JAXSON
The sound of sirens cut through the night before I even lifted my head.
Blue and red lights flashed through the broken windows, painting the bar in color. The smell of blood and whiskey mixed in the air. Damien was on the floor, barely moving, his face covered in blood. I could still hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The door swung open, and the police rushed in.
“Drop it! Everyone, hands where I can see them!” one of them yelled.
I wasn’t holding anything. My hands were already on the floor, blood dripping from my knuckles. Damien’s crew had vanished, cowards. A couple of broken chairs lay around, one half-bent under Damien’s body.
Two officers came to me. Another two went straight to Damien. They didn’t ask questions yet. One of them looked around and spoke into his
