "Okay, okay, look, you can have the phone. I'll delete everything right now, I swear. Just let me go and we can forget this ever happened."
"Too late for that," I said quietly.
We dragged him toward the sinks. He started struggling harder now, genuine panic setting in as he realized what was about to happen. He threw wild punches that we blocked easily. He tried to kick out but couldn't get leverage with both of us holding him.
"Wait, please, I'll give you the money back! All of it! I'll—"
Diesel didn't let him finish. He grabbed the back of Mark's head and slammed it toward the ceramic sink.
The first impact was hard enough to crack something. I heard it, that wet sound of bone meeting porcelain, and I saw Mark's eyes go unfocused.
The second impact was harder. Blood started flowing, bright red against the white ceramic.
The third impact stopped Marcus from struggling entirely.
We let go and he crumpled to the floor, head bleeding, body twitching once before going completely still.
I checked for a pulse even though I knew what I would find. Nothing. Mark Webb was dead.
"His phone," Diesel said, his voice cold and mechanical.
I went through Mark's pockets with surprisingly steady hands. Afterall, this was not the first time I was handling a dead person. I found the phone, used his thumb while it was still warm to unlock it. The fingerprint scanner worked on the first try. I scrolled through until I found the video folder. Then I saw the footage of Diesel and Lisa and deleted it along with every copy and backup I could find on the device.
"Done," I said, wiping the phone clean before putting it back in Mark's pocket.
We positioned the body to make it look right. We put Mark's body on the floor, with his head near the sink, blood pooling underneath him. We thought about the scenario. The floor was wet and has slippery surface. A drunk guy loses his balance and hits his head on the way down. Tragic accident. Happened all the time in places like this.
"We need to go," Diesel said, already moving toward the door.
We left one at a time, slipping out into the hallway and then disappearing into the crowd like we'd never been there. Nobody looked at us twice. Nobody noticed two more faces in a club full of drunk assholes.
I pushed through the crowd and out the front door, sucking in the cold night air like I had been drowning. My hands were shaking, my whole body trembling with adrenaline and horror at what we had just done.
I got in my truck and sat there for a long moment, staring at my hands. I had taken off my gloves before leaving the bathroom, but I put them in my pocket then. I brought them out and ripped them and shoved them back in my pocket to burn later. I then drove away from that club without looking back.
My phone buzzed about five minutes later. I looked at it and it was a text from Diesel.
"It's done. We never talk about this again. Thank you for doing this with me."
I deleted the message and kept driving, putting distance between myself and the body we'd left cooling on that bathroom floor.
And as I drove through the dark streets toward my house, toward Sage and all the lies I was about to pile on top of this one, I felt the weight of what we had done settling into my bones.
The debt was paid.
But the cost was very high.