Chapter 25: Beautiful Scar: Chapter 25

The house is like any other in this shitty neighborhood. Half the windows are boarded up, and the rest are covered over with newspaper. The whole block is one of those bombed-out wrecks the city forgot about and left to crumble and fend for itself. They’re all over Baltimore, festering deep in the most impoverished sections, and I always thought we could do better—find some way to clean them up. But that’s not Baltimore, and it’s not my problem.

Arsen is quiet in the passenger seat. Alexan is behind the wheel, and I’m in the back. I can’t remember the last time my brother came out on a job like this. Definitely not since Roman was born. We decided as an organization a while back that the patron was too important to risk, so now Arsen spends most of his time behind a desk and back in safety.

But I know it bothers him. Even if we’re not blood relatives, we were still raised by the same vicious, ruthless bastard, and he’s got the darkness in him too.

“We should rush it with all our strength,” Arsen says softly, watching the still night. There’s movement out front as a lookout changes position on the front stoop. The young kid is half asleep and probably getting paid in dope. “No reason to do this quietly.”

“We don’t want to risk the product.” According to Alexan’s sources, this is where some of the drugs the McGraths stole ended up. “And I really only care about Oisin.”

“You don’t have to go inside.” Arsen twists around and watches me carefully. “We have plenty of manpower.”

“They tried to kill my wife,” I say softly, meeting my brother’s gaze. He holds it, jaw working, and I know he wants to argue. If his life is worth preserving, then mine should be too. I’m an important member of the Brotherhood. So much of our day-to-day operations flow through me.

I don’t give a damn.

He knows me. Once I have an idea in my head, I won’t let it go. I’m as stubborn as he is, and maybe even worse.

But if he commands me, I’ll obey.

I’ll hold it against him. It’ll make me burn bitter with anger, but I’ll do what he asks because I’m loyal to my older brother. We’ve been through a lot together, and I learned a long time ago that I can trust him.

If he asks me to do something, I do it without question.

But even he knows this would be going too far. He faces front again, frustration written on every inch of him, but he doesn’t give the order I know he wishes he could spit out.

“At least bring men with you,” he says, nodding at the building. “You were nearly killed last time.”

“Last time, he got the drop on me. I’ll do better.” I check the magazine of my pistol and make sure there’s a round chambered before shoving my weapon back into my holster. I move to open the door but grimace slightly at the pain in my side.

“We both know you’re not fully healed yet, brother,” Arsen says, looking annoyed as he lifts his phone. “You’re taking backup.”

“I don’t fucking need⁠—”

“You’re taking backup,” Arsen snaps, glaring at me now. “That’s an order from your patron, and be happy I’m not asking you to sit this one out.”

Frustration wells up through my guts. I give him a long, hard look, and all the years pass between us. In the end, I nod once. “Yes, patron,” I say sharply.

He rolls his eyes as he sends the order. “Oisin’s yours, but I’d prefer him alive. He has information we can use.”

“I didn’t plan on killing him fast.” I turn toward the drug house, looming in the darkness. “His brother got lucky. He died fast. Oisin won’t share that same fate.”

I stride across the street before Arsen can tell me to wait. Nearby, men pile out of various cars, all of them disguised to look like normal empty vehicles. I draw my pistol and lower it at the face of the lookout on the front stoop.

The young man stares back at me, eyes wide, looking down the barrel of my gun like he’s seeing God for the first time.

“How many inside?” I ask. My men spread out around me. I count ten in all. A good team, well-armed and wearing full body armor.

“I don’t—I’m not⁠—”

I palm the kid’s face and slam his head back. He grunts in pain and shock, but I refrain from killing him. “How many?” I snarl, shoving the gun against his chin.

“Eight! There are eight! At least, I think so. Please, don’t kill me. I just keep watch for them.”

I release his face and shove him off the stoop. He hits the concrete hard and stares at me, terror in his eyes.

“Run,” I say.

He picks himself up and takes off away from the house.

Before Dasha, I would’ve blown his brains out the back of his head without a second thought. That’s cleaner and easier. No risk of him bringing back some friends to attack while we’re busy inside.

But now I see children everywhere I go. That kid has a mother. He’s got a father. I’d guess he’s no older than fifteen at most, with a long life of petty crime and a substantial prison sentence waiting most likely, but fuck it. At least he’s got a shot now.

“Go in,” I order, and my men swarm the door. One kicks and breaches, while two more hurry through with their guns drawn.

