Moor (Twisted Bard)

Scene II

SCENE II

OTHELLO

O thello walked into The Mirage, ignored the patrons and staff, and headed straight to the storage room, where high and low shelves were filled with supplies and boxes stacked neatly against the walls. He locked the double door to ensure no one would interrupt him. Othello stood at the front of the room and tried to get into Roderigo's head. After leaving the docks, he’d walked to clear his head for a while before taking a cab to the club.

During his walk, curiosity got the better of him, and he played more of the recordings Emilia had given him. Othello had to admit the three men went to great lengths to kill him. When they couldn't get to him, they targeted his establishments, like the auction house.

Roderigo had given the cops information on the weapons he had hidden there, but it was all Iago's plan to have the cops raid the auction house. Ricci instructed the judge to sign off on the documents, and it didn't help that Detective Oz was on Greco's payroll. Othello had already suspected Ricci and Greco were gunning for his head. He never in a million years thought Iago was part of their pack.

He wasn’t sure how Emilia got the recordings without Iago catching her, but he was thankful she had. Iago, Roderigo, and Ricci were so confident that they even outlined their plan to kill Alessandro and Maria after finishing off Othello.

To be safe, Othello called the team assigned to his parents and instructed them to tighten security and keep their location confidential. If his parents asked, they were to say it was just a precaution. Othello knew he would have to call Alessandro and explain things, but he wasn’t ready.

Othello knew why Roderigo and the commission despised him but was at a loss about Iago. He loved Iago, the man he called brother, so much that he knew he would die for him. He scoffed and took a shaky breath to relieve his melancholy.

He couldn’t afford to break down again; right now, he needed to find the drugs and gold bars Roderigo bragged about. Othello's emotions were all over the place. He was missing Des, mad at himself for not noticing what was happening around him, and confused and unsure what he would do about Iago, but he was sure he would make the rest of them suffer.

Othello walked around the storage room and banged on the walls, wondering if he was losing his mind. However, he didn't stop, moving boxes and shelves out of the way and continuing to search. After moving at least twenty boxes, he reached the far end of the room and noticed something off about the wall. The room was painted gray, but this wall was a shade lighter.

He got the rest of the boxes out of the way, slid his fingers over the wall, and struck gold when he found a tiny button on the lower left side. Othello pressed it and watched as the wall slid open, where he encountered another door.

He almost gave Roderigo some credit for the ingenuity of the hidden switch, but he took it back when he saw the simple lock on the door. Othello scanned the storage room and smiled when he spotted a hammer.

"Someone is really looking out for me," Othello said to the empty room.

He grabbed the hammer, smashed the lock, and kicked the door in. Othello stepped inside, and the first thing he noticed was a pallet stacked with cash, making him wonder if it was counterfeit. He walked further inside and spotted the drugs on another pallet, with a few gold bars sitting on top of it.

A thought came to Othello, and he pulled out his cellphone and dialed Zoraki's number.

"What's up? Is it time for your execution?" Zoraki asked.

"Not for a couple more days," he answered. "Want to have some fun tonight?"

"What are you thinking?" Zoraki asked.

"I want to hire you and your men for a few jobs."

"I don't come cheap, my friend."

"I can match and triple your price," Othello said, looking at everything in the room.

"Alright, tell me what you want."

"First, I want you to pick someone up for me. I don't care what condition he's in; make sure he's alive when you get here. I'll send you the addresses." Othello hung up and texted Zoraki The Mirage's address, then cleared the club. Othello didn’t care about the money he would lose and wanted the club empty when Zoraki and his crew arrived.

Iago, Roderigo, and the commission planned to kill him in a few days; however, Othello would make sure they never got the chance, and the first person he'd start with was Roderigo.

A couple of hours later, Zoraki and his men showed up with Roderigo slung over one of Zoraki's men's shoulders. Roderigo was knocked out and dressed in nothing but his underwear.

"Was he any trouble?" Othello asked Zoraki.

"No more than the usual," Zoraki responded. "Where do you want him?"

"Come this way." Othello directed them to the storage room.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" Zoraki asked.

“Your questions will be answered soon. Have your man tie him to the chair,” Othello instructed.

Zoraki waved a hand, and his man did as he was told.

