Chapter 29 #2
Cristián lets out a bone-chilling laugh. He rises to his feet, blood mixing with the dirty water dripping from his soaked clothes.
I was right in my thinking all these months. This isn’t a man. This is something that clawed its way out of hell.
Seriously. Fucking nightmare fuel.
Panting, I back up a step. “Not a fair fight with your mask on.”
Seconds pass without movement from him. And then he unbuckles the mask, tossing it aside without a care. He lifts up his shirt to show off the chunk my bullet took out of him. “This doesn’t really feel fair. How about we even things out?”
“Go ahead and try, fucker.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it? To lose everything.” His expression twists into something dark and cold.
A calm before a violent storm. “I lost my family when your shit father fed the FBI information on them. My twin sister didn’t even get the honor of handcuffs.
No, no. They shot her. I wasn’t home when it happened.
Neither was Mauricio when his family’s house was raided. Or Tomás. He lost his wife.”
I frown as his words seep through my brain like a viscous fluid. Have we really just been playing a vicious game of revenge? I’ve nearly given a year of my life to it. And for what? It’s not going to bring Papi back. It’s not going to save Laz.
Cristián’s face scrunches. “It’s hard to let shit go, you know?
So Mauricio, Tomás, and I decided to do something about it.
We multiplied. Became SIXX instead of three.
Gathered up the pieces of Los Segadores and anyone who had a bone to pick or proved themselves willing to kill without hesitation, and then we went after every single person involved in that raid.
Their families. Their friends. Their pets… ”
“You’re sick,” I spit out.
“With power? Yeah, but that’s not really my fault. Your papi chose to make me this way.”
Rage burns through me. “Where does this end?”
Cristián takes a step toward me. “With everyone living in fear. Your brother will die, and you’ll be left alone. Only, you won’t really be alone. Every time you feel that prickle on the back of your neck, you’ll know it’s me watching you—”
The click of a gun has me squeezing my eyes shut. Chest heaving, I wait for death to claim me. It’s always had my name. It followed my family to every city we moved to. Every house Papi tried to make a home.
We were never going to outrun it.
Rev’s smooth voice fills the tunnel, wrapping around me. “It won’t be you haunting him.”
My eyes shoot open to find my silver-haired boyfriend standing behind Cristián with a gun pointed at his skull.
“It’ll be me, and he’ll be pissed about it because he knows he deserves better than soulless monsters like you and me. Now get the fuck on your knees,” Rev says darkly.
Cristián grins. “I don’t think so. I like the idea of you shooting me just like this and bathing Dante in my blood.”
Rev slams the butt of his gun against Cristián’s head, dropping him to his knees. “He’s too pretty to wear your blood.”
Giving Cristián a wide berth, I throw myself at Rev, burying my face in his shirt. Rev curls his free hand around the back of my neck. “Hi, kitten.”
He holds me like that for a few moments, and then he speaks in a soothing tone. “Tell me what you need me to do. You’re in charge.”
For as overprotective as Rev can be, he’s never taken away my choice. I have to appreciate that. I have a lot to appreciate about him. But that’s a conversation for another time.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
Where I want there to be anger still, I just feel empty.
I’m drained. So fucking tired, down to my bones.
I’ve churned over how I would make Papi’s murderer pay.
Nothing ever felt right. Because I’m not a killer, and I don’t ever want to be.
It would mean I’d have more in common with Cristián than just revenge.
Clinging to Rev, I shut my eyes. “I just want to be done with it.”
Rev’s arm moves up to cover my ears before he fires a shot. There’s a splash of water against my legs as a body hits the water. No feeling of relief comes. No weight lifts off my chest.
I think I understand the inscription on Rev’s gun.
“Can you handle getting Forest back to Sinro?” Rev asks.
With a curt nod, I hurry over to collect Forest. He’s cold to the touch when I sling his arm over my shoulder to lift him. He mumbles angrily for me to leave him and go after my brother. Anger doesn’t come naturally to Forest, so I know we need to hurry.
“Is he in shock?” Worry bleeds into my tone.
Rev crouches down beside us, a hand gripping Forest’s chin to move it. “Looks like it.”
“Fucked up back…wasn’t enough…wants me to retire for good,” Forest mutters.
