Like he was being pulled out of a trance, Will dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “Eva, what the fuck are you doing?”
Tears stung her eyes as she pointed to the man on the floor. “You don’t have to kill him, Will! He’s out!”
“You don’t understand a fucking thing,” he snarled. The gun in his hand didn’t move, didn’t shake.
Fury and desperation built up in Eva’s chest as she met his eyes, and saw the raging dark storm inside his mind. She didn’t know why she said what she said next, didn’t know why in a million years it was the first thing that popped into her head, but the words tumbled from her mouth in desperation anyway.
“Anger’s my meat; I sup upon myself, and so shall starve with feeding.”
The room fell quiet, save for the panicked breathing of the injured and threatened men. Everyone’s eyes flitted from Will, to Eva, and back again, trying to decipher what was happening between them.
Will froze, staring into her eyes. She could see something changing. She could see something washing over him. The gun in his hand started to tremble. His breathing came wet and shallow.
Will began to blink and blink, like he was waking up. He stared at Eva a few moments more, then looked down at the man on the floor, sinking in and out of unconsciousness as Will threatened to make it permanent.
Eva felt every muscle in her body let go when Will finally lowered his arm.
Will didn’t fully turn to the men, but only bent his head enough that they knew he was talking to them. His voice was deep, black with promises of death. “Get out.”
The Latino men didn’t move at first, instead staring nervously at Charlie. Charlie only shook his head at them. “What he said. I’ll give you five more seconds to get out.”
They didn’t deny the invitation a second time. The man in the bun and the man with the slashed chest did their best to awkwardly carry the man from the floor out to the SUV. The leader, still huffing to retrieve his breath, gave the three of them a heavy, incredulous look, one hand still cradling his throat where Will had struck him. He said nothing as he followed his men out into the daylight and disappeared.
~ THIRTEEN ~
Will had never felt frozen like he did now. The weight of the handgun hung at the end of his arm, heavy and unsatisfied. He watched those motherfuckers stumble out the door, all four of them still breathing, still in one piece. Their blood on his blade wasn’t enough. They owed him life.
If anyone had asked Will what he felt in that moment, he would have told them he was too angry to move. He didn’t realize that was possible, or what it could even feel like, but he knew now. He knew he was a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown, and if he even so much as stepped a foot toward Eva in that moment, he would explode and send them all into oblivion.
The thought came with a second emotion: fear.
His eyes felt heavy and he let them close as he focused on steadying his breath. From outside he could hear the men pile sloppily into their SUV, doors slamming shut one at a time. A moment later the vehicle revved to life and quickly sped away, throwing rocks and gravel against the bar. He heard Charlie’s exasperated breath release in a great huff, and the thunking sound when the barrel of the shotgun knocked against the bar. And he heard Eva’s ragged, teary breathing at the edge of it all.
Her voice echoed in his mind. “Anger’s my meat; I sup upon myself, and so shall starve with feeding.”
It was from Coriolanus. One of the many beautiful lines given to Volumnia, the soldier’s mother, a character Will found so strong; and one Eva rightly pointed out was as poisoned with rage as her son.
In that moment, standing over the man on the floor, Will had been fully prepared—eager—to end his life. All he could hear was the raging of the fire that took the bakery wailing in his ears, the greedy consuming sound of heat and death that haunted his nightmares. Somehow he could feel the heat on his skin like it was happening again, pulsing like a living thing, singeing the hair off his arms. And something deep in his brain told him all he had to do to put the fire out was pull the trigger. Pull the trigger, dig four graves in the meadow out back, and everything would be fine. It would be over. You would have your retribution.
But Eva burst through the fire in his mind like a phoenix, an unexpected invader he had no defense against. For the first time in a long time, Will had hesitated. He listened, like he was under a spell. He heard her over the fire, reciting Coriolanus to him, both a daydream and a distant memory come together to stop him.
Her voice was like a flashover, a rush of oxygen deliberately pushed into a fire to make it burn out quickly. Suddenly the fire was gone, and Will stood there, cold, wondering.
He didn’t remember telling them to leave. He was just suddenly aware of the weight of his unused handgun in his palm, and of the dark anger that started bubbling up in his gut.
You should have fucking killed them. You piece of shit coward. You should have killed them. You might never have a chance like that again. What about vengeance?
Will heard his name on the edge of his consciousness. He turned and saw Eva taking soft steps toward him in bare feet, her eyes wide and scared.
“Get away from me,” he growled.
Eva stopped and straightened. “Will…”
“Get away,” he said, turning from her. “I told you to stay in the fucking office.”
“Will, I…”
“You should have stayed in the office!” he yelled.
Charlie came out from behind the bar and behind Eva, putting his hands on her shoulders. His face was still a wide-eyed moon of shock. “Eva, c’mon.” He pulled on her gently. She fought him for a moment as she stared at Will, her mouth hanging open, wondering, asking without saying a word. Finally she let Charlie turn her away and lead her through the bar and out the back door.
Will dropped his head and closed his eyes. Fumbling, he put his handgun on the nearest upright table and rubbed his hands roughly over his face, tugging at his own hair, trying to get his body and his mind to reconnect with each other. He felt wetness on his cheeks and realized his eyes were leaking what must be stress tears, a byproduct of the chemical overload rushing through his brain.
You’re also a human, said some part of his mind.
He leaned hard on the table and hung his head. There was too much adrenaline in his veins to sit, but too little to actually hold him up straight.
He stood, propped against the table in a numb haze until Charlie came back in from outside without Eva. He came up to Will, but kept more distance than he usually did, and it did not go unnoticed. “That was…” said Charlie, trailing off.
Will sighed heavily. “That was a disaster.”
“A disaster?” said Charlie. He put one hand on his hips and ran the other one roughly through his brown hair. “Shit, we’re all still alive. I was going to say I can’t believe that worked. When you wanted me ready with that shotgun, I was… I thought for sure I was gonna have to watch someone die today.”
“You should’ve watched all of them die today,” said Will.
A look of quiet horror descended on Charlie’s face. “What?”
“I told Eva to stay in the office. I didn’t want her near this for a reason. I shouldn’t have hesitated. Now they’ll regroup and strike back harder. They’ll bring guns this time. They won’t make that mistake again.”
When he heard no response, Will looked up and saw an expression that said Charlie doubted him. He pushed himself up straight and took a few steps forward.