Chapter 4 - The Shattered Glass
Jax felt a sudden surge of blinding rage.
He grabbed Thomas by the lapels of his white shirt and slammed him against the counter.
Coffee cups shattered onto the floor with a deafening crash.
Martha screamed in terror.
"My brother has been dead for eight years!" Jax roared into Thomas’s face.
"Is he?" Thomas smirked, despite being pinned against the counter.
"Then ask the boy who wrote that note twenty minutes ago."
Jax froze, his grip loosening slightly.
He turned his head slowly to look down at the eight-year-old boy.
The boy was staring at Jax with a look that was no longer innocent.
The boy reached up and wiped his eyes, his pale expression melting into a cold grin.
"You always were the stupid brother, Jax," the boy said, his voice dropping two octaves into a chilling, raspy tone.
Jax gasped, stepping backward in shock.
The voice coming out of the child was not the voice of an eight-year-old.
It was a voice Jax had heard in his nightmares every night for nearly a decade.
It was the voice of his older brother, Marcus.
Martha dropped the coffee pot, sending shattering porcelain and boiling liquid across the floor.
"What is happening?!" Martha shrieked, backing away toward the kitchen doors.
Thomas chuckled softly, adjusting his rumpled collar.
"Did you really think medical science couldn't vocal-pipe a kid, Jax?" Thomas asked mockingly.
The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small electronic device strapped to his throat.
"He's reading a script from the van outside," Thomas explained coldly.
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"Marcus is alive, Jax."
"And he wants his cut."
