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“I am fine, big brother. I took one in the shoulder, but nothing a few stitches can’t fix.” Thank fuck. Half of me would have died if something had happened to him.
“Did you finish him?”
“Yes. One in the neck. Now for dad.”
My father has been underground hiding from us, the fucking coward. Word got out that I was cleaning house, and it would appear he tucked tail and ran. No longer bound by the code or by respect for my grandfather, may he rest in peace, I went to his house. Yes. That house. I rang the bell and watched as his soon to be widow pinched her face because there is no denying who I am. As far away as he kept us from this part of his life, I am the spitting image of him. I look more like him than the spineless son he spawned with her. “Where is he?” I asked her, not wasting time with pleasantries.
“I have no idea who you are talking about.” she tries to shut the door in my face. I push it open and look her up and down.
“You can either tell me now or I can bring the bitch ass runt you birthed down here and force him to tell me. So, I am going to ask one more time, where is he?” She shuffles from one foot to the other about to give me bullshit when I hear a voice from behind her.
“He has an estate in Burr Ridge. It is hidden by tons of trees and has an underground entry so he can pull in and you would never know he was home. It's the only house on the common court. If I had to guess, that is where he would be.” For the first time I take a look at the other son, my father elevated in his mind above me, and Jozef and I can honestly say, I don’t see anything special. I can admit right now to myself, that all of these years I had him built up in my mind as some sort of deity or something. Before I turn and walk away, he stuns me and his mother both. “For what it's worth, I have always wanted to get to know you both. But trust me when I tell you, you had it better. Good luck.” with those parting words he turns and walks away. I don’t know what to do with that information but right now, I don't have time to unpack it.
I hop in my car and call my brother letting him know where I am headed but that I am going in alone. I just need the specs from him, so I know the layout of the house. I thought I wanted this long-drawn-out confrontation with regrets and apologies, but all I want is his blood sprayed all over me as I cut his heart out of his chest, declaring me the king, the victor, the strongest of the pride.
Zef comes through right as I am pulling up. From the blueprint, it looks like if I make it to the right of the house, there is a slight opening in the side door that slides open into a maid's quarters. From there, the master suite is two floors up to the right.
Gun loaded, black hoodie on and hood up, I put my knives in my pant leg and jog the block over to the house. “Fucking arrogant pig.” He has no security and no guards. Could he be any surer of himself? I find the hidden passageway and slip inside of the house undetected. I slink back into the shadows when his maid walks past and then continue my way to the top floor.
Immediately I know something isn't right when I hear whimpering behind the door. I hear a slap next, and I am busting down the door. Disgust doesn't even begin to cover it. On the floor huddled in the corner is a little girl who can’t be more than fifteen years old, naked, covered in bruises. “What are you doing here? Get out!” he screams at me from the other side of the room. My eyes won’t leave him, but my mind is on how to get this girl out of here. Bending down to her eye level, I curse when she flinches at my proximity.
“I'm not going to hurt you. What is your name?” I ask her, trying to be calm.
“Katya Vulcasic.” I recognize her name from the list of girls Zef found out about from O’Brien, the Don from Newark.
“Hi Katya. My name is Jakub. I am going to get you home, sweetheart. But first, I need you to go outside of this room and don't come back in. Wait for me in the next room and cover your ears. I will come back for you. Okay?” She nods and runs from the room. I shut the door behind her and turn to face my own personal monster. “You filthy, dirty son of a bitch.”
