Veiled Calls at Twilight

1. Nicu

1

NICU

T he echo of his screams against the impenetrable gray stone walls was like white noise to my ears. The musky, thick stench of old and new blood had clung to the walls like a second skin, making my lip curl in disgust. My younger brother truly enjoyed his work and got excited by it, but for me, it was just a necessary byproduct of the job, even if it was a bit messy for my taste. I was so used to it that I scrolled through emails from the shell company I created to cover up some of our seedier activities. It took more brain power to handle regular, average citizen employees than the thugs I commanded.

“P-p-please. I t-t-told y-o-u-you ev-v-everything.”

Standing next to the solid steel dungeon door in my Armani suit, I made sure not to touch anything inside this cesspool. My youngest brother had cared little for cleanliness. Flicking my gaze up, I saw my blood-drenched brother smiling wide with a crimson hammer in his hand. Even under the fluorescent lighting, his bright green eyes shone with mirth, and his body vibrated excitedly. A loud clunk sounded as he dropped the hammer onto his metal tray of tools, causing the man hanging in front of him to flinch.

Cezar tilted his head to the side, dirty blonde hair fell, barely covering his eyes as he whispered to himself. “Lies. Lies, Cal says. What a naughty, naughty doggie. Always his tail wagging, but as soon as the food settled, he wags it for the busy bees as well.”

He cackled up into the sky, laughing so loud it was hard to take your eyes off him, but that's when he was the deadliest. Not a second later, a knife sliced right through the victim's thigh. His screams turned blood-curdling, and Cezar’s eyes turned into slits. “They tell me you have more thinking to do. Tick tok. Do you want to think without your cock?”

His eyes met mine, widening for a second like he realized I was here before his whole body straightened. He smiled wide, blood dripping off him like he was swimming, and I frowned. He better not try it . His arms went wide, taking steps towards me as his voice called out in surprise. “Big brother! Who knew you would grace me with a visit.”

Narrowing my eyes on him, I warned him, “If you try to hug me with that filth all over you, I’ll knock you out and leave you down here.”

Cezar’s smile widened, even though he stopped his advancement, knowing I meant every word I said. He giggled out, “It wouldn’t be the first time….” He jumped to the side of me and laid his face against the dirty stone wall. “But this place loves me. I would sleep like a pretty little kitten,” he settled his forehead against the wall, whispering to the wall, “You love me don't you, my cold hard love,” caressing the grooves in the wall like they were lovers.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Patience . I told myself I needed to have patience with my psychotic brother. Reminding myself it was beyond his control, but a part of me scoffed at it when he smiled so widely as he gutted the man.

It's because you failed him as a big brother. Taking a shaky breath, a flashback to that night came forward. The bone-chilled air, the loud pop-pops of the gun, the creak of the shipping container closing. Pushing those thoughts away, I reminded myself I was just a kid when it happened; how could I have known this would be his outcome?

Shoving my hand through my hair, I shoved those unhelpful thoughts aside, and I faced him, making my voice deep and firm. “Cezar, did you get anything?”

He didn’t look at me; his eyes were still closed against the wall. “Nothing you’re looking for… but Nan said he’ll break soon; he just needs time to think.”

It used to be hard for me to take him seriously when he talked about the voices in his head, but I had to admit that the percentage of times they were wrong was low, which made it hard not to believe them. I was about to ask him when she thought this man would break since I had a meeting in a few hours, but my phone rang.

Cezar immediately stood straight, his eyes glued to my pocket like it had a monster in it. Taking it out, I glanced at the caller ID, and my insides clenched. “You shouldn’t ignore the monster when he calls,” he whispered, his voice holding an eerie tone, void of any feelings. “He only gets hungrier…” he stopped for a second, pulled out his knife, and started sharpening it, whistling some upbeat song. He was right, though, like always, it was our monster calling.

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I gripped the phone, bringing it up to my ear, “Father.”

“Why did it take you so long to pick up?” Mashing my teeth together, I waited for the rest. “I didn't raise you to be an imbecile, right? Slow? Dimwitted? No, not my fucking son!” Closing my eyes and tightening my jaw, my blood ran cold. There I was again, a boy standing in front of his desk, being torn apart from the inside out, absorbing all his hate and vile words. It was okay as long as I was the one between him and them. That was my role in this life.

