All Eyes On HAVOC

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

MAKARI “HAVOC” SANCHEZ

Iraised the glass of Henny up to my lips, hissing as the liquid warmed my throat on the way down.

I closed my eyes and grunted behind clenched teeth at the throbbing in my arm.

I could feel the blood slowly slithering down the length of my arm from the bullet hole.

It felt like it had been cut by a million razor blades—sadly, a feeling I knew all too well.

Flitting my eyes open, I turned them to my mother and asked, “Are you just gonna sit there or you gonna remove the bullet before I bleed to death?”

She looked at me with trepidation flooding her brown orbs before she sighed heavily.

“I still think you should go to the hospital, Makari!”

She’d been saying that ever since me and my brother, Hell, walked in over thirty minutes ago.

All I wanted her to do was remove this bullet from my arm so that I could take my ass home to sleep. I wasn’t in the mood to go to the hospital and sit around for hours before they even called my name.

I’d stupidly believed that my mother would be able to help me quicker than they could, but all she wanted to do was question me while trying to persuade me to do something I just wasn’t gonna do.

Why can’t she just do what I want her to do? What I want to do?

I watched as she lifted her hands like she was finally going to do something, only to drop them again in exasperation.

“Ma, for real, just take it out so I can go home!”

All I wanted to do was go home.

“This nigga has clearly lost his mind since he want you to do it without any pain meds. So, just do it, Lara.”

My attention was drawn to my older half brother who had waltzed into the den. Just like my mama, he had been trying to get me to go to the hospital, but knowing I wasn’t about to budge, he brought me to her instead.

He and I only shared fathers, so he wasn’t my mother’s son.

Kelechi, who was also known as Hell, was four years older than me at thirty-five.

We were as close as we could be considering he wasn’t my mother’s son. I couldn’t stand my father, and I knew the feeling was mutual.

“Fine,” she huffed before doing what I asked her to do.

My teeth tightly gripped at my bottom lip as I gritted when my mother pushed the tweezer into my wound to pull the bullet out. It took her a few more seconds of prodding around to finally locate it and pull it out.

I quickly lifted the glass up to my lips again and downed its entire contents as she cleaned up my arm and dressed it for me.

“I’on know how the fuck you can sit there and just take that shit,” Hell grumbled, eyeing me with a shake of his head.

I didn’t bother answering him as I poured myself another glass of Henny, hoping it would finally help me calm down.

That notion went out of the window when I heard the front door open followed by my father’s voice.

What is he doing here???

My eyes bounced over to my mother, giving me the answer. And just that fast, I felt my anger go from 60 to 1,000 because I did everything in my power to stay outta his presence for a reason, and my mother knew it too.

“He was worried about you,” was her feeble attempt at explaining, and that had me chuckling mirthlessly because she truly didn’t know that man if she thought that he cared about me.

“Where is he? Where is he?” his deep voice rumbled out in the foyer until his tall, lean body finally darkened the doorway.

Wait? Is he really looking for me?

I felt something hit me in my chest—a longing I didn’t know I still held for my father.

His bloodshot red eyes bounced around the room until they finally landed on who he was searching for.

“Son, are you hurt?!”

I stiffened.

“Nah, Pops, I’m good,” Hell answered, waving him off as our father frantically searched every inch of my brother’s body that was, fortunately, bullet free. He didn’t even see me, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

I sat still, my jaw tightening and my mind blank, before I looked over at my father consoling my brother, wondering what that truly felt like.

Our father always only ever saw me as something to train and keep around for his benefit. Once I learned all that I could, he put me to work for my brother. I was a weapon to Orlando—nothing more and nothing less.

I suddenly caught my mother staring at me, tears glistening in her eyes, and I slowly stood to my feet, suddenly in a rush to leave.

But before I could even slink out of the room, hoping to remain unseen by Orlando Sanchez, he was in my face.

“What the fuck happened?!” he barked, not even caring to notice the gauze on my arm, but honestly, I didn’t expect him to.

I may have shared blood with him, much to my chagrin, but Kelechi was and would always be the only son he ever saw.

I was nothing more than a bodyguard or errand boy for my brother in Orlando’s eyes.