"Before I wake him up, have them bring everything out of the room." Othello pointed to the extra space, and Zoraki poked his head through the door and whistled. "It's all yours," he told Zoraki.

"Just for bringing a man to you? We should do business more often," Zoraki said.

"The job’s not over yet," Othello said.

Zoraki stared at him for a few seconds before nodding, then instructed his men to empty the room. While Zoraki and his crew worked, Othello sat in front of the still-unconscious Roderigo and watched more videos. He replayed a few of them repeatedly, ignoring the dialogue and keeping his eyes fixed on Iago’s face, searching for any signs that his brother was being forced into all of this. He still couldn’t comprehend that this was entirely Iago’s plan.

It was maybe one hour later when Zoraki told him everything was done. Othello nodded, stood, and, without warning, slapped Roderigo so hard it sounded like thunder cracking in the air.

"What the fuck?" Roderigo screamed, waking up.

"Nice of you to join us, Roderigo," Othello said, reclaiming his previous seat.

"Moor," Roderigo snarled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Setting up your death the same way you have been planning for mine," Othello drawled.

"My death. What are you talking about?" Roderigo cackled, but his laughter died down as he looked around, noticing where he was and what was surrounding him. "H—how? How did you find my secret room?"

"I'm the one asking questions," Othello said, bringing Roderigo's focus back to him. "I've told Iago and your father you were an idiot, and every time I give you the benefit of the doubt, you crush my expectations."

"Do you think I live to please you?" Roderigo snarled.

"No, I suppose I'm not the one you're trying to impress, but I bet all you got to do was suck his dick," Othello said.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Roderigo turned his gaze away, and Othello was sure he was close.

"My brother," he said. "How long have you been in love with him?"

"I'm..."

"Even when you're about to die, you deny it." Othello scoffed and took a shaky breath, trying to relieve the weight of his melancholy. "I guess I was an idiot to miss the signs. I knew he kept you around. Maybe your technique is that good, and he couldn't help himself." He gave a mocking smile. "We had the biggest argument when I came out of the closet. I thought the brotherhood we built from childhood was over. At least that would explain why he's trying to kill me, right? But to know that he's?—"

"We never, I mean, he's never… We've only shared partners," Roderigo whispered. "He doesn't see me that way and never will."

"But you want him to?" Othello said sympathetically.

Roderigo was silent, and Othello thought he would not answer. "I wish just once he'd notice me. See all the things I've been doing for him," he growled. "I know he doesn't care for me like I do for him, but he hates you to the core. I bet you want to know why."

Othello didn't respond.

"Look at you, all composed. Are you a man or a robot, Moor?" Roderigo snapped.

"How many of my people are loyal to Iago?" Othello asked, shutting down Roderigo's ramblings.

Roderigo didn't answer, and Othello looked at Zoraki, who got his message. Zoraki pointed to one of his men, who pulled out a gun with a silencer and shot Roderigo in the right leg, causing the man to scream bloody murder. No one moved to help him. Roderigo writhed and moaned in his chair as the scent of blood and burning flesh filled the room.

"I suggest you answer the question before you lose your other leg," Othello said. "How many of my men have gone over to Iago's side?"

Roderigo groaned in pain, and Othello grew impatient and annoyed the more time Roderigo took to answer.

“Why are you doing this?” Roderigo whimpered.

“You three sat around and plotted how to kill me, and you ask why?” Othello snarled.

“How did you find out?” Roderigo asked.

“Stop stalling and answer my question,” Othello snapped.

“Are you going to kill me?” Roderigo panted, sweat coating his face.

“Stupid question,” Othello said, rolling his eyes.

“Are you going to kill Iago?”

Roderigo asked the one thing he’d been wondering himself. It had been a couple of hours since Othello learned about Iago’s deceit, and he was still trying to wrap his head and heart around it.

“I don’t know,” Othello whispered, then stood, staring at Roderigo. “I planned on burning this place down with you in it since I know how much you love this place. But it was the drugs and money you had hidden that you cared about more. Too bad it’s no longer yours.”

“Moor, what are you planning? I’ll tell you, none. Not one of your men would side with Iago. They don’t trust him. Please don't kill me. I'll finally listen and stay away,” Roderigo shouted, but Othello ignored him and looked at Zoraki.