“You’re not old enough to retire,” Rev says.
“Feel old right about now,” Forest grumbles.
“’Tis a flesh wound.”
Forest snorts. “’Tis only my dominant arm, dickwad.”
“Learn to shoot with your left. Problem solved.”
I glance at Rev, wondering what I did wrong in this life to have deserved loving him.
Because I do. I love him. There’s no denying it. I’m terrified it’s going to hurt. Terrified one day it will be him bleeding out in my arms. This is his lifestyle. I can’t ask him to change who he is. I can’t ask him to stop saving people.
“Doc is on the nineteenth floor. Apartment C. He’ll be tending to your brother when you get there,” Rev says.
My heart stutters. “My brother’s there?”
“Cain found him. He’s racing him to Sinro now.”
Panic sinks its teeth deeper into me. If he’s being tended to by a doctor, that means he was hurt.
Fuck, I can’t freak out about that right now. Not when I’m literally holding Forest upright at the moment. I clamp down on my emotions and book it toward the tunnel exit.
Laz is strong. He’ll be okay. We’re álvarezes. We’re Papi’s sons.
I help Forest into the backseat of the SUV, where he sprawls out, a forearm resting over his eyes. The stench of our clothes outside the tunnels is enough for me to keep the windows rolled down, even with the chilled temperature, as I drive back to Sinro.
The chatter in my earpiece goes quiet. I’m assuming they have other channels and decided to give me the boot. I pull it out and toss it onto the console. It’s whatever. I don’t need to know what they get up to. It will only make me worry more.
Maybe my future is in racing Sinro mercenaries around.
The SUV drifts as I turn into Sinro’s parking garage. I park it right in front of the elevator doors and haul Forest inside. My foot taps impatiently as the stupid thing creeps too fucking slowly up the floors.
When we finally reach the nineteenth floor, I bang my fist on the door of apartment C.
A man with a stern expression answers and helps me carry Forest through a sparse, sterile white apartment that smells of sage.
There are no decorations or artwork. No color to the walls.
It’s as cold as the exterior of Sinro’s high-rise itself.
After we lay Forest out on the couch, the doctor cuts through his shirt with a pair of scissors.
“Bullet didn’t pass through.” He glances up at me. “You may not want to watch this. You can shower in the front bathroom. Your brother is in the bedroom beside it. Do not go in there until you are clean.”
His tone is so firm, I find myself nodding and moving for the bathroom. Once I close myself inside, I run through the mundane activity of washing. With each passing second, my adrenaline wanes, and that vast, cold emptiness in my chest yawns wider.
I don’t feel good. I don’t feel right.
Crouching down, I end up vomiting acid from my stomach. The water quickly washes it down the drain, but I still feel that sickness festering in my gut as the events from the night come rushing over me, flooding my brain with terror.
If not for the need to see my brother, I might have succumbed to it right there in the shower. Might have laid down and let the water run cold as it pounded down on my naked, trembling body.
But I force myself to climb out and towel off. Frowning at my lack of clean clothing, I crack the bathroom door, letting steam spill into the hallway. The doc appears seconds later with a handful of folded items.
“I’ve learned to keep spares,” he explains, showing me a T-shirt, boxers, and simple black pants.
“Um, thanks. How’s Forest?”
“Stable. Drugged. Sleeping now. Your brother’s going to sleep for a while, too.”
Clenching my teeth together, I slip back into the bathroom to dress. When I’m done, I cautiously move to the bedroom. I have to work up the courage to push open the door.
Laz is spread out on a plain bed. His head is bandaged up, along with his chest and the back of his hands. There’s an IV taped inside his elbow, hooked up to a bag of fluid dangling over the side table.
Tears blur my vision. I’m glad I didn’t find him in those tunnels. I don’t think I would have handled it well. I think I might have been driven to do something I’d regret in the end.
On a shaky exhale, I approach the bed and carefully tuck myself in beside Laz. His big body gives off a tremendous amount of heat, but it’s a comfort I haven’t let myself have since we were little kids.
My fingers find their way to his tight curls. When I push them off his forehead, they spring back into place.
Snuggling in closer, I shut my eyes and whisper, “Love you to the fucking moon, big bro.”