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“Here he is. Did you just get back?” Jimmy coos, his voice dripping in adoration for my big brother. I used to feel the same way about him; funny, really.
Clay stops in front of me. “Apparently not soon enough.”
I slump in the chair, my mind and muscles unwilling to fight anymore. This time, I’ll just let myself drown.
Staring at the cement floor, I lose focus as I accept defeat. I think about my son, my boy, a smile twitching at my lips. If there is a heaven, I’ll finally get to hold him.
“I’m sorry, Bron. But Konnor isn’t worth this fight. He isn’t our brother. Jimmy has made us what we are. And Dad. . . he broke a vow first when he fucked Dustin’s wife.”
My mind screams. I want to slap the words from my consciousness.Stop, fucking make it stop. Kill me.I can’t listen to this betrayal. It’s like a knife slicing through my entire meaning of life. Through everything I hold dear. Through what it means to be a Butcher. I wish I’d died before I saw my brother standing in front of me, ripping apart my name.
This is my own form of hell, of torture.
Squatting at my feet, Clay tries to catch my line of sight. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the crimson liquid leaking from my lip and left eye. I keep my gaze low, concentrating on the small puddle of blood leaking from the dipshit’s neck as it slowly dries and crusts over. “Jimmy saved Konnor, Bron. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”
“I did Luca a favour, my boy. He’s like a brother to me, and Konnor is his blood. Dustin wanted the boy in the ground,se?Isaved him. This entire vendetta, my own nephew’s murder, it’s all been a result of paranoia in your sick mind,se?We can’t have anyone going rogue. I was never your enemy.”
Clay lowers his hand from my face, placing it on my knee. “I never wanted it to go down like this, but believe me, brother, this is the only way.”
“Se, this hurts us both. This vendetta ends today. Clay will tell Luca that this was Dustin’s doing. You killed his man, sent him a present,se?We’ll take him out as afamily.Maxwell will get his revenge, and with bothliabilitieshaving been taken care of quietly, there won’t be any further issues arising between our families. . . Isn’t that what you want? To leave them with a sense of peace?”
The shootout. . .
Clay knew we were all together.
What if he killed my girls. . .
I raise my head and train my eyes on the clear blue ones close to me. I tug on my restraints to inch closer, getting to a place where I can feel my brother’s warmth. More tears trace the bloody tracks on my face. “You could have killed my girls,” I spit out, feeling venomous.
Clay blinks once. “What’re you talking about?”
“The shootout,” I snarl, scrutinising his apathetic face, a mask of calm and sophistication and bullshit. My brother is so beautiful. . . I’ll skin his beauty from his bones if I make it out of here alive.
His jaw muscles pulse as he says, “We had it all under control.” The sound of a phone buzzing catches Clay’s attention. His eyes drop to his side to acknowledge the vibrations. Surely there is nothing more important than sending his little brother to an early grave.
Clay leans forwards. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he lingers there to whisper, “It’s over, brother. It’s all over now.” I look up at him as he straightens. Reaching into the left breast of his jacket, he retrieves his Glock. I decide to smile at him, noticing a shift in his stance. A tiny shuffle that makes no sense.
Only a Butcher is allowed to send off a Butcher.
The gun’s nose touches my forehead, and I push against it, wishing I had more time with my baby, dreaming about an alternative reality where I never walked away from her that day in the park but instead, held her, kissed her, told her I was there. Swore my devotion to her. With or without our son. Gave her my heart. My time. My everything. Lived forher. Watched her become a doctor or not. It wouldn’t matter. Just watched her become something that made her happy. Then, when she was ready, we would have another boy. I would be so proud to be his dad because he’d be a hell of a lot smarter than me and just as cute as her.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, clutching at that false reverie despite feeling the cold nose of my big brother’s gun between my brows.
Bracing myself.
Waiting.
Smiling.
The cold metal leaves me and I exhale fast as its absence stokes further anticipation. I’m ready. . .
Opening my eyes again, I become fixed on Clay as he points the gun at Jimmy. A wild grin creeps across my face, and I both want to beat the shit out of Clay and kiss him. Jimmy glares at him, radiating disappointment, shaking his head on a low, gruff sigh.
“What are you doing, my boy?” Clasping his hands in front of him, he waits for an answer.
“I have a gift for you, Jimmy,” Clay states.
Jimmy is steel faced, but his gaze shifts quickly around the room to the guards, who are still and unresponsive to the gun pointed between their boss’s brows.
