Chapter 4 #2
I finish my beer, and the letters stop moving.
A long list pops up on the screen. I click one link and direct it to screen one.
Images of Kirill standing beside a coffin draped in a Russian flag appear.
He wears a hardened expression, and his scar is still red.
The caption reads: K. Petrov — classified operations, Eastern Bloc, 2004.
I peer closer. "What the hell were you, Scarface?"
I scroll further, but every link leads to a dead end of deleted accounts and disappeared witnesses to crimes. The only constant is the scar on his face, turning paler as he ages. And it's always the same angle with the same dead eyes staring at whoever took the photo.
I read through situations and crimes the government decided to hide for who knows what reason. However, that isn't uncommon in my world either. Crime families know how to make things disappear.
Nothing seems abnormal for a criminal in a mob family.
Why hadn't I heard of him before?
I read dozens of files, start to get bored, then type in my next victim.
Valentina Abruzzo.
The results are worse. Nothing but art auctions, fake modeling profiles, and coded references to "FINZIA", the same word tattooed under her collarbone. I click on a thread labeled FINZIA PROJECT – Milan Archive.
The page flickers before I can read more than a few words, then the words bloodline, inheritance, and seat-at-the-table flash before it's gone.
"Dammit!" I slam my hand on the desk.
They're like ghosts wrapped in gold.
They have their claws in Sean.
And me.
No, they don't.
They'll kill me.
Not the first person who wanted me dead.
This is different.
A sinking reality hits my gut. I stare at the blinking cursor before I start another search.
The Underworld.
For a moment, the screen stays blank. Then one by one, words crawl across the monitor. Then everything flashes fast.
Access Denied.
You shouldn't be here.
Leave now.
The system freezes. My cursor won't move. The fans inside my computer whir louder until the sound rises into a whine. Lines of red code flood the screen, looping phrases I can't decipher fast enough.
Then everything goes black.
A chill sweeps through me. I shiver, mumbling, "What the fuck?" and clicking the power button, but nothing happens.
"What the fuck!" I fume louder, then shove my chair back, and rise.
My pulse hammers between my ears. The black monitor never flickers to life, and I stare at my reflection with new dread.
Whoever wrote that line of code, "you shouldn't be here," wasn't bluffing. Now, someone knows I was looking.
I shove the chair away and press my palms to my temples, fighting a headache. The silence in my apartment gnaws at me. I contemplate trying to sleep, but my phone buzzes on the desk.
Finn: Dinner. Pub. 7 p.m. Brenna and I haven't seen you in days.
I'm about to reply when another one comes in.
Finn: Don't make me send her to drag you to dinner.
I crack a smile. The best thing that ever happened to me was when Finn and Brenna took me in as their own. They're the most important people in my life and the only people I consider my parents.
Me: On my way.
I slide my arms into a jacket, my feet into sneakers, and make my way out of the building. Even though the pavement is wet, there are plenty of people walking around. It takes ten minutes to get to O'Malley's.
It's warm inside, and the familiarity is comforting. Beer, fish and chips, and burgers fill the air. I inhale deeply and glance past the long wooden bar that always gets restored whenever Nora decides to remodel.
Several booths in, I spot Finn and Brenna. I push past mostly people I know, nodding as I go.
Finn teases, "Look who remembered to come eat with us."
"Sorry. Been busy," I claim and slide into the booth across from them.
Brenna pats my hand and beams, "Don't let him guilt you. I keep telling him you have a life outside of us. What's new?"
I hung out with an Abruzzo I wanted to fuck last night, and then I had a Petrov give me orders.
I try to ignore my guilt. "Just normal stuff?"
Finn signals the bartender, and within seconds, three pints hit the table. He says, "Tell him about the rooster."
"Rooster?" I ask, taking a large swig.
She rolls her eyes and leans closer. "The neighbor behind us decided to get a rooster. I was out for my walk yesterday, and it attacked me."
Worry builds. I close one fist. "What? Are you okay?"
She waves her hand in front of her face. "Yeah. It's fine."
"No, it's not," Finn insists.
I arch my eyebrows, keeping my fist tight.
He seethes, "She has peck marks all over her calves."
"Oh shit!" I blurt out.
Brenna insists, "I'm okay. But the poor rooster."
I lock eyes with Finn. "You break its neck?"
