Chapter 12

  Attrition

  Dan dropped the two-hundred-pound boar at George’s feet and stared daggers at Lucas’s crew twenty feet away.

  The men were laughing and sending over knowing smirks.

  “Yeah, it’s not a great spot,” Dan muttered to Jimmy.

  Jimmy polished his glasses. “We wait. Let the tutorial thin them.”

  He put his glasses back on, glancing back at the group, and his mother Annette.

  “Then we flip the table.”

  Dan nodded. Knuckles whitened on his club.

  Dan took long, measured strides toward the center of the meadow, his stained club resting easily on his shoulder.

  His presence—a wide-shouldered, immovable man with a large impeccable beard—caused a noticeable dip in the joking conversation Lucas was having with two of his men.

  Lucas offered a wide, fake smile. “Looks like the big guy finally wants to share some of the pig. Took you long enough.”

  Dan stopped directly in front of Lucas, planting his feet wide.

  “We’re staying here. For the next couple of days. That part of the meadow’s ours.”

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  Lucas’s smile froze. “Staying? This place is a death trap.”

  “Then leave,” Dan said. “Take your crew and go.”

  Lucas scoffed. “Fine. We’ll fortify our own damn corner. You don’t control this place, Dan. You just picked the neighborhood, and we like the view.”

  Dan trembled with controlled fury.

  "Whatever," he said, pivoting sharply. "Just stay out of our area."

  Jimmy met him halfway.

  “Let me guess, they’re staying. Waiting for us to bleed, then ‘save’ the damsels.”

  “Fuckers signed their death warrants,” Dan growled.

  The sun dipped, casting long shadows from the tree line.

  Dan took immediate command.

  He scored a rough square perimeter in the dirt.

  Jimmy walked over, planted his foot, and traced a new shape over Dan’s lines.

  “Square’s inefficient. Too much perimeter for seven people.”

  He carved a wide wedge out of a circle—like a pie with a slice missing. “We fortify the crust, leave the tip open as a choke. They come to us or they die trying.”

  Dan’s eyes gleamed. “I like pie.”

  Chris lit a cigarette. “Throwing sticks are done. Twenty of them. Sharp enough to split a skull.”

  Luna stole one and ran off with it.

  “Nineteen,” smoke rolled from his mouth.

  Across the meadow, Lucas’s crew piled sticks in front of their camp like it would save them.

  Chris snorted smoke. “They’re just making a tripping hazard.”

  Jimmy’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good thing they’re about to lose a couple guys, then.”

  As the sun went down, so did the laughter.

  Dan sat like a mountain.

  Jimmy stared into the dark.

  Chris loaded another throwing stick.

  Luna dropped the stolen one at Dan’s feet and barked once.

  Game on.