A cry erupted from the other side of the room, bringing me out of my head and back to the present. Looking to the side, I saw my brother standing over the man in chains. His whole body was shaking, like he was barely keeping himself in check, before he looked at me over his shoulder, giving me a nod before he hit him again.

“Oh, you're with your brother.” I could almost hear my father massaging his temples at the thought of dealing with Cezar. Father always sent him away on another mission instead of dealing with him, but he never wanted to be accountable for making him this way.

Nodding to Cezar in thanks, I focused on my Father. “Cezar is interrogating the snitch before I head into the meeting with the Vipers to negotiate the deal.” This was a deal I’d been personally working on for months. A new pipeline for military-grade vehicles, diversifying our portfolio. It had the potential to make us millions.

“Send Garo. I need you and your brothers to come to me immediately.”

Garo . My whole body seized up. Send fucking Garo?! That two-bit thug that doesn't know the difference between a show of force and all-out war? My veins surged with magma, thawing out the ice mask I'd built over the years. I’d worked hard for months to get this meeting, to make sure we would come out on top, and even put pressure on the right leaders to make them bow down to us, and now he wants me to send Garo!

It took all my strength to keep my voice level. This was not the time to freak out and get him even more mad, not when this deal was almost complete. “If I cou-”

His booming voice took over the speakers. “Get your brothers and come here now! That’s an order!” The phone went dead, leaving a thick silence in its wake, and I could almost feel his rage through the line.

The muscles in my neck twitched as I gritted my teeth. Everything inside me screamed to tear everything down, to pull the whole world apart, and to let it all crumble underneath my feet. Then I looked at my brother, his eyes shifting around like he didn't know what to do or say. Lost.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself why I couldn’t tear it down. Why did I have to be a good son? This is your role, Nicu. You’re the oldest. The next in line. I was expected to keep it together… for them. For everyone.

Grabbing the handle of the dungeon door, I forced myself to take a breath. “Let’s go. We need to get Ion.”

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Cezar hesitate, his foot shifting toward me before returning to where he stood. “Cal doesn't like this, but Nan says we need to go.”

I turned to face him, shoving down the side of me that hated myself for my next words, for taking this moment to manipulate my brother. Was I just as sickening as Father? No. I did this for my brothers, and my Father cared for no one but himself. “And what does M say?”

His eyes flew to mine, wide and shaky, fear creeping in at the edges—an expression he only ever had when his third voice was mentioned. He licked his lips before staring off, saying in a deadened tone, “It's time. She said it’s time.”

It was a fifty-fifty shot whenever I brought up his third voice. Either he’d fly off the handle, disappearing into a violent bender for days, or he’d become consumed with fear—more straightforward to control. This time, it worked in my favor. “Then we need to do it, don’t we? Two against one.”

His face transformed before my eyes, and his posture straightened as a grin spread wide. “Two against one makes all the fun.”

Turning around, I yanked open the door. “Plus, it seems our guest needs some time to think anyway.”

Cezar flicked his wrist, a flash of silver gleaming as bright as his smile. He threw his arm toward the man hanging. The chains clanked as the man flinched, his cry echoing around the room as Cezar’s switchblade sunk into his thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. Cezar pointed at the man, his voice low and serious. “Don’t lose that. The spirits of the dead are watching you.”

The guy whimpered, and Cezar flicked his hand at him before turning around to give me an exasperated look. “Work can be so taxing some days, ya know?”

I didn’t have time to babysit him anymore. “Let’s go,” I said, walking out the door and down the dungeon hallway. When I reached my car, I turned to see Cezar following me, his face, hands, and front covered in blood spatters.

Shifting my eyes to my car, then back to him, my jaw tightened. I didn’t want to get my car detailed again because of him. Grabbing a towel from the trunk, I threw it at him. “Set that down first.”

His smile turned feral. “Are you scared of a little blood, big brother?”

My whole body tightened, fingers itching to grab my gun at my waist and put him down. If he were anyone else, I would’ve. No one teased me and lived—no one but my brothers. I forced a breath out, pushing my anger down. Reminding myself that he was my little brother, and I didn’t want to hurt my little brother… much. Yanking the door open, I rolled my eyes and got in, not saying a word.

He laughed, did as I said, and set the towel down before climbing in. He reached out. "Ooooh, you always have such shiny things?—"

I smacked his hand away from my new gold inlay interior. “No touching.”

Raising his hands, he giggled. “Sure, sure. The prince needs his treasures to remain unspoiled. Unclean am I, and therefore unworthy.”

