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“Did you make the same exception when you killed our father?”
James snorted. “Is this for whatever wire or recording devices happen to be in the warehouse?”
“Just between you, me, and the birds in the ceiling.”
“Pfft…whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill you, and I’ll walk away because no one can tell us apart. They’ll think it’s James O’Brien dead on the ground regardless, and I’ll just go on being Dominic Walsh. You know why? Because we look the same. We sound the same. We have the same fucking DNA.”
“We’re not the same person, you fucking psychopath!” Dom roared.
James took advantage of Dom’s rage. Lowering his shoulder, he plowed into Dom’s stomach, taking him straight to the ground. Pain exploded in Dom’s back, and his breath rushed out of his lungs. James got his knees under him and attempted to straddle Dom’s waist, but Dom quickly dug his heels into the concrete and rolled, putting him on top of James. The other man locked his legs around Dom’s waist so that he could move into full control. Didn’t matter. Andrei had given him more than enough grappling lessons over the past year. He could manage just fine.
He caught James’s left hand with his right, pinning it to the ground. With his left forearm, he pummeled the bridge of James’s nose again and again. He could feel it break by the third hit and then moved his aim to James’s right eye. Enough hits and it would swell shut, partially blinding him.
James countered by trying to push Dom off him or swing his free hand, but Dom kept his head tucked close to his shoulder and chest so that James didn’t have a clear target. But it also meant that he didn’t see James snatch up a loose board from a broken pallet. The wood slammed against Dom’s temple.
Falling away from James at the same time as his brother pushed him, Dom rolled to his side and back to his feet. He swayed, the darkening world a little blurry as pain splintered through his skull. He was aware of James skittering off in the opposite direction. In the same direction that James’s gun had flown when Dom knocked it away.
Dom stepped away from James, blinking hard to clear his vision. He reached behind his back and pulled out the gun sitting snug in its holster at the small of his back. At the same time, he heard the telltale scrape of metal along concrete. James had found the gun.
“James,” Dom said in warning. His brother had pushed to his feet several yards away and was standing with his back to Dom. His shoulders were slightly bowed in and he was breathing heavily, each gasping breath filling the quiet of the warehouse. Dom was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to move, while still holding his gun down at his side. He would never shoot a man in the back, and he would never shoot an unarmed man. But he was pretty sure that only one of those things described James at that moment.
“It doesn’t have to end like this, James,” Dom started again. His voice was rough as a lump of rage and something else started to form in his throat. “You can just go back to California and forget that I exist. Go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine.”
“It’s all or nothing, John,” James whispered.
“No! No, it’s not! We’re brothers, dammit. Brothers. You’re the last of my flesh and blood. Why can’t we just be fucking brothers?”
“Because it’s not like that with us.”
“Why? Didn’t you ever just want to hang out? Grab pizza. Go to a movie. Just…be brothers. None of this other shit.”
James shook his head. “We were meant for bigger and better things than that.” He straightened as he spoke.
“Don’t, James.”
“We are wolves.”
“James…”
“And if you’re not a part of my pack…” James swung around to face Dom, lifting the gun as he turned.
Clenching his teeth, Dom raised his gun at the same time. He pivoted his hips, turning as much of his body sideways as he could to give James less of a target. Slowly, he released a breath and squeezed the trigger. The explosion in the warehouse was enormous, deafening Dom. Both guns went off at the same time.
James flew backward and hit the ground hard. The hand holding the gun was thrown wide. One more shot was fired, but it was nowhere near Dom. James didn’t make a sound. Dom patted his own chest in shock. He was unharmed. His brother’s shot missed him.
Keeping his gun drawn, Dom slowly edged over to where James was lying unmoving on the concrete. There was just enough light to see the gun had fallen from James’s hand and was laying a few feet away. A growing circle of blood was spreading across his chest, where Dom’s bullet had gone straight through his heart. There was no breath. No movement. James’s wide green eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.