“I don’t care how you do it; just make sure it’s nice and clean,” he told Zoraki. “His father won’t care that he’s dead. His mother, on the other hand, is a different story.”

Othello walked away, ignoring Rodrigo shouting his name. He then walked out of the storage room and over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. He picked it up to drink it but growled angrily and threw his glass across the room just as Zoraki walked over to the bar. Othello was angry with himself. He wanted to feel some joy in torturing and killing Roderigo, but he felt unsatisfied and empty.

“It’s hard when those closest to you betray you,” Zoraki said. “What’s harder is knowing that you can’t let him live.”

Othello knew what Zoraki said was the truth. He couldn’t let Iago live. He was about to say something when his cellphone vibrated. Pulling it from his jacket pocket, his brows furrowed when he saw Iago's name on the screen. He gasped, staring at the screen, unsure of what to do. His thumb trembled as he hesitated before he connected the call.

“Yeah,” he answered, his throat scratchy and tight.

“O, I need your help,” Iago said hurriedly.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“It’s Emilia. She didn’t come home. I called her phone, but it kept going to voicemail. Fuck, O, I think something might have happened to Emilia and the twins. I need you to help me find them.”

Othello was a little shocked by the worry in Iago’s voice. It was as if he really loved her.

“Didn’t you say she went to see a friend?”

“Yeah, but that was hours ago. She should have been home already.”

“Did you call the friend she went to see?”

“I—I don’t know who she was with. I actually don’t know any of her friends.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Othello cursed, closing his eyes, not meaning to voice his thoughts. Emilia was right; the man knew nothing about the woman he had claimed to love for many years.

“Wait. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Othello told him.

“Why can’t you come now?” Iago asked.

“I’m tied up with something.”

Iago was silent for a few seconds. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

“What if I am?” Othello said.

“After what he did, you ran back to the fucking whore."

"Watch your fucking mouth, Iago!" Othello growled.

"Fuck, forget it. I don’t need your fucking help. I’ll call Roderigo. At least I know I can count on him.”

Othello hung up, and a drink was pushed into his face. Othello took it, and this time, he didn’t throw it and downed it in one clip, hissing at the burn.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Othello told Zoraki. “Even now, Iago calls me asking for help, and instead of telling him to fuck off, I can’t stop myself from going to his aid.”

“You don’t have to kill him right away, but know the longer you wait, the more you will be looking over your shoulder. You’re in a rough spot, Othello. One I wouldn’t want to be in.”

Tears threatened to fall, but Othello blinked them away. Othello reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the club. “Lock up for me,” he said, throwing them on the bar top and then walking out of The Mirage. He hailed a cab and gave him the address to the only place he knew he could feel normal. Thirty minutes later, he knocked on Des’s door and pulled the man into his arms the second he opened it. He felt like he was home for the first time since finding everything out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Des’s ear, holding him tightly.

“I know,” Des said. “You came back to me, and that’s all that matters.”

Des snuggled closer to Othello, listening to his every breath. They hadn't said another word since Othello showed up on his doorstep. After his talk with Gray, Des had put it in his mind that he wouldn't see Othello because his lover would sink into a dark place, so he was surprised when the gentle knock came at his door well after midnight.

"You're going to leave me again, aren't you?" Des said, closing his eyes.

"I don't want to, but I need to."

Des sat up and looked at him. "Can't you tell me what happened?"

Othello cupped his face, staring into his eyes. "I want you to leave town for a while."

"N—"

Othello cut him off. "Don't argue with me right now, Des."

"I know you feel the need to help me, even though you know nothing about what's going on."

"I know some. Gray told me. I know he works for you. I'm still not sure how I feel about that, but I'll deal with it later. But you have to let me help you."

"You can do that by listening to me," Othello told him. "I don't know what will happen in the next couple of days, but it will take a load off my shoulders, knowing they can't get to me by using you."

"I want to cry and pout, but deep down, I know you're right. But I will do as you ask. It’s the grown-up thing to do, right? It's going to be a lonely trip."

"Why don't you take your mother?"

Des sighed. "My mom has decided to go back to work at the hospital. She said it was time for her to shake up the staff."

Des recalled the look of glee in Ava's eyes when she said those words, which he had to admit scared him a bit. But he knew a certain doctor was about to be jobless.

"What about your friends?"

