Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Alexei
Ipace the floor in my brother's old office, wearing out the carpet by the window. The view really is beautiful at night; the lake over the property, the twinkle of the stars. I've no question why Vic kept this room to himself.
It never held very good memories for me, anyway. It was the room where my father finally killed my mother. Then it was the room I would take my lashings whenever I did something he disapproved of. Which was often. Now it's the room where my brother died.
I place a hand over my chest and rub, doing my best to push the pain back down. It doesn't help, but the burn of the vodka I choose instead does, leaving a blaze down my heart.
The door creaks and my head turns expectantly. Isla slips into the room and closes the door behind her, drowning out the sounds of panic I can hear from the men while the door remains ajar.
"Any word on how many yet?" I say, trying not to look at her so she can't tell how much I actually care about this. I've spent months convincing her I don't care about anything other than avenging Victor. I don't tell her I needed her to take care of the men because I couldn't do it myself.
Her blonde hair tosses as she shakes her head.
"Fuck!"
With a sigh she sits down on the green couch, wiping her hands of blood as she starts to braid her hair. "It's at least five. Possibly more once they finish digging all the bodies out."
I chew on my lip to calm down. I'm far less level-headed than my brother. It is my instinct to kill and to burn. I never think very rationally. Let alone when I'm pissed off.
"And it was-"
"Chet," Isla confirms, tying the braid off at the ends and sitting forward. "Fucking with you. Trying to draw you out. Who knows? But yes, it's definitely him. Waging war on us."
I run my hand over my mouth as I take a deep breath. Before I decide to do something stupid. Or make everyone else follow me into something stupid.
"You're sure it's him?" I ask, turning expectant eyes on her.
She taps the side of her forehead. "Temple tattoos. They're definitely his men."
"He certainly picked a good time to come out swinging," I say on a growl.
"I warned you about this Alexei," Isla says, standing to challenge me. She's been doing a lot of that lately. "I told you that something was coming. It's no surprise that it's Chet. I told you to stay away and leave that girl alone. Focus on the real threat."
I wave her off and look out the window at the people on the lawns. The dark is lit up by torches and flares, the men scurrying more than usual as they cart around supplies and carry out their work. Not as peaceful a view as it normally is.
Isla must have told them to shore up our defenses.
"We don't even know what Chet wants yet," I reason.
Isla scoffs and rolls her eyes. "He wants what he always wants. Sage. And now apparently you. Since you, you know, refused to hand her to him."
I grind my teeth. She knows how much saying that would test me. I'm well aware of what happened and how it went down. The fact that I wasn't there for my brother is one thing. The fact that Chet is now apparently out for blood too is another ridiculous consequence of Sage Fucking DeMarco.
"Another good reason to take Sage out now," I say.
I head over to the bar and unload the guns from underneath the cupboard.
Rushkoffs don't take lightly to being attacked.
Violent revenge is our forte. If we can't get this under control I'll be forced to acknowledge my new role in our family and take my place as pakhan.
But that's only if I can't get this under control.
"Oh for fuck's sake, please," Isla groans. "We need to fix this. Will you just ignore that girl for now? Please?"
"You know I can't do that," I say.
"Well it's cost you the lives of at least five of our people," Isla says, giving me a disappointed look. "It's time to start acting like you're actually the head of this family now. You don't have the luxury of going off on tangents. You need to deal with the threat."
I turn back to face her, cocking a shotgun in one hand. "Chet is a spineless fuck. He's no more threatening than the dirt that I crunch beneath my shoe."
"It's like I'm talking to a wall. Do you listen when I speak?" Isla says, jolting as I push past her carrying my litany of weapons. That I'm not sure what I'm going to use for yet. But it's something. "Chet killed our people. To get to you."
"I will deal with Chet. Later."
"That's a mistake, Alexei. We both know Chet is far more capable of killing you than that girl is."
I ignore her as I continue to gather what I need to head out.
"Please. Stay here. Focus on Chet."
The thing is, I can't seem to do that. Even though she's right.
I lost people to Chet tonight, but I can't help but blame Sage DeMarco for all of it.
Chet only wants me because he wants her.
Because I chose to defend her instead of my brother.
And now I need to live with the guilt of that for the rest of my life.
She's not afraid to die. She's afraid to live.
It may be the only thing we have in common.
"I'll be back," I say, storming out and ignoring Isla's calls of protest behind me. I push past people as I rush to get outside, the men jumping out of my way in shock when they spot me. They always knew to keep a wide berth from me.
As I push through the front door to the lawns, the men stop. I watch them all as they watch me, and it feels like they're waiting for me to say something. To announce something like some kind of leader.
But that's not me.
No one dares say a word, even as I get in my car, peel out of the driveway and go to rid myself of my problems.
If I listened to my instincts, I would drive straight to Sage and start another fight. Maybe to calm the voice in my head. Maybe to kill her and dump her on Chet's doorstep with a note that says 'you're welcome' pinned to her chest.