“I don’t pay you to slack, nigga! What if he was shot?!”

“Well, he wasn’t, was he?!” I yelled in his face, tired of him giving me his ass to kiss, as if I asked to be born into this cursed family. I almost opened my mouth to tell him that I was the one who was shot, so that he could see me for once, but I knew he still wouldn’t care.

“I did my mothafucking job, and maybe you should do yours and try to find out who was stupid enough to even come for Hell!”

It was clearly a setup—a targeted attack. But like I told him, I did my job—which was to keep my brother safe as well as act as his second in command.

So, Orlando could point his finger all he wanted, but it was his duty as Hell’s father to find out who tried to kill my brother and deal with it.

Kelechi suddenly got in between us and pushed my father back.

“Pops, for real, I wouldn’t be standing here without Havoc. Little bro was not playing about me, and he put everyone down,” Hell chuckled. “Not even getting shot stopped him.”

“I trained him to shoot with both hands and have no fear, so I expect nothing less,” Orlando fired back. “But it was still too fucking close,” he snarled.

My jaw twitched, and I clenched my fists down by my side. No matter what, it still wasn’t enough.

“Just do your duty as a father,” I hit back, obviously meaning more than the situation with my brother.

Orlando just stood there, nostrils flaring, raging like an old bull as he peered into my face, eyes shining with fire. Although I loathed him just as much, I still grinned widely at him because I knew he hated even more that I had his whole fucking face!

Even if Orlando wanted to deny me or act like I wasn’t his own flesh and blood, I looked just like him—right down to our identical tall bodies and hazel eyes he inherited from his Colombian father.

I was four inches taller though, standing at 6’5”.

We shared the same almond complexion. I had more muscle than he did, but outside of that, we were twinning, and I knew that shit bothered him more than anything else.

I was the bastard son; the reject walking around looking like Orlando literally spat me out.

Kelechi looked more like his mother than he did our pops, and he was shorter at six feet.

Giving my father one final glance, I turned away and rushed outta the room after bumping shoulders with Hell.

My mother was on my heels as she followed me out to my car.

“The hell you following me for? Why don’t you go run after that nigga since you care about him so much!”

Every time I turned around, she was always following behind him no matter how much he played with her emotions.

If only she knew I worked for him to keep her delusional ass safe!

My mother was so wrapped up in Orlando that she had no idea that he didn’t care about her, just like me.

Once my training was over and Orlando let me know that he did all that just for me to work as my brother’s guard, I told him to suck my dick.

Not because I had anything against my older brother—because despite how our pops dealt with me, my brother loved me.

But it was simply because I just didn’t want to work for that nigga. I wanted nothing to do with him.

But he quickly let me know that if I wanted my mother alive and safe, I would do as I was told, and so I relented.

Every damn day I left my house, I was doing that shit for her—not for him.

But she was too stuck on that fool and truly believed he wanted me to work for him because I was his son and he loved me.

Granted, Orlando had my mother living good in a nice, big house and more money in her account than she could count.

But I knew all that shit was nothing more than control.

It was Orlando’s way of keeping a leash on my mama and a hold on me.

We were both things to play with, and she just couldn’t see it.

“Don’t talk about him like that, Makari. He’s your father.”

Turning I stepped into her face.

“That nigga isn’t my father!” I yelled, shutting her mouth up immediately. “That nigga doesn’t care about me, Ma, and I’m ok with that. If you wanna run up behind him, do you, but keep me outta it! Don’t bring him around me, do you understand?!”

Her eyes switched over to the ground as she breathed heavily.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try. Why are you so angry?”

“Because you got me messed up in all this! A married man, Mama. The best you could do was make me with a married man?!”

I was the illegitimate son because my mother wasn’t his wife but a side chick.

Orlando was married to Kelechi’s mother and had been for the past forty years.

She allowed him to have his fun, so she didn’t even trip when she found out he was with my mama.

What they didn’t bargain on was me coming.

My mother expected my father to demand she have a termination, but, surprise, surprise, he didn’t.

And that should have been the first red flag, because it was clear he had plans for me since he allowed her to birth me even though it was outside of The Society’s principles.