"Drop the gun, Jonathan!"I didn't wait for him to turn. I swung the steel pipe with everything I had. It whistled through the rain, a heavy, cold weight in my grip. My father’s son was dead. The victim who cried in panic rooms was buried. Only the animal was left.The pipe connected with Jonathan’s shoulder. A sickening crack echoed off the HVAC units. He grunted, the pistol skittering across the wet gravel."Ethan, get back!" Caleb shouted. He was struggling to his feet, peeling the fake entry wound off his forehead. The prosthetic hung like a piece of dead skin. "He’s not alone!""I don't give a fuck who he’s with!" I stepped over a puddle, the water splashing my ruined trousers. I raised the pipe again. "You were my brother, Jonathan. You stayed at our house. You ate our food. And you sold us to a man who enjoyed watching my father bleed."Jonathan rolled onto his side, clutching his shattered collarbone. His face was a mask of spit and rain. "Your father was a weak man, Ethan! He
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