His eyes flew to mine, wide and shaky, fear creeping in at the edges—an expression he only ever had when his third voice was mentioned. He licked his lips before staring off, saying in a deadened tone, “It's time. She said it’s time.”
It was a fifty-fifty shot whenever I brought up his third voice. Either he’d fly off the handle, disappearing into a violent bender for days, or he’d become consumed with fear—more straightforward to control. This time, it worked in my favor. “Then we need to do it, don’t we? Two against one.”
His face transformed before my eyes, and his posture straightened as a grin spread wide. “Two against one makes all the fun.”
Turning around, I yanked open the door. “Plus, it seems our guest needs some time to think anyway.”
Cezar flicked his wrist, a flash of silver gleaming as bright as his smile. He threw his arm toward the man hanging. The chains clanked as the man flinched, his cry echoing around the room as Cezar’s switchblade sunk into his thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. Cezar pointed at the man, his voice low and serious. “Don’t lose that. The spirits of the dead are watching you.”
The guy whimpered, and Cezar flicked his hand at him before turning around to give me an exasperated look. “Work can be so taxing some days, ya know?”
I didn’t have time to babysit him anymore. “Let’s go,” I said, walking out the door and down the dungeon hallway. When I reached my car, I turned to see Cezar following me, his face, hands, and front covered in blood spatters.
Shifting my eyes to my car, then back to him, my jaw tightened. I didn’t want to get my car detailed again because of him. Grabbing a towel from the trunk, I threw it at him. “Set that down first.”
His smile turned feral. “Are you scared of a little blood, big brother?”
My whole body tightened, fingers itching to grab my gun at my waist and put him down. If he were anyone else, I would’ve. No one teased me and lived—no one but my brothers. I forced a breath out, pushing my anger down. Reminding myself that he was my little brother, and I didn’t want to hurt my little brother… much. Yanking the door open, I rolled my eyes and got in, not saying a word.
He laughed, did as I said, and set the towel down before climbing in. He reached out. "Ooooh, you always have such shiny things?—"
I smacked his hand away from my new gold inlay interior. “No touching.”
Raising his hands, he giggled. “Sure, sure. The prince needs his treasures to remain unspoiled. Unclean am I, and therefore unworthy.”
Turning away from him, I started the car and headed toward the city center, not speaking the rest of the way. Verbally sparring with Cezar was like navigating a minefield, and I didn’t have the energy for it.
The club'smusic vibrated along the asphalt and up my leg before we reached the door.
A deep frown marred Cezar's ordinarily jovial face. “I hate this place. Bugs and maggots... and not the good kind.”
Cezar was right. This place was vile—filled with liars, cheats, and cowards. Wrap that all up with drugs and booze, and it’s a cesspool for decrepit creatures who come out at night looking for prey. My youngest brother and I were the ones people feared and felt intimidated by—the next head of the family with a steel-cold heart and an iron fist or the psycho, blood-soaked executioner who enjoyed the pain he inflicted. But Ion was different. People gravitated to him naturally. He was the sweet talker, the master of whispers, the attractive smiling one who gave others a false sense of ease. The one you never thought would stab you in the back.
A hush fell over the people in line at the door, causing the security guard to look up just in time to scramble. His shaky voice followed, “W-w-welcome, Sirs. It’s an honor.”
Neither Cezar nor I acknowledged the man, walking past him as if he didn’t exist—because he didn’t, not in our world. Here, in the northern territory of Armenia, the Azadian family ruled the underground with an iron fist. No one sold drugs, guns, or girls here without our permission. No one.
The smell of sweat, sex, and desperation assaulted my nostrils. This was one of our territory's more prominent money-making clubs, bringing in more of the higher clientele, which meant more deals happened here. It was a hybrid mix of a strip club and a dance club, attracting mid-level money-makers. If you were truly rich, you had no reason to leave your home for drinking, company, or drugs.
Music blasted into my eardrums, and my whole face clenched. So fucking noisy. Prickles began to skate up and down my arms, fingers twitching. The smell of perfume and sex overpowered the space, making it hard to breathe. Pushing myself forward, we walked through the dark hallway lit up with red lights and overly sexual pictures on the walls. Girls with horns and tails doing every unsavory thing you could imagine. All of this was to give you the illusion that you're now in hell and anything was possible, but all I saw was a desperate grab for attention, which bored me.
I puffed out a laugh at the absurd thoughts of these people and how they played with the idea of hell. They tried to make it exotic and exuberant when they knew nothing of absolute hell. Flashes of sprayed blood filled my vision, her body being dragged. I was forged in it, lived it, breathed it in so fully that I was now numb to horrors that were always present when in hell. These foul deviants knew nothing.
Cezar's audible groan sounded beside me when we reached the main room. “Can I just stay outside?”
“No,” I snapped at him as I scanned the room for our brother. Cezar knew that this would go faster if we both approached him. Ion would be a pain in the ass if it were just one of us, arguing that he never interrupted our business, but if we both were here, then he would know it was on Father's demand, and he was not to be left waiting.
A few scantily clad people turned at the sound of my voice, eyes going wide when they saw us. They rushed to shove others aside, whispering in each other's ears as they made a walkway for us. Being known as the intimidating Azadian brothers who could ruin your life or take it gave us this advantage, and I would use it to the fullest.
At a clipped pace, we entered the back VIP area. The large velvet-covered booths were in a dim setting, roped off from the general public with guards posted. Ansee, one of the guards, worked for us and was one of our plants in this club. He nodded at me as he opened the ropes for us right away.
“And another to your health and mine!”
There was my brother, two half-naked women draped next to him, pawing all over him, as he lifted his glass with Navier Zakarian, his counterpart in the Zakarian family who runs the central territory. Only three families ran the various underground workings of Armenia: the Hovsepians in the south, the Zakarians in the central, and the Azadians in the north. All three are kept together by one shaky treaty that we try to keep going to prevent massive bloodshed.
They clinked glasses, lifting them high as they drained every last drop. Navier spotted me through the bottom of his glass and quickly put it down. “I didn't know your brothers were joining us. If I knew, I would’ve had more girls come.” He looked around at the eight women circling the two of them, “I don’t think we have enough, but I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” He winked at me with his stupid, idiotic grin, and I crossed my arms.
Ion swiveled our way. His clouded eyes bounced between Cezar and me, opening his mouth to yell out something in his high, drunken state, but I beat him to the punch. “We’ve been summoned.”