"Bianca had to leave for a trip. Erin's busy sifting through the information to take my father down and help my mom with her divorce. And I know Gray's going to be with you."

"I don't want anyone to know about Gray yet, so I'll send him to protect you," Othello said, getting out of bed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He leaned down and kissed Des deeply. "Everything I have now belongs to you, Tesoro."

Des wrapped his arms around Othello's neck and pulled him down on top of him. "I won't forgive you if you die."

Othello tightened his arms around Des, not responding. They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Othello kissed him again, leaving with more than just Des's heart.

Othello opened the door to Iago's home. When he stepped inside, he didn't expect to see the house in disarray, as if there had been a home invasion, but his instincts told him it was Iago's doing. He closed the door and followed the trail of torn paper, broken furniture, thrown clothes, and other things to the twins' bedroom, where he found Iago sitting in a corner with a piece of paper between his fingers, staring out the window.

"You warned me, didn't you?" Iago said, not looking at him. "You told me to pay attention, to stop cheating, to get my shit together, or one day, Emilia would leave me. Why is it you're always fucking right? Why can't you be wrong for one damn time in your life?!"

"Don't blame me for your fuck-up," Othello growled.

"Do you know where she is?" Iago asked, glaring at him.

"No."

"Are you lying to me?" Iago asked.

"I can't believe you just fucking asked me that," Othello snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Iago shouted.

"Do you hate me, Iago?" Othello blurted, getting right to the point. Othello hadn't planned on bringing things up, but since he threw it out there, depending on Iago's answer, he knew what he would do.

"What the fuck are you asking me?" Iago said.

"Answer my damn question. Do you see me as your brother? Would you still take a bullet for me? Would you stay by my side and stand against the world that would want to tear us apart?"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? My woman just took off with my children to god knows where, and you're asking me if I would die for you. I knew you were selfish, but this is too much, even for you."

Othello looked down and let Iago's words wash over him. Iago couldn't answer the question. Othello knew that if he were asked, the answer would be yes; there would be no hesitation. Othello mentally shook his head and realized he had been a fucking fool.

He'd put so much blind trust in Iago, for the man to use it against him. Othello knew that Iago could be calculating and sneaky, but that was always used against the ones they saw as rivals. Othello never thought Iago would count as one of the enemies, or maybe he did, and he pushed the thought down deep inside that he was easy to play with.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head and looked at Iago. "Emilia's not coming back, Iago, and you must deal with what you've done. You didn't give a fuck about her when she was here, and now you want to wallow in your damn guilt."

"Fuck you, Othello," Iago roared and rushed toward him, but Othello blocked him with a hard kick to the stomach, pushing him back and to the ground.

Othello looked at Iago with disgust. "I’m meeting with the commission in two days. You can stand by my side as my brother or face me as my enemy. The choice is up to you, Iago." With that, Othello walked out of the house, stood at the front door, and noticed the sun was peeking through the horizon.

Othello was exhausted. Other than the time he spent with Des, he hadn't gotten any sleep, and he still wouldn't be able to until it was all over. His cellphone vibrated, and he looked at the screen, seeing a text from Zoraki telling him that Roderigo's body was taken care of and wouldn't be found for a few days. And that he was waiting for Othello's following instructions. He pocketed his phone and walked to his car. He had plans to make.

Two days later, at eight in the evening, Othello pulled his car up to the Black Anchor warehouse. He got out of the car, but before he could close the door, Tallen joined him on his left, along with a few others, leaving the right side where Iago usually stood empty.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked, having never told them what was going on.

"Boss, did you really think we would allow you to enter the lion's den alone?" Tallen said.

“How did you find out?” Othello asked.

“Consig Iago called us all together and told us what was happening,” he explained. “Boss, why didn’t you tell us? Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

“I didn’t want to involve you,” he said.

“We’re a family,” Tallen responded. “When one walks into the fire, we all jump in.”

Othello chuckled and shook his head. Tallen’s analogy was a bit suicidal, but he had a point.

“Whatever happens today, we’re all a family,” Othello said. “No matter what.”

“He’s right,” a voice on his right said.

“You came.” Othello looked at Iago.

Iago nodded. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

The doors groaned on their hinges, slicing through the chatter like a blade. The sudden silence inside the warehouse hit hard, an unsettling lull that hung in the thick, dimly lit air as Othello and his crew stepped in. Every eye followed them, but the room was as still as prey holding its breath.

