Chapter Forty Russell
Chapter Forty
RUSSELL
One week later
SEVENDUST’S “BLACK” BLASTS through the Hummer we’re riding eight deep in, bass rattling the floorboards, loaded guns idle at our boots.
I keep my eyes trained on my brother and mentor.
His own eyes shut as his chest heaves beneath his vest in a steady, murderous rhythm that’s been building since the night Tobias finally put it all together.
Tobias clicking the missing piece into place by pinpointing Larissa’s familiarity.
Which was only confirmed by the background of the videos found in Ciro’s mansion, along with the file on Dom’s laptop.
Not long after, it clicked for Tyler, who came out of his bedroom for confirmation while at the same time begging that it didn’t exist—just after, imploding before our eyes in utter agony when we couldn’t spare him the truth.
Since that day, my sleep has been interrupted by the need for a different confirmation.
As well as the need for a win for my brother, whose grasp dwindles by the day.
Confirmation of who ordered it. Confirmation of who has access to the footage.
Confirmation of who still plays it, over and over, for fucking entertainment.
As I dug, Donovan dug deeper, and miraculously, we managed to pull an IP, then trace a better address.
And not just to anyone, but to a retired fucking deacon and well-known media correspondent.
One of Ciro’s most notorious associates, with powerful political ties.
The evident highest bidder, who, according to his history, to this day, replays Larissa’s defilement like it’s scripture.
Which makes him the perfect scapegoat and altar for my brother’s idling wrath.
As the music thrums at our feet, only seven pairs of boots tap along.
The air in the Hummer thickest and pulsing from the man sitting opposite me.
Rifle clutched to his chest by his forearms; he’s strapped head to toe like a war god.
It’s only when the music cuts and the tires slow on the crunching gravel that his eyes finally open.
Inside them, a black abyss stares back at me before he dips his chin.
It’s then I become all too aware that whatever is staring through him isn’t my brother anymore—but is in his care as it thanks me for the offering.
Within a few thundering heartbeats, it’s unleashed.
As fury is made flesh, we all watch every lightning-fast move destroying everything in his path.
As the devil whispers in his ear, he obeys as sickening cracks sound and screams echo that can’t be unheard.
We don’t stop him. We join him, feed him until he’s drenched in vengeance, soaked from head to foot until he stomps past us, seeming only mildly satiated.
On the silent ride home, none of us breathes a word as I resume my vigilant watch.
Trepidation shudders through me when his eyes don’t shift back from the abyss, as they remain unblinking at me in silent order for more.
Fearful I won’t get him back, just as the sun breaks the horizon, I glimpse the black clouding his eyes slowly starting to recede—just enough—into something human.