"Of course I did."
I nod. "Good."
Brenna's lips twitch. "That was a little extreme."
"No, it wasn't. The neighbors are lucky I didn't break theirs," Finn declares.
"Too right," I offer, and hold out my mug.
Finn clinks it, and we both drink.
Brenna groans.
The server, Jessica, comes over. "Are you ready to order?"
Finn states, "We both want fish and chips. Not sure about Brax."
"Same," I answer.
"Another round?" she asks.
"Please," I say.
She nods and leaves.
Finn's tone shifts. He tries to act casual, but it's not. I know when he's prying, but trying not to pry. It's something I respect about him. He understands that a man deserves independence and privacy. But when he suspects something is off, he'll step in.
He comments, "So I knew Sean was hiding out, but what's your excuse?"
My throat tightens. "We're both around."
"He's missed workouts. Killian's losing his damn mind, not sparring with him every morning. And now both of you didn't show up this morning," Finn points out.
My heart races. I quickly state, "Sean's just been tired."
"Since when does Sean O'Malley get tired?" Finn pushes.
Brenna sighs. "Finn—"
He lifts a hand, eyes still on me. "And what's your excuse? I waited an hour at the gym. Kept thinking you'd return my calls or texts."
Guilt expands, but I force a smirk. "Sorry. I was sleeping. We had a late one."
He doesn't blink. "Late one?"
"Yeah." I lean back, trying to relax. "Sean and I went out. Blew off some steam. You know how it is...beer, cards, bad decisions."
Brenna laughs lightly. "Boys' night, huh? No wonder you look like you haven't slept in days."
"Do I?"
She winces and puts her two fingers together. "Little bit."
I laugh, hoping it sounds natural.
Finn isn't amused, and he isn't buying it. He studies me with his weathered green eyes that saw straight through every lie I ever tried to sneak past him.
I drink more beer.
"Where did you go?" he asks.
"The new club downtown. After that it gets a little blurry," I fib.
He scoffs. "That makes sense for last night, but where has Sean been all the other days?"
As upset as I am that Sean won't tell me everything he knows about the Underworld, my loyalty toward him will never fade. So I lie further, "Like I said. He's been busy."
Brenna interjects, "Hopefully, things will calm down for him soon."
Finn doesn't move. He pins his stare on me. "If he's mixed up in something, you can tell me. I'll help him figure out how to handle it."
His offer twists in my gut. I wish I could accept it, but he has no idea what "it" even is. Hell, neither do I, really. And if he knew about Kirill, or Valentina, he'd be livid. Plus, there's no way he could figure out how to get me out of the 24-hour problem I have.
It's less than 24 hours now.
My gut flips. I decide I have to give him something. "It's not a big deal. We got into a brawl, and we both spent the day recovering."
"Last night you got into a fight?" Brenna asks with worry all over her expression.
"We're fine," I assure her.
Finn exhales through his nose, unconvinced. "You're loyal to a fault, kid."
I keep my eyes locked on his. "Guess you taught me that."
"Yeah, but I also taught you when loyalty gets you killed."
The words hang there. I take another long drink, hoping the cold will wash away the lies coming out of my mouth.
Across the pub, someone shouts at the dartboard, and Brenna laughs. "There's Stacy from the vets. Haven't seen her in ages." She slides out of the booth. "Let the boys be boys. You were young and dumb once, too," she teases, patting him on his hand.
He grunts.
As soon as she's gone, Finn leans forward again, elbows on the table. "All right. No audience. Tell me what's really wrong."
"Nothing."
He gives a humorless laugh. "If you're lying to protect him, fine. But don't protect him from me."
He's right, and it makes the guilt worse. I should tell him. I should let someone else shoulder the weight before it crushes both Sean and me. But Sean's words echo like a warning bell.
Don't talk about it, not anywhere.
So I deceive him again. "It's just been a wild week. We'll get our shit together."
Brenna returns, smiling. She slides next to him. "Leave the boy alone, Finn."
He grumbles but leans back, arm around her shoulders.
I smile, but it feels wrong. They deserve only the truth from me. Instead, I hide behind another sip and stare at the green glow of the O'Malley's sign reflecting in the window.
Family's family.
And there's no way I'm betraying mine for whatever this cult is that Sean's father created.