Turning away from him, I started the car and headed toward the city center, not speaking the rest of the way. Verbally sparring with Cezar was like navigating a minefield, and I didn’t have the energy for it.

The club's music vibrated along the asphalt and up my leg before we reached the door.

A deep frown marred Cezar's ordinarily jovial face. “I hate this place. Bugs and maggots... and not the good kind.”

Cezar was right. This place was vile—filled with liars, cheats, and cowards. Wrap that all up with drugs and booze, and it’s a cesspool for decrepit creatures who come out at night looking for prey. My youngest brother and I were the ones people feared and felt intimidated by—the next head of the family with a steel-cold heart and an iron fist or the psycho, blood-soaked executioner who enjoyed the pain he inflicted. But Ion was different. People gravitated to him naturally. He was the sweet talker, the master of whispers, the attractive smiling one who gave others a false sense of ease. The one you never thought would stab you in the back.

A hush fell over the people in line at the door, causing the security guard to look up just in time to scramble. His shaky voice followed, “W-w-welcome, Sirs. It’s an honor.”

Neither Cezar nor I acknowledged the man, walking past him as if he didn’t exist—because he didn’t, not in our world. Here, in the northern territory of Armenia, the Azadian family ruled the underground with an iron fist. No one sold drugs, guns, or girls here without our permission. No one.

The smell of sweat, sex, and desperation assaulted my nostrils. This was one of our territory's more prominent money-making clubs, bringing in more of the higher clientele, which meant more deals happened here. It was a hybrid mix of a strip club and a dance club, attracting mid-level money-makers. If you were truly rich, you had no reason to leave your home for drinking, company, or drugs.

Music blasted into my eardrums, and my whole face clenched. So fucking noisy. Prickles began to skate up and down my arms, fingers twitching. The smell of perfume and sex overpowered the space, making it hard to breathe. Pushing myself forward, we walked through the dark hallway lit up with red lights and overly sexual pictures on the walls. Girls with horns and tails doing every unsavory thing you could imagine. All of this was to give you the illusion that you're now in hell and anything was possible, but all I saw was a desperate grab for attention, which bored me.

I puffed out a laugh at the absurd thoughts of these people and how they played with the idea of hell. They tried to make it exotic and exuberant when they knew nothing of absolute hell. Flashes of sprayed blood filled my vision, her body being dragged. I was forged in it, lived it, breathed it in so fully that I was now numb to horrors that were always present when in hell. These foul deviants knew nothing.

Cezar's audible groan sounded beside me when we reached the main room. “Can I just stay outside?”

“No,” I snapped at him as I scanned the room for our brother. Cezar knew that this would go faster if we both approached him. Ion would be a pain in the ass if it were just one of us, arguing that he never interrupted our business, but if we both were here, then he would know it was on Father's demand, and he was not to be left waiting.

A few scantily clad people turned at the sound of my voice, eyes going wide when they saw us. They rushed to shove others aside, whispering in each other's ears as they made a walkway for us. Being known as the intimidating Azadian brothers who could ruin your life or take it gave us this advantage, and I would use it to the fullest.

At a clipped pace, we entered the back VIP area. The large velvet-covered booths were in a dim setting, roped off from the general public with guards posted. Ansee, one of the guards, worked for us and was one of our plants in this club. He nodded at me as he opened the ropes for us right away.

“And another to your health and mine!”

There was my brother, two half-naked women draped next to him, pawing all over him, as he lifted his glass with Navier Zakarian, his counterpart in the Zakarian family who runs the central territory. Only three families ran the various underground workings of Armenia: the Hovsepians in the south, the Zakarians in the central, and the Azadians in the north. All three are kept together by one shaky treaty that we try to keep going to prevent massive bloodshed.

They clinked glasses, lifting them high as they drained every last drop. Navier spotted me through the bottom of his glass and quickly put it down. “I didn't know your brothers were joining us. If I knew, I would’ve had more girls come.” He looked around at the eight women circling the two of them, “I don’t think we have enough, but I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” He winked at me with his stupid, idiotic grin, and I crossed my arms.

Ion swiveled our way. His clouded eyes bounced between Cezar and me, opening his mouth to yell out something in his high, drunken state, but I beat him to the punch. “We’ve been summoned.”

My words rocked him back in his seat, looking down in his lap. The two women started cooing beside him, snaking their arms around his as they told him everything would be okay. “Get off me,” he yelled, yanking his arms away from them before grabbing a glass of water off the table and downing it in one gulp.