Tallen’s voice shattered the quiet like glass. "Fuck, who beat the shit out of Underboss Ricci?" His words, sharp and unapologetically loud, echoed in the cavernous space. It should’ve been a whisper. It wasn’t.

A few uneasy glances darted around, but the tension didn’t crack. It only deepened.

Tito, young and far too reckless for his rank, snickered. "Yeah, didn’t anyone teach him to duck?"

The suffocating tension in the room twisted tighter, but Othello allowed himself a rare grin. It was slow and challenging, spreading wide across his face for the first time in days. Ricci’s icy glare locked onto him, only making him smile wider. Othello knew he irritated Ricci more. However, that momentary flash of amusement didn’t dull the knife-edge of danger that lurked beneath it all.

Ricci’s growl cut through the moment, pulling the focus back to him. "Let’s get started," he snapped, forcing himself into his seat at the head of the table, flanked by Greco and the conspicuously empty chair meant for his ever-absent brother.

Othello didn’t bother to sit. Instead, he tilted his head toward his men. The subtle gesture was enough. All except Iago moved to take positions around the room, standing as sentinels, backs straight, eyes sharp. The message was clear: We’re ready for anything. It made Othello feel proud.

Ricci sneered. “I see where your people get their manners from, Moor."

Othello’s lips twitched, but Greco’s impatient voice cut through before he could reply. "Don’t start," he muttered, his fingers drumming on the table. "I’ve got shit to do after this."

The air was thick with unspoken threats, barely restrained violence simmering just beneath the surface. Othello’s grin faded, and the tension sharpened, poised to break at the slightest spark.

"Fine." Ricci gathered a stack of paper. "Moor, you have declined to invite Don Alessandro to this meeting; instead, you will have your consigliere to stand at your side. Is that correct?"

"Yes." Othello wasn't sure why Ricci was stating the obvious.

Othello wished they didn't need to be so formal, but he understood that this was Ricci's twisted form of payback. How utterly ridiculous.

"You are charged with the unsanctioned killing of Don Julian Falcon, an ally of the commission. How do you plead?" Ricci continued, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

Othello clenched his fists. "Why don’t you drop the theatrics and get to the heart of it? We all know you don't give a damn that Falcon is dead. This is your way of trying to humiliate me in front of my men."

Ricci merely smirked, the satisfaction in his eyes unmistakable. "Fine. As for your crimes, we are demoting you from your esteemed position as don to that of a footsoldier—where you will never rise in rank."

The moment Ricci said the words, shouts and sneers erupted in the warehouse, drowning out anything else he had to say. Othello's gaze darted to Iago, whose slight smile flickered and vanished, replaced with a mask of neutrality.

Hope had abandoned their relationship long ago. He turned to Greco, who was banging the gavel with increasing desperation, trying to restore order to the escalating chaos. Othello's men were restless, some brandishing their weapons, their anger palpable in the air.

"Quiet!" Othello commanded, his voice sharp enough to slice through the clamor. Instantly, the room fell into a tense silence, a fragile calm that only heightened the anticipation. He turned his eyes back to Ricci and Greco, who wore expressions of disbelief and irritation, unaware of the storm brewing for them by night’s end.

"You may continue," Othello said, a hint of challenge in his tone.

"As of today, the new head of the Romano family is Iago Romano," Greco declared, his voice steady yet electrifying. "Do you accept the position, Iago Romano?"

“Does this make you happy, Iago?” Othello's heart raced as he looked at Iago. The looming question hung thick in the air, charged with unspoken stakes and impending betrayal.

“Why would you ask me that, O?” Iago asked, his eyes wide.

“You can cut the fucking act,” Othello said as he looked at Greco and Ricci. “It would have been more believable if you had ordered him to kill me.”

“Who said they have to order me to do anything?” The clicking sound made Othello look at Iago, who had his gun aimed at Othello’s head. At a quick glance around the room, Othello saw his men outnumbered and outgunned by the Ricci and Greco family.

“So you decided to drop the act,” Othello said, settling his gaze on Iago.

“I was getting tired of playing the good little sidekick,” Iago replied.