Save us all some time.
Isla's guilty monologue was plenty effective. So instead of going to Sage and hurting her some more like I desperately want to, I'm doing something else instead.
When my father was pakhan not a drop of Rushkoff blood could be spilled without war.
I'm certain Victor would've followed in his footsteps had he needed to. His hands spilled plenty of Rushkoff blood, but he started fights, not failed to finish them.
Now five of my men, probably more, are dead under my watch. Not a fantastic start if I planned to pull my head in and play leader at some point.
Five people dead and I don't really have shit to do about it.
It makes me look weak.
The right thing to do is twofold. Ignore Sage and let this go; or kill her quickly and stop drawing it out. Then I can quiet this madness in my head and become the leader that my brother would've been.
Alas... instead of doing either of those things, I find myself parking in the hills in the middle of town. Where I know that Chet used to live before he went into hiding. After he went insane, he used it as a base. I figure if it's still abandoned, I can put this all to rest.
I get out of the car and walk the rest of the way through the dirt and wooded trees to where I have a good view point of Chet's old place.
At the top of this hill, I can see down below to the neat row of family homes lined up in suburban perfection.
A magnificent view of their expansive backyards where they lay along the line of woods.
I rest my foot close to the edge so I can look closer.
Chet's home is simple to spot. A nice little two story tucked away unsuspectingly. Unused to drawing attention. Why Chet would've ever wanted a classic suburban dream home is beyond me.
I'm assuming what I will see is nothing. Nothing but the near condemned house that was once beautiful. Nothing but the neighboring houses lit up and this one dormant as usual. A blight on what would've been a picturesque family hideaway.
My heart sinks when I get a better look. Because that's not what I see.
In fact, Chet's old home is a hive of activity.
There are countless men moving about the property and the house is lit up far brighter than any of its neighbors.
In the backyard, there's a bonfire going and more people than I could take on my own seated around it.
Shipping containers are littered around the garden, full of crates, supplies and weaponry.
Some of them carry the supplies into the house.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath, grunting as I run a hand down my face, hating what I'm seeing. Mostly because it confirms what Isla has said. That Chet is, in fact, a pretty massive threat. Secondly because it means I'm going to have to deal with it.
Whatever Chet has been doing the past few years has worked for him. He's amassed an army to his name, just as my brother said. Something I didn't want to believe.
But my brother was right. If Chet had teamed up with us as Victor wanted, the DeMarcos would've been over in less than a day and before they could even blink. All it would've taken is Sage. If this is his smallest outpost, then Chet has more than enough men to take out the DeMarcos even now.
And because I've managed to piss him off, probably us as well.
"Fuuuuuuck."
I don't want to deal with this. I do not want to have to deal with a threat this large. Not right now. Why fucking now? Fuck's sake.
I kick the dirt as I head back to my car, feeling the pressure of our empire settling down onto my shoulders.
"Fuck this."
I open the door and slip into the drivers seat. Only hesitating for a second when I remember that I'm pretty sure I locked the car when I got out…
My breath hitches at the smell in the car. What is that smell? Feminine and familiar.
It's only a hair, the tiniest of movements, but still I see it when the wire passes over my head, around my neck and towards my throat.
My eyes widen, but I have no time for any other reaction. The sharp awareness of combat grips me, clearing the alcohol from my brain and pushing me back into focus. Instincts kick in, and I defend myself.
My palm comes up between my throat and the wire to give me leverage against the attack. It's so incredibly fast, and if my eyes were even a millisecond slower, I'd miss it and I'd probably be dead.
The string pulls harsh against my hand as the world resumes its speed. I grunt and flail as I use my palm to push it away.
"Fuck you!" It comes from the backseat.
Sage. Sage has a fucking garrote around my neck.
She pulls harder again and I slam against the seat, choking. My palm is just keeping it from slicing my throat and cutting off my airway completely. She's gotten strong.
My jaw clenches as I attempt to fight her off, but she has the upper hand.
"Huh? What was that? Thought you liked it rough," she says, taunting in my ear. I can hear the smile in her voice.
I drop my other hand and reach for the seat recliner, twisting the knob in my hand. We fall backward and Sage cries out as the seat crushes her. I dive from the car, clutching at my throat as I spill out onto the dirt on my hands and knees.
By the time I stand up, Sage has left the car too, limping and sporting a fresh cut on her forehead.
"What the fuck!" I yell, rubbing at my bruised throat.
Sage says nothing, her emerald green eyes filled with hatred as she blows the hair from her face and dabs at the cut on her head.
"You almost killed me," I say, quiet calm returning as annoyance takes over.
"Was kind of the point," she says, lifting her chin in defiance.
I take one step towards her, reaching for my knife.
The clicking of a gun stops me in my tracks. But it's not her.
No, it's much worse.
We're surrounded.