Navier did the only smart thing he could and shooed the women away. They would only put themselves in danger if they were around us now. He would not be playing the playboy role; he needed to play the dutiful son role, and for that, he needed to be sober.

“Here, take a bump of this.” Navier’s jovial attitude grated on my brain. “It’ll clear you up right as rain.” He passed a metal circular tube to my brother, who opened it, shook some fine white powder onto his thumb, and sniffed it. I wanted to tell him to stop, not to muddle his mind with that shit, but we didn't have the time to fight about this again. Being high was the only way Ion could deal with… everything.

It was my fault he was like this anyway. I’m never able to help the ones who matter to me.

Turning away from him, the air circling us left a bad taste in my mouth, and I didn’t want to stay there any longer. “Let's go.”

“Maybe you need a little of this,” Ion called out to my back. The venom in his voice could be heard from a mile away.

Looking over my shoulder, I watched him smooth out his suit, glaring at me like I was the one who ruined all his fun tonight. Turning, I gave him my full attention, letting him know I wouldn't back down. Sometimes, I think he forgot that this was just his job. Not how he’d wanted to live his life, but then I reminded myself that we didn't get to live the lives we wanted. That was the reality of our situation.

“Or maybe you need a little less.” Running my tongue along my teeth, I realized I was done with the conversation. I stalked off ahead, I was ready to rid myself of this place and my brothers, who constantly reminded me of my failures.

When the open air hit my face, I closed my eyes and repeated the words engraved in my soul. Never again. I won’t fail them ever again, even if it's from themselves. My brothers were all I had in this world, and I wasn't about to lose them either.

“Don’t mind him, brother.” Cezar set his hand on my shoulder. Cracking my eyes, I glared at the sticky, bloody hand on my new suit. He winced, taking his hand off as he continued. “He’s just a lost little puppy, but we’ll soon find his leash. I can feel it in the air.” He lifted his hand and twirled his fingers like he was playing with some malleable thing. “Can’t you?” His deep green eyes flared bright underneath the moonlight, reminding me of his mother as he smiled.

“What does the old man want now?” Ion’s cranky voice sounded next to me before he leaned over and whispered, “What the fuck is Cezar doing?”

“Feeling the winds of your leash tightening like sand slipping through the hourglass of fate.” Ion and I leaned over to look at Cezar, questioning his sanity when he laughed, “Let's hope your brokenness won’t ruin it.”

Ion’s hand flew to his chest, his face outraged by the thought before barking out, “My brokenness? Don’t you mean-”

“Nope. I’m already perfect and ready. You two have a lot of work to do.” My eyes bore into the back of his head as he stalked off to the car, whistling.

Ion took a cigarette out, lit it up, and shook his head, “And he thinks we’re the looney ones.”

Snatching the cigarette out of his mouth, I threw it on the ground. He protested, but I’ve had enough of his sass today. “No smoking in my car.”

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll just take-”

“Get in my car,” I finished before stepping off the curb. Father only liked it when we all saw him at the same time. Taking one car was the only way to ensure that. My brothers were my responsibility.

Ion’s steps followed mine, like I knew he would, as he grumbled about me being a tyrant of a brother. Cezar was already in the car, touching god knows what with his disgusting hands. Sighing, I knew this car ride would test my patience, pushing me to my last nerve.

I was right. After yelling at Cezar to keep his bloody hands to himself and then dealing with Ion’s attitude the whole way up the mountain, I was emotionally spent and not looking forward to dealing with him .

Arek Azadian, our father, was one of three leaders of the Brotherhood. This well-connected and vicious mafia organization handled weapons dealing, skin trade, drugs, and high-end antiquities for all of Eastern Europe. An organization started hundreds of years ago in Russia under the Bratva organization until Armenia gained its independence.

As we passed the impenetrable steel gates, my brothers’ audible inhales bounced around the car, putting me on edge. We were all preparing to deal with the man they called the Armenian Butcher. The man who would mercilessly cut up anyone in his way with a smile, whether they were family or foe.

We rolled up to the two-story French chateau-style mansion. The butler stepped out and opened my brother's doors. All of us climbed out, and when I got around the car, the butler's hand was out, waiting for me to hand him the keys, but my eyes caught on the big purple bruise surrounding the right side of his face.

His eyes stayed down, his face flushed red, “Young master, I will place your car in the garage.”

