Chapter 127. Nothing Good About the Morning

Ezra POV

My fist cracks again across Tristan’s jaw, and he sputters, sagging in Torch’s arms.

“EJ, that’s enough,” Torch says. You’re going to kill him.”

I crack my bloody knuckles. “That’s the fucking point.”

“We need him alive if we’re going to get Wren back safely.” 

Right. Tristan’s going to be our fucking bait. If the Smitties MC need Tristan, they’ll just have to give me Wren.

My jaw ticks as I stare at Tristan’s bloody face, head bowed slightly as he’s held up by Torch.

When I jerk my chin at Torch, he lets go. Tristan drops to the floor like a groaning sac of potatoes. His eyes are nearly swollen shut.

“Take a picture,” I instruct.

Torch clicks