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His thoughts turned back to the young man who had taken out Finnegan. Thomas O’Malley hadn’t been a legal adult at the time of the open season; he was still in high school until May. He seemed like a good kid. There was hope that given time, space, and therapy, he could still be honest if he wanted.
At least, that was what everyone was saying out loud. Behind closed doors, in places people thought they had privacy, Snake knew that there were some who thought Thomas O’Malley would be an excellent made man. A good addition to any of the mobs or gangs of the Three Rings as a proper member rather than someone who skirted the line. By all rights, he could be considered made already. He’d killed a man and God and his therapist only knew what Finnegan had him doing at that pub. All he’d need to do is pledge his loyalty to a single group and he’d be made. Fergus would take him as a Clover if only to keep others from taking advantage of the young man. The way Felinus had for Seong.
The thought that people were watching this brilliant young man for his abilities with a gun rather than his brain made Seong sick. Thomas’s grades had been mediocre while Finnegan had control over every minute of the young man’s spare time. Those mediocre grades were just proof at how brilliant he really was, acing tests and in-school assignments without the time and ability to study. Now that he was being left alone, those C’s and D’s had all become B’s and A’s. Thomas could make something great of himself, particularly if he followed through on the innocent question to Seong about computers at the end of September.
Seong checked his programs. No emergency calls in a twenty mile radius of his friends’ location. No cops being dispatched. As far as anyone seemed to know, there wasn’t a man being slowly torn apart as he screamed.
He wasn’t sure why Thomas weighed so heavily on his mind since their brief exchange in Issac’s hospital room. By all rights, Seong shouldn’t have given the young man another thought when he didn’t receive an email within a week. It was a good thing. Seong might not be the typical made man, but he was part of the Family, the Italian Ring. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was one of the more dangerous members of the Zoo because he was the one who made sure no rat ever escaped the Cat. He was the one who made people disappear.
Thomas shouldn’t contact Seong, even if it would be Seong helping him and not Snake. Seong knew Issac kept in contact with the young man, but he didn’t know what the two discussed. He made a point not to know. It was bad enough he had checked in on Thomas’s school records to see how he was doing. Bad enough he had seen Thomas’s name on a sticky note at the receptionist’s desk of Seong’s therapist’s office and knew he was being seen once a week by the same therapist. Bad enough he couldn’t get that cute freckled face and bright green eyes out of his head. Worse that Seong couldn’t help but wonder how else those freckles might change if Thomas blushed any deeper, or how far they went past the oversize hoodie the young man wore—
“Stop it,” he hissed, shaking his head violently. Thomas was only eighteen and still in high school. Seong, a twenty three year old made man, had no right to be thinking about him that way. It was wrong.
He refocused on his screens when his phone lit up on its metal stand next to him. His eyes darted to it and he frowned. An email had come through. The subject line simply read “Career Advice” and the email appeared to be a gamer or developer tag. “AlleyCat,” he muttered, turning back to the computers and guessing he had another hour before the men were done. He could answer an email.
* * *
Thomas’s hands shook as Jake held out the pistol to him. There was always too much sound in the pub. Too many men talking over each other, too many glasses landing hard on tables, too many pool games being played, too many— too everything.
But this was a million times worse. The Irish drinking songs had been replaced with a metal song that Thomas was familiar with, one he actually liked and would play when he was trying to drown out the noise. Ironically, it was too much noise for the other men as they tried to plan their defenses for the hunting party waiting outside.
Jake’s hands wrapped around Thomas’s when the gun was in his grip. “You remember what I taught you about these?”
Thomas stared into Jake’s unsmiling face. He hadn’t smiled once since he picked Thomas up after school. That had been a bad sign. Even when Jake wasn’t happy, he’d force himself to smile at Thomas.
“This is important, Tommy,” Jake said, his fingers tightening. “Do you remember?”
Thomas nodded, swallowing down his fear. “Finger off the trigger until I’m ready to fire,” he recited. “Ease back the trigger. Fire at the end of an exhale and hold until a full inhale. Use two hands because accuracy is more important than looking cool.”
“Good lad,” Jake said, his hand resting on top of Thomas’s head. It was a comforting weight when everything was falling apart. “Now, I need you to listen carefully.” The hand on his head moved to his shoulder as Jake met his eyes.
Thomas realized suddenly that Jake didn’t need to crouch anymore to do that, nor did Thomas need to look up. How had he not noticed becoming just as tall as Jake?
“Focus, lad,” Jake told him and Thomas blinked hard. “I need you to go into the back office and protect Issac.”
“Protect him? But-” He glanced towards the window as some of the men peeked out. “They’re here to get him, aren’t they?”
“Crossfire and itchy fingers are always a risk,” Jake told him. “He’s hurt. He can’t protect himself. You have to protect him, understand me? Do not let anyone, and I mean anyone, hurt him. You put down anything that is a threat to Issac.”
Thomas swallowed and nodded.
“Go,” Jake said, pushing him back a step as someone shouted about a riot shield.
Thomas ran down the hall, back to the little office he had left Issac and Finnegan in with Jake’s words echoing through his head.
Finnegan was standing in front of Issac, his revolver pressed against Issac’s forehead.
“My only regret is not getting to watch the Cat tear you apart like the rat you are,” Issac was saying, hate in every word as Thomas raised his gun.
Both hands- exhale slowly as he eased back the trigger-
Thomas woke with a start just as the gun went off in his memory, at the same time the final note of a song played. Reaching up, he pulled the headphone he had fallen asleep with out of his ear, feeling his hands shake like they had that night.
“Y-you’re okay,” he murmured into the darkness. “You’re safe. It’s o-over.”
The words brought little comfort but that was normal. The point wasn’t to make the feelings go away. They were just meant to ground him back into reality. A reality where he had killed Finnegan before Finnegan could kill Issac, and where he never saw Jake again. A reality where he pretended to be a normal high school student despite knowing all the nasty things that happened in the city. A reality where his biggest problems for the last three months were getting his mountain of late assignments turned in so he could perhaps graduate with a decent grade point average to receive more of the scholarships Issac had told him about.
He sighed as he sat up slowly, rubbing at his face. “Issac is alive because of you,” he murmured into his palms as he worked crust out of his eyes. “And you are alive because of him.”
