At the Expense of One’s Life
They said that revenge is a dish best served cold, and Gael would agree that was true most of the time. But that wasn't the case with J's killer. Avenging his death should be taken care of right away. Gael wanted to serve the fucking dish straight out of the boiling pot of rage that had been bubbling inside him ever since he saw the light going out of J's eyes.
There was no time like now.
Gael didn't want to only stab Bruno like he did to J; he needed to carve his eyes out, scrape every piece of flesh in the fucker's body until he runs out of skin to cut while J's blood was still on his hands. He hadn't washed and changed clothes yet.
And that's what he did—sort of.
At least that's what he planned to do.