My brothers shook their heads behind his back and walked forward, trying to cover up their disappointment. I handed him the keys, “Just leave it in the roundabout; we don’t plan on staying long.” As I walked past him, a sudden pause gripped me—guilt flooded my limbs as I remembered when he’d bandaged me up after each brutal talk with my father when I was younger.

Tilting my head, I spoke out the side of my mouth, “There’s an ointment in my glove box. Use it before you enter the house again,” then stalked off to meet my brothers.

They were waiting at the stairs for me, arguing hushedly, until they saw me. Questions brimmed their eyes, but we didn't have time for that. “Let's go,” I barked, pushing past them. We just needed to find out what father wanted and get it done.

We made our way to the mahogany double doors that once filled me with dread—now, they were nothing more than a heavy chain around my neck, a constant reminder of what I had become.

“Come in, boys! Come in!”

Hearing the exuberance in his voice only made me more cautious; if the collective sighs around me were any indication, my brothers felt the same.

Opening the door, a heavy stench of cloves and vermouth swirled around me. The familiar stench made my insides crawl, but I pushed forward. I wasn't that little boy anymore. I killed him and rose from his ashes.

My father was standing, looking down at his large marble desk, his eyes darting around as he whispered, “I found you. I fucking found you, my ticket.” Picking up a piece of paper, he closed his eyes and kissed it reverently. Not a second later, he crushed the paper in his hands, balling it up and smashing it onto his desk, making the room erupt with a loud slap.

Since he acted more ludicrous than usual, we kept our mouths shut, waiting for his command.

Stomping around the table, he sat on his desk and looked up. His eyes widened for a second, bouncing between us like he forgot we were even here, before they settled, narrowing his gaze with his hand folding on the table. “Boys, I have a special job for you. One that I’ve been working on for so long.” His smile widened, showing all his teeth, “one that I can shove in those Zakarian and Hovsepian’s faces!”

Slamming his hands on the table, I noticed one of his pens rolling off to the left; a familiar itch to move it back crawled in the back of my mind. Clenching my hands behind my back, I made sure not to move, knowing it would only cause more trouble than it was worth.

Grabbing the ball of paper he had just crushed, he cradled it in his hand, gazing at it in adoration before his eyes slid to us, narrowing like we were interrupting his daydream by just standing here. “I need you to fly to America and find the woman named Margaret Jones. Fashime has your tickets. You grab her and bring her here, no questions asked, no matter what. She is the key to my success.” He grabbed a different sheet of paper and slid it toward me. ‘I found her here,’ he said, pointing so hard his finger whitened with the force of it.

Stepping forward, I swooped to grab the paper, ensuring the tip of my pinky nudged the pen on his desk back into place before lifting the paper. The feeling of ants in my head calmed down, and I looked at a picture of an attractive woman around my father's age posing for a group picture. It was taken from an online newspaper, and the caption had her name as the vice chair for a local festival.

He got up slowly, reminding me of a snake about to strike as he stepped around his desk. “Find her. Bring her to me, and I’ll take care of the rest.” His voice rattled with violence and death, a warning of what we would greet if we came home empty-handed.

Nodding, I turned to take our leave when Ion stepped forward, and my jaw clenched. “What does this bitch have to do with us?”

I blinked. That was all it took for my father to grab him by the collar and smash his head against the white marbled desk.

“You are my fucking soldier. Soldiers don’t talk, question, or speak unless spoken to.” Ion gasped for air, his face red as my father squeezed harder. The urge to push him off my brother came surging forward, but deep down, I knew he wouldn't kill him. He could’ve done that to any of us long ago if he wanted to. He was keeping us alive for a purpose.

He leaned down into Ion's ear, talking low and slow, “Even as my son, you’re still only half mine, having that cowardly woman's blood in you. So do yourself a favor, shut up, and march when I tell you to.” He let go of him. Ion gasped for breath as he dropped to the floor, and I finally took a breath.

“This goes for all of you.” He stepped over Ion's body and looked at Cezar, who lifted his hands in surrender and then switched his gaze to me. “And you, my heir ,” he pointed, “You’ll need to keep your brothers under your thumb. They’re your right and left hands. I bred them for that purpose.” He stepped up to me, an inch from my face, looking me up and down before he scowled, “From now on, if they disappoint me, it will be on you. Understood?”

Staring him into his dead eyes, I curtly nodded, “Yes. I understand.”

It was how I preferred it.