“I see,” Othello sighed, his voice heavy with sorrow. “You played me for a fool, Iago. I put my trust in you—above everyone else.”

“When did you figure it out?” Iago's voice dripped with malice, eyes narrowing.

“Two days ago,” Othello replied, each word edged with betrayal. “I had an unsettling conversation with someone just before they left town. You’ve not only burned bridges but shattered hearts. I warned you to treat her right. A woman scorned, Iago. You should know better.”

Iago’s fury erupted in a primal growl. In an instant, he threw his gun to the side and lunged, delivering a vicious punch to Othello’s face. “You bastard!” he barked, gripping Othello by the jacket lapels, keeping him from collapsing. “Tell me where Emilia and my twins are!”

“No,” Othello snapped back, his rage igniting as he shoved Iago away. “You don’t deserve her! Just as you don’t deserve to be the head of this family!”

“How dare you say that?” Iago shouted, his voice cracking with fury.

“You have some fucking nerve,” Othello roared, not hiding his anger. “After everything Maria and Alessandro have done for you, after they’ve given you a home and love, you turn your back and join the enemy?”

“Love?” Iago spat, dark eyes blazing. “What love did I ever get from them? It was you. Always you! They never wanted me. No one wanted me. You’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye since our days at Willow-Brook. Do you know what it’s like to be compared to you? It made me feel less than human. Do you want to know when my hatred for you began, Othello? I overheard Maria and Alessandro deciding whether to adopt us or just you. But deep down, they knew you wouldn’t go without me. Your little tagalong , right? I despise them just as much as I hate you.”

Othello was surprised to hear that, but his expression was firm, masking the turmoil inside.

“I did everything I could to please Alessandro, to show him I could be a worthy heir, but it was a lost cause. He had already decided. You were the golden child, and I was left to stand by your side, bearing it all. It’s fucking humiliating, and I refuse to be anyone’s second choice.”

A gasp echoed in the warehouse; Othello had forgotten that he and Iago weren’t alone. Othello stared at Iago, wondering if he had ever truly known the man he’d called brother. Othello couldn’t say that he hated Iago even now, with death looming over his head.

“I forgive you,” Othello said, breaking one of his own codes.

“I don’t want your fucking forgiveness,” Iago sneered.

“Then what do you want?” he said, completely exhausted in mind, body and soul.

“To erase you from existence,” Iago said.

“I can’t let you kill me, Iago. Because, unlike you, I have someone who truly loves me and whom I love back.”

“Oh, are you talking about your whore? Don’t worry. He’ll be joining you right after I put a bullet through your skull.”

Othello furrowed his brows, hearing the threat against Des. “What did you do?”

“I’m glad you asked. You see, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go, so I brought some insurance. To think, your own lover is fucking a cop right under your nose. Bring him in!”

A door opened in the far back of the warehouse, and a large man walked in, dragging a reluctant Des into the room. Des had tape covering his mouth, and his hands were tied behind his back. He looked scared but unharmed, which was a good thing, but Othello knew if he kept his lover here for too long, he might get hurt.

“Iago, what the fuck are you doing? Des isn’t a part of our fight!” Othello growled.

“He became part of it when he got mixed up with you. I tell you he’s fucking a cop, and you don’t even flinch.”

Othello ignored Iago and looked at Des, who was shaking his head vigorously, struggling to escape his captor, his eyes wide with fear glaring back at him. Why is he here? Why didn’t he get out of town like I told him to? Fuck, where the hell is Gratiano?

"You have broken my heart, Iago! You’ve torn our relationship apart, and despite that, I was ready to forgive you. But dragging Des into this? That’s something I will never let go! If one hair on his head is harmed, I will kill you all."

"You and what army?" Iago scoffed, then boasted. "Look around, O, you're outgunned and outnumbered."

Othello quirked a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

A sharp whistle pierced the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. For a single, heart-stopping moment, everyone froze. Then nothing—silence, thick and suffocating. Relief washed over Iago’s face, his lips curling into a smug grin.

“You had me there for a minute,” Iago laughed, glancing at Cassio. “Cassio, the whore is yours, a token of thanks for your help in making today happen.” His voice oozed with cruelty, the words sharp enough to sting. But before the moment could settle, the ceiling exploded into shards of glass.

