Rise Like The Sun

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

NICK

Nick lifts his head, his knuckles bloodied.

The boy whimpers under his fists, collapsed onto the ground heavily, as he narrows his eyes onto Killian, who is already making his way towards him.

"You're not thinking right, Nick," Killian says, his words and voice wary, but even as he reaches for him, Nick grabs at his fist and turns him back, pushing him back down to the ground. "Nick –,"

"I told him I was done," Nick enunciates, as he dodges Killian's fist.

"You messed up his business first, Nick," Killian retorts, kicking out at Nick's face.

Nick can't really defend himself with that one, because it's true. He did mess up Mitchell's business first, but you don't apologise in this type of business. That's not the way it all works. Blood in, blood out. He had thought briefly of upturning Mitchell's entire business but that hadn't been enough to assuage the burning within his blood. Instead, Nick had decided to simply get onto his bike, call in all the favours he had, and take the fight straight to Mitchell himself.

Except Mitchell hadn't turned up.

"Where is your boss-man, Killian?" Nick bites out, laughingly. "Did he run and hide, hearing that I was coming for him? Does he know that he's finally taken that step too far?"

He's so angry that he can barely see straight, but Killian's face is ashen, his lips parting in clear shock. Killian has never seen him so angry before, so reckless, and it clearly has its effect for now Killian can't predict what he can do, what he wants to do. Even so, he attempts to reason with him.

Killian says, "Nick, you're a rational guy, come on –,"

"He threatened my Mum, Killian," Nick interrupts. "You don't go after blood. That's the number one rule, mate." Nick puts a knee to Killian's chest, refusing to let him up, as he takes out the blade from his pocket. The silver gleams and burns within his fingers as Nick presses the cold metal against Killian's pale cheek. "Where is Mitchell, Killian? He and I have unfinished business."

"I don't know – I swear it, Nick," Killian barks out, terrified, "please, Nick, I don't know –,"

Jacob's voice rings out. "Hey, Nick, let him up," he says. "Mitchell's not here. I think he must have run for it."

Nick lets out a huff, but he leans in, drawing the blade carefully, languidly against Killian's cheek before he trails it down to his neck, against the rapidly beating vein that thrums out against the pale of his neck.

"When Mitchell comes crawling out of his hidey-hole, you tell him that this war between us finishes here and now," he hisses out viciously. "If I even see a feather, I'm coming for him and I'll rip his throat open, Killian. You tell him that."

*

"The butler is judging me."

Outside, the storm crackles.

There's something uncomfortable about his mother's house, Nick thinks. Nick watches his mother's eyes grow wide as she splutters helplessly.

"The butler is –," she begins to repeat, rather faintly, her face turned towards the butler, who looks as though butter wouldn't melt into his mouth. "Nick, you have blood on your face!"

"It's from last week, I swear," Nick lies quickly, heavily.

His mother is utterly furious, and Nick begins to rethink threatening everyone to steer clear of her, for a moment. "I am a patient woman," she says, her voice taut. "I really am. I find out that my son is still living, somewhere in the city with his pig of a father, and I go and bring him back. Said son proceeds to show his gratitude by starting fights, risking my business, going out at all hours of the night, only to turn up in the morning –,"