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And it's notjustbecause he's my father, my 'superior' or my lifelong abuser.
No.
It's because in his calm, collected silence, his easy acceptance, there is nothing but a fucking invisible storm. Augustus Luna does not stay calm. He does not stay silent. And he does not accept failure,ever.
Something is coming, and it's going to be fuckingbad.
After what feels like an hour, he finally lifts a hand, waving it dismissively before mutteringsit, all the while keeping his back on us and drinking his tequila as though he hasn't got a care in the world. Again, it's a testament to his cockiness that his back is turned on us.If only you knew, you sick fuck.
We all roll our eyes at the fact that he just commanded us like dogs but we take a seat because in this room, in his presence, we arehisdogs.
"So, it seems that this most recent fuck up is not your only indiscretion, no?" he murmurs, his voice completely blank and emotionless, giving nothing away. My hackles rise but I ignore every fucking intuition inside of me that's telling me to take my brothers,my family,and fucking run. I give nothing away, knowing that just because his back is turned on me, that doesn't mean shit. He misses nothing when you're sharing a room. Distantly? He's too cocky and self-involved.
"In what regard?" I question, using the same unaffected tone as him. I tap my fingers on the table and lean back in my chair, relaxing my posture and acting like the ruthless soldier he thinks he created.
Turning slowly, he leans back, resting his cushy ass on the bar before crossing his ankles. He eyes each of us, taking in every fucking thing. Every blink, every shift, every heartbeat. Finally, his eyes land on Maddox, and my tapping pauses, despite my best efforts. What the fuck is this about? Of all of the things we've been doing to fuck shit up under his nose. What reason does he have to single out my brother?
"You were given a job recently, boy, were you not?" he questions.Fuck.
Dolores. Her daughter. Her grandson. The guys did deviate on that job, they explained how it all went down. I don't begrudge or blame them in the fucking slightest. They did what was right. They did what I would have done. My heart fucking hurts for the fact that someone murdered Dolores when we had every intention of saving her. Her daughter was tight-lipped about the entire situation, barely spoke any English and though all of us are fluent in Spanish, that didn't seem to calm her whatsoever.
I don't blame the woman. She likely watched her mother be murdered while hiding and separated from her son. Our best guess is that Dolores knew something was going down and made the rash decision to hide her daughter in the bathroom, even tucking a chair beneath the handle. We don't know why the boy was hidden separately but people do weird shit when they panic. Maddox assumes that he had arrived moments after Dolores was killed judging by her warmth and steady blood loss.
Luckily, the guys at least convinced the woman to give an address. She refused to be taken to a safe house but we have had Quan and Raptor do a drive-by of the woman's house every day just to make sure she was okay. We'll continue for the next month until the heats off of Dolores's entire family.
But the fact that Gus is bringing that up right now? Yeah, shits about to go down.
My brother doesn't even flinch under Gus's hard stare even though I know he must be raging inside. "Which one?" he murmurs, his brows lifting in question. His face and body language sayI dare you to say somethingand knowing Gus, he is well aware of the silent threat.
Gus eyes Maddox for a moment before nodding his head. His lips tip up in a smirk that is so fucking sinister I have to physically restrain myself from stepping in front of my brother.
"No worries,mi hijo," he says softly, as though he actually means the term of endearment. "I'll remind you." Gus sets his drink down on the large conference table we've gathered around and steps away, toward the one and only door that leads both in and out of the freezing cold, concrete bunker. His fist hammers on the steel door twice, his eyes never leaving Madd's.
My fists clench on the arms of my chair so hard that my bones pop.What and the fuck is he doing?My teeth grit and from the creaking of chairs and heavy breathing surrounding me, I know the guys are panicking just as much as I am.
The door slides open, and the heavy metal grating across the concrete floor is so fucking loud, my ears burn. "Yes, sir?" one of the grunts asks, standing tall and waiting for any order Gus might bark out.
"Bring her in," he mutters, nodding his chin in the direction of the open hallway behind the newcomer.
Her? Holy shit.
My palms begin to sweat as my heart thumps wildly in my chest. No, no fucking way. He can't have her.
Unable to hold back, my eyes shoot toward my brothers, giving Gus my back. My eyes widen and I know my face is probably giving away how fucking frantic I feel right now. Nyx and Stone are both masking their anxiety well, but I can see what they are feeling. Their small tells wouldn't be noticeable to anyone but the four of us.
Nyx's jaw is clenching so hard, that I'm surprised his teeth haven't cracked, but other than that, he gives nothing away. Stone is looking impassive as ever, but his eyes won't reach mine. He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the wall ahead of him, not moving a fucking inch. He's barely breathing at this point.
Maddox's eyes are beyond black as the rage builds inside of him and I know I'm seconds from losing my brother to the monster he battles every day. If Isabella is dragged down here, I have no idea what Madd will do. I have no idea whatIwill do. Any of us, for that matter.
Scenario after scenario fills my head. Every one worse than the last. How could he have found her? No one knows she's with us except her friends and they wouldn't do anything to put her life in jeopardy. Right? Beyond that, it's just Raptor and Quan but we trust them. We've been friends for a long fucking time. They both lost their parents the night of the massacre. No, I trust them. Besides, they may know we have a female in our house but they have no idea who she is to us. That information would be of no value to them.
It can't be her. I refuse to believe it.
But then, I hear the screams. Female, muffled, likely gagged, pained, terrified.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Slowly, I allow my eyes to travel back to the door. I channel every ounce of willpower I have to school my features. My gaze reaches the open door just as the grunt returns, yanking a bound and gagged brunette behind him. She's being dragged down the concrete stairs by her hair, her face is turned away from me but the sounds she's making penetrate through my fucking soul.