Chaos detonated like a bomb in the warehouse. Armed men swarmed the room, gunfire erupting like a violent storm. The once-solid ground turned into a battlefield.

Othello was too far away to get to Des, and his breath caught in his chest. He relaxed somewhat when he spotted Zoraki’s figure, who had landed next to Des and the man holding him hostage. “Zoraki, get Des out of here!” Othello shouted, his voice barely rising above the roar of bullets and fighting, but he was glad the man heard him. Zoraki took down Des’s captor and got Des out of the chaotic warehouse.

While everyone else was distracted, Othello stepped forward, a growl tearing from his throat as he landed a vicious punch to Iago’s face. Iago stumbled back, shocked by the sudden attack, but Othello didn’t let up. Blow after blow, he drove Iago back, away from the bullets, away from everything. Each hit reverberated with rage and hurt from Iago’s betrayal.

“Never call my lover a whore,” Othello snarled, slamming his fist into Iago’s ribs. Iago gasped, struggling to regain his footing.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Iago countered, fighting back more fervently.

“You fucking caused this shit, Iago,” Othello said, raw emotions building inside of him.

“You brought backup?” Iago spat, blood dripping from his split lip. They traded blows like old times, as if locked in some twisted memory. “What? Don’t you trust your own men?”

Othello grinned, his face twisted in mockery. “Who said they’re not my men? Your boy toy Roderigo paid for them without even knowing it. How could you use him like that? I might have hated the guy, but I wouldn’t have given him false hope. You’re fucking disgust me, Iago.”

The jab hit Iago hard. His eyes flared with rage as he swung back, landing a punch square in Othello’s stomach. “Did you kill him? I never used him. Anything he did for me was of his own will.”

Before Othello could respond, an animalistic roar ripped through the chaos.

“Moor! You bastard, I’m going to kill you!” Cassio’s voice ripped through the room, his eyes wild as he charged toward them, gun raised. Othello’s blood turned to ice. “This is for my lover.” Time seemed to slow as Cassio squeezed the trigger, the gun kicking back with each shot. Othello wanted to move—he needed to—but his legs felt rooted to the ground. A million scenarios flashed through his mind in that split second—if he could just dive for the gun at his feet, if he could just find cover—anything.

But none of that mattered.

Before Othello could react, Iago stepped in front of him. The bullet tore through Iago’s chest, the impact sending both men crashing to the floor.

“No!” Othello’s scream echoed in his ears as the world snapped back into harsh focus. He knelt beside Iago, panic clawing at his throat as blood bloomed through Iago’s shirt, staining the white fabric with a dark, spreading circle.

“Why can’t you just die already?!” Cassio’s enraged shout barely registered as Othello grabbed the gun he’d seen moments before. In a blind fury, he fired round after round, the recoil jerking his arm back as the bullets found their mark. Cassio staggered, his body jerking with each hit before collapsing to his knees.

"Fuck," he gasped, and fell forward, lifeless.

The room fell eerily quiet except for Iago's faint gasps.

“Iago, stay with me!” Othello pleaded, his hands shaking as he pressed down on the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and terrifying. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

Iago’s breath came in ragged, shallow gulps, his once-confident expression now contorted with pain. He coughed, blood staining his lips. “O, I… ”

Othello’s heart twisted, tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with Iago’s blood. “Save your breath,” he said hoarsely, choked up with emotions. “You’re not allowed to die. Do you hear me? I won’t forgive you if you leave me.”

“S-stubborn to the end,” Iago panted, blood filling his mouth as he tried to force a smile. “Tell S-sandro Ma—Maria, sorry.”

“Tell them yourself, you bastard,” but as he said the words, he could see Iago’s eyes fading, his grip on life slipping. Othello did not want to admit it, but Iago wouldn’t make it. “No,” Othello cried.

“I love her,” he panted. “Take care of them.” Othello nodded as Iago struggled, lifting one of his hands. Othello caught it and brought it to his cheek. “I’m sorry.” With those words, Iago closed his eyes and died.

Othello pulled Iago to his chest as a gut-wrenching cry erupted from deep within his soul. He didn’t care who was watching. He felt more pain than the burning sting in his side. The only pain he could feel was the ache in his chest that felt as if it was going to explode. His brother was gone, and no one could bring him back. He held Iago, crying and letting out all of his pain until his world went dark.