“Fucking shit, this hurts! That fuckin asshole!”
Everything inside me went cold, telling myself I needed to keep my shit together; we were on a job and couldn’t fail. Smoothing down my clothes like I was smoothing down my soul, I reminded myself who I was and what I was here to do. It was not to play with that woman, but to get answers.
Ion winced, peeling off his coat and shirt. He threw the cabinet door open and pulled out the first aid kit. His sloppy use of the alcohol wipes, the loose wrapping job, everything he was doing was half ass and made my skin crawl, especially if it was a deep wound. He knew better.
I went to him, yanking his hand away from his side to see that it was just a flesh wound; he would heal just fine soon enough. Cezar was nothing, if not precise when it came to knives. He knew what he was doing. “You’re fine. It's not deep. No stitches. You’ll heal soon.”
Ion scoffed, grabbing the alcohol wipes off the counter and running them down his side, gritting his teeth through the pain before readjusting the gauze over the wound and wrapping it tighter around his waist. Leaning against the counter, he glared at me. “Why do you let him do that shit?”
It was an age-old fight Ion, and I had fought many times before, so this was due. Turning away, I flicked my hand, “You didn't have to step in.”
I could hear him grit his teeth, squeezing the counter's edge to stop himself from doing something stupid. “I did that for you! He was coming for you with the knife to your back.”
Lifting my eyebrow, I glanced at him, unimpressed. “And?”
His hands turned into fists at his side, and I wished he would just let it go, let Cezar be Cezar, and stop trying to put him in the same box he and I were in. We’ll never fully understand Cezar, but he was our brother, and that was that. You didn't get to pick your blood. If I did, the change would come at the top, not the bottom.
“And?! That's your fucking answer! Jesus, Nicu, do you have a fucking death wish? Do you want him to kill you?”
Did I?My jaw clenched. I really didn't know. The only thing I knew was that I failed him. Hearing Cezar’s six-year-old cries just as the door closed on him still haunted me to this day. I failed Cezar in the worst of ways. Something I’ll regret even past my death. I was his older brother, and I just stood back and let that happen to him. I did nothing. Too scared of our shared monster, too afraid of what would happen to me if I did do something, so I let the wolves eat him, and this was what became of him. It was my fault, so I had to take responsibility.
“No. I just know I can handle his outbursts.” Lie. That wasn't the reason, and we both knew it.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Fucking hell, Nicu. You’re doing your job, and he went off the handle. He needs to be leashed, especially around that woman.” He glared in the direction of the room she was in. “Who knows how she slithered her way into his mind to make him like that.”
Was that what she was doing to me? Slithering into the hollow crevices of my mind and making my heart beat again? I needed to be numb to the pain, to feelings, numb to the problems, numb to the world if I was going to survive him and keep my brothers at my side. Cezar had never had that kind of problem. His was all about his past, about what happened that night that changed him forever.
Shaking my head, I knew she wasn't his problem, at least not the real one. “No. She’s something else. Something the voices are telling him is worth something… and his voices have never been wrong. You know that.”
Even if I didn't believe in all that hocus pocus and weird superstitious shit that the heads of the families did, that didn't mean that I would ignore the results. Whenever Cezar’s voice told us something, it came true ninety-nine percent of the time. It was unexplainable, but they hardly ever failed him.
Ion ran his hands over his face; exhaustion took hold of him. I couldn't help but focus on the ripped shirt with red stains. I tried to look at something else, but my eyes kept drifting over to that unkempt look he had going on, and my fingers were twitching to tear it all up. Trying to calm my mind, I focused on what else was happening with Ion. Dark circles were beginning to take form, and his leg was bouncing up and down obnoxiously.
“I need a bump,” he sighed, pulling out his phone, and my anger surged. Did he not understand our situation?
Swiping my hand out, I knocked the phone to the floor and stepped up to him so I was in his face. “What did I fucking tell you? We’re to lie low. No one should know we’re here. Fucking no one. Not any of your drug hookups, not any fucking pussy you're trying to stick your dick in. Fucking. No. One.” Grabbing his shoulders, I smashed my forehead against his, trying to drill in my point with pain. “I didn't think I needed to spell it out for you, but we’re in enemy territory. This is just a holdover place until I get ahold of Father and get us the fuck out of here.”
Shoving him, I backed up, taking a few breaths to calm myself down and rearrange my shirt from our scuffle. Just because we were thugs didn't mean I had to look like one. “Do you understand?”
Ion's eyes flared; the need to fight me, to take out some of that anger from being told he couldn’t have his drugs, rode him hard, but he swallowed it back and gave me a clipped nod. With that solved, I turned to walk into the other room when his big fat mouth couldn’t help but call out, “And whose fault is it that our safe house in the States became a spot for those fucking cockroaches to infect? Maybe after attending your fancy college, you should’ve stayed in the States, made a name for us here, and kept this territory safe.”
I knew it was the withdrawal talking. I laid down the rules, and he was pushing back, getting angry, pissing me off. It's what addicts do, but I needed to be stronger than him. I wanted him to get past this and think clearly by the time we left here. This would be the only opportunity I had to get him clean. In Armenia, our father spread the three of us too thin, keeping us at a distance to control us, so this was a golden opportunity to get him away from his influence.
Keeping my voice low and controlled, I gave him an honest answer. “That wasn’t my choice, now was it?” Ion blinked. I watched as his mind turned and processed. I hoped he understood that we never got to do what we wanted; it was always whathewanted from us.
He wanted me to be the next leader, so I needed all the prestige and pedigree to go with it. Ion was to own the nightlife and understand the ins and outs of the business, so he needed to act and think like the rest of them. Cezar was to be the executioner, the one to finish any war, and that meant he needed to be a killing machine, to feel nothing but blood lust. We all had our parts to play in our father's production, but it was never a path we’d chosen for ourselves. He made sure of that.
His hand went to the back of his head as he looked down, not knowing what to say as he realized what he said. Taking a few steps towards him, I cupped the back of his neck. “We’re going to get through this. All three of us. Just trust me and take my lead.” I wasn't talking about just this mission; I was talking about the rest of our lives. I wanted my brothers with me, the only people I consider family, by my side until the end.
His weak nod was more than I expected. He knew about his problems and didn't like himself enough to fix them, and I…. I didn't know how to fix a problem like that, so I pushed it off as something to fix later. It wasn't killing him, right?
The door sounded, and I knew Cezar was coming for me, so I braced myself for his ire.
“What did I tell you? What did I fucking tell you!?” His face vibrated, eyes narrowing on me like a hawk closing in on his prey.
This time, Ion only glared at him as he stayed back, letting me take care of the situation. It was a wise move since he might get stabbed again.
Folding my arms, I faced my baby brother like he wasn't a rabid dog about to bite me. “I did what I always meant to do: get answers.”
