Heart of the Hunter
see that he wasn’t in fucking control, at least not of me. He never was. He kept me caged up my whole life and now I was out. It was his turn to feel like nothing.
    Come find me, you useless old fuck. I pray you fucking do, and I’ll be waiting to shove a barrel down your throat.
    “Well, pal,” I said, lighting a smoke. I slid one out of the pack for Deacon. “Good thing I hit the road then, hey?”
    Deacon looked up and shook his head.
    “You and me both, brother.” He took the cigarette and fired it up. “Your old man is no fucking fool. He’s an asshole, but no fool. First door he came knocking on was mine.”
    “Ha. How did that go for the poor bastards he sent over?”
    Deacon just smiled.
    “It was time for me to get gone as well, Hunter.” He took the bottle back and stood up. “So what’s your grand plan, asshole? You know your old man is coming. It didn’t take me too long to track you down and you know he’s not going to be far behind. You just going to let a storm hit this nice little town?”
    “I’m not going to fucking run. That’s for goddamn sure.”
    “Yeah? I thought that was your thing these days.”
    “Hey. Watch your fucking mouth, pal.”
    Deacon just shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
    “Just saying, Hunter. You’re up here, in Buttfuck, Montana, in a one room shithole, working as a civilian? I mean, that ain’t exactly standing tall.”
    I felt my fists clench and my teeth grit. I just sat there letting his words sink in.
    “If you’re looking for a fucking scrap, Deacon, I’ll give you one. You fucking know who I am. Don’t fucking question me.”
    “Yeah, you’re right. I do know who you are, and this isn’t it. You’re goddamn right I’m calling you out. If I need to slap you around a bit to remind you, I fucking will. If that’s what it takes for you to quit being a pussy. Get your ass back to Boston. We’ll ride in together and finish this shit with the old man. You know I’ll war for you, Hunter. What the fuck do you want to stick around here for anyway? Where are you going to go? Boston is in your blood, pal. It’s part of who you are.”
    I just sat there. He was right. Who the fuck was I kidding? Sticking it to Old Man Donnelly felt great and I liked the idea of him sweating, but I was running. It felt fucking awful. Working nine to five, listening to Dennis’s shit talk, trying to be polite and pretending to be a normal fucking human being. This shit wasn’t me. Deacon was right. I wouldn’t admit it to the cocky fucker, but he was right.
    “The old man is going to come for you, Hunter, and he’s going to tear this town apart. He’s going to fucking murder. Now, I don’t give a flying fuck, but maybe you do. Anyone or anything you’ve touched here, he’ll fucking burn to the ground just to prove a point. You really want to bring that here?”
    I stood up, walked over to Deacon, and shoved the bottle into his chest.
    “Fuck it. Fuck this town, fuck Boston, fuck the neighborhood, and fuck the old man. Let the bastard come. I don’t give a shit about any of it, Deacon. There, here, whatever. I’m not running, but I sure as shit ain’t going back home. There’s nothing for me there anymore. I’m heading to a cabin in the mountains. If the old man wants to war, he can fucking come to me. I’m done doing that cocksucker any favors.”
    I walked back to the cot and sat down. The old man would come and he would bring hell with him. I needed to get out of this place, get far away from these innocent people. I wasn’t good for anybody and I didn’t give a shit. It’s how I liked it.
    “Well, if fuck it is your only plan, you know I’m in,” Deacon said tossing me the bottle. “Been like a motto for us sorry motherfuckers for a long time. Let’s finish this fine beverage and then ride, pal. Fuck it , right? I assume you’ve got no goodbyes you want to make?”
    I hesitated before answering. I looked him in the eye.
    “No one that deserves

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