Chapter 24 Sebastian
Sebastian
Soran placed the Kurdish chai down on the table for Hayden and me, then sat down with us.
“You know what time of year it is, don’t you?” he said, sipping his tea.
We knew. Every year since we became friends, we’d joined him in the celebration. He said we were family, and families celebrated together. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Newroz.”
The Kurdish New Year. We’d all end up in Finsbury Park, where they had a mass party—it was everything from food, singing, dancing, and all things Kurdish. Soran was proud of where he came from and always helped by donating to keep it alive.
“Now, Berevan has made your clothes and dresses for Serfina and Aria.”
I shifted in my chair. “I … don’t think Aria and I will be going this year.”
“Why not? We go every year,” Hayden said.
“Sebastian, it’s tradition amongst us. I won’t have you miss it. Berevan wants to meet her, and you know you can’t disappoint her,” Soran added.
Berevan was Soran’s wife. They’d been married for six years now but had known each other since childhood. She had so much kindness in her, considering what she’d had to endure in her life.
Six years ago, Soran asked us to go over to Kurdistan to smuggle Berevan out of the country, due to her activism in supporting women’s rights. The Iraqi government had deemed her a threat and had her detained.
They’d never forget what Hayden and I had done for them to be together, which was a reason we were so close. A reason we’d always be brothers.
“She doesn’t know.” I scrubbed my fingers over my stubble, a knot forming in my stomach.
“Sebastian, no one will mention it. That’s your demon to tell.”
“Fine, I’ll bring her.”
I let out a heavy sigh, knowing full well there was no point trying to talk to them about it because Soran wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I wasn’t going to, but he didn’t need to know that.
I’d make an excuse closer to the time. People got sick.
It was plausible. There was no way I was going to let these worlds mix. She needed to stay away from this.
Soran smiled, clapping his hands together. “We will have a big feast to celebrate.”
Before anyone could say anything else, Valon slammed the door open, dragging a man who’d been tied up along the floor, and threw him into the middle of the room. We all stood, looking at him.
Valon’s breath heaved, rage filling his eyes.
“Some piece of shit took my shipment,” he roared, kicking the man in his stomach.
The man winced, trying to grab at his stomach, the silver duct tape turning his sounds muffled.
“What?” Hayden said, confusion in his voice.
“I went to the docks at the agreed time, but it wasn’t there. This fucker”—Valon kicked him again—“who was meant to have cleared it for me said someone else picked it up three hours before I got there.”
“The shipment from Luca?” I clarified.
“Yes.”
What the fuck?
No one knew about that particular shipment. Hassan had set it all up for Valon. Those two and their men were the only ones who did.
“Could it have been Luca bypassing us?” Soran asked.
“No, he needed us because he didn’t have the people here to do it,” Valon replied.
“Have you pissed someone off?” Hayden asked, looking at me.
“I mean, I piss someone off on a daily basis. That’s normally at work, though.”
“Take him to the basement. Sebastian will get it out of him,” Soran said to Valon.
I shifted in my seat, a slight unease creeping over my skin. It had been a while since I’d tortured someone in this type of situation.
But underneath, there was something else.
A rush of adrenaline danced under my skin, filtering through my veins.
Valon dragged the man by his collar, and Soran followed, leaving the room.
“Who would be stupid enough to touch our shipments?”
Hayden rubbed his forehead and let out a heavy breath. “I don’t have a clue.”
I made my way down into the basement, where Soran and Valon had taken the man. The light barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to see the man in the centre of it. The table in the corner sat in darkness, but you could make out that it was there, certain items laid out on it.
Valon and Soran had tied the man to the back of the chair. Silver tape covered his mouth. His nostrils flared as his breathing got heavier. Sweat was dripping down his forehead as he looked at me. He knew what was coming.
I stepped further into the light, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. He was trying to say something, but the tape was muffling the words.
I crouched in front of the chair. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” I ripped the tape off his mouth.
“Please, I didn’t know,” he begged.
“You were informed it was for us, but you gave it to someone else.”
My fingers wrapped around his shoulder, and my thumb found that spot just above the collarbone.
I pushed down and in towards the bone. His shoulder shot up as he tried to struggle to free my grip, but it was no use; he couldn’t move, not with his arms tied behind him.
Gasps fell from his mouth, and his breathing started to become shallow as I pressed harder.
I released my grip. His chest heaved, trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible. His face was flushed, sweat dripping down it.
“Please, I needed the money,” he cried out.
“Money? Did we pay you so little that you needed to take another job?”
I walked over to the corner table, placing the bat handle in my palm, lowering it until the barrel reached the floor. Then I trailed it behind me as I made my way back over to him.
“Guess that money will be no use to you now.”
I didn’t give him a chance to speak before I swung the bat, full force, straight onto his kneecaps.
A sharp, explosive crack echoed through the room.
His body started jolting in the chair violently, like an electric shock was running through him.
And his screams … well, they were raw, broken fragments escaping his mouth.
His eyes were enlarged, pupils dilated as they locked onto me like he’d seen death.
Sweat poured down his burning face. He looked like he was hyperventilating.
Within seconds, the blood came, spreading fast, soaking through his trouser fabric like it had been waiting to come out.
My foot found the chair leg, kicked it to make it move, and he sucked in a breath, trying to pant through the pain.
“Dante. He told me his name was Dante.” His words strained with every breath.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Dante? That made no sense. He knew he was better off staying quiet after what I’d done to him. There’s no way he was stupid enough to start anything now.
I kicked the chair again, and he cried out. “Was anyone else involved?”
“I don’t remember. Please!”
“I suggest you start thinking. I’m not a patient man.”
“No … Please, I never saw anyone else’s faces,” he breathed out.
I stood there, gathering my thoughts for a moment. What the fuck was all this about? Everything had been running smoothly.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“No, I promise that was it.”
“Thank you.” I patted him on the shoulder.
“You’re not going to kill me? I’ve told you everything I know.”
Of course I was going to kill him.
I swung the bat, and it connected with the side of his skull, the impact like a crack of thunder in the night sky.
I’d barely adjusted my grip on the bat before his body went limp.
No words came from him; his body was lifeless.
Blood splattered up the back of the wall, deep red droplets falling to the floor around him, crimson spreading through his shirt collar.
I looked over at the dead man in front of me. I never thought I’d be back here again, but it felt oddly right.