I’m the third one into the hallway. The place is an ugly mess of empty bottles and graffiti on the walls. Three more young men are in the front room drinking cheap vodka and playing dice. They shout and reach for guns, but I shoot them down before they can become a threat. Blood splatters across the walls, and one manages to throw himself sideways. He survives only a few seconds longer than his peers.

He dies with me standing over him, gurgling and choking on his blood.

“Downstairs clear,” the captain of the squad says. He’s a reliable man named Leon. “I’m holding the back and front doors.”

“I’ll take the next level.” I hold out a palm, smiling slightly. “Grenade, please.”

He hesitates. “Sir, grenades in a house like this⁠—”

“I know the risk. Hand it over.” Reluctantly, he gives me a cylindrical device. “Search the premises and find the drugs. Focus on the basement.”

“Yes, sir.” He hurries off to relay my orders as I stride to the stairs. If the lookout is right, there are five men up there, including my target.

Bullets rip down the second I peer over the banister. They miss my face by inches and send wood shards splintering into the air. I’m grinning big now, the thrill of the fight ringing in my veins. This is the shit I live for. Moments where my life hangs on a thread, and one small push could see it snap and send me tumbling into death.

“I know you’re up there,” I shout at the stairs. “I’ll give you all one chance. Bring Oisin McGrath to me, and we’ll spare you.”

“Fuck you, rotten Armenian cunt,” someone shouts back. He sounds just like his brother, that Oisin. What a kindly, fun boy.

I shrug to myself and yank the pin off the grenade. “Good answer,” I say, then throw it.

There’s a short lull. Just a moment where nothing happens. Maybe they don’t realize what I just did, or maybe they’re busy running, but I don’t care.

The explosion rocks the whole building.

I’m almost singing as I climb the steps. There’s a big hole at the top, and I’m forced to jump over it and haul myself onto the landing. The floorboards teeter and creak. One wall is ruined and on fire, the flames spreading quickly as smoke fills the air. I stay low and spot a shape in the gloom.

Two shots bring it down. More of my men are climbing up now after me, but they’re all in body armor, and it’s hard for them to get across the big gap, which is exactly what I wanted.

I move through the smoke, hunting. I find two Irishmen hiding in a room, one of them bleeding from an ugly shrapnel wound. I kill them both and stomp on their faces just to make sure they’re never getting up again. Glory rages through me, retribution and death eating away at my chest.

“Oisin, come talk,” I call into the smoke. Another person moves, one of the last remaining guards trying to reach the stairs, but my soldiers gun him down before he can even think about getting across.

Which leaves me and the last remaining twin.

“Your brother begged in the end, you know,” I say into the gloom around me. “Ciaran pissed himself and whined for you. Kept crying and blubbering; it was so pathetic. He died slow and painfully, and I mocked him during his last moments. I made sure he knew his brother was never coming and he’d never see you again. It made me happy, watching him piss himself and crawl around like a baby.”

“Fuck you,” Oisin roars and charges me through the smoke.

I meet him head-on like a lion. He hits me hard, and the pain in my shoulder flares as I block several punches on my good forearm. I feel stitches tug as I smash an elbow into his mouth. Blood splashes from wrecked and ugly gums. Poor Oisin really does look exactly like his dead and rotting brother. Except I bash his face, slamming my forehead into his nose, mangling him until he’s almost unrecognizable.

He lies on the floor gasping for air. Smoke billows around us, coming faster now. His chest rattles.

I shoot him in the right knee. He screams in agony. I do it again in the left. He curls up, catatonic and rocking back and forth, his legs ruined.

I stomp on both hands until they break, just to be sure he’s not going anywhere.

“Listen to me, you stupid piece of filth,” I whisper, leaning down into his bloody and ruined face. “You never should have come near my wife.”

“Seamus,” he whispers through broken teeth. “It’s Seamus. He’s sick for that girl. Oh, God, we had orders⁠—”

“Do you think I give a fuck? You’re going to meet your brother in hell now, you worthless pile of steaming shit, and I’m going to go home, kiss my wife, and fuck her while thinking about your burning corpse.”

Oisin’s eyes go wide when he understands. “No,” he moans as I pull away. He tries to come after me, but his knees are destroyed and his hands are shattered. He can’t crawl, can’t drag himself, can’t get up. “No, please, don’t leave me. Please, kill me now. Please, kill me!”

“Die slow,” I say and leave him there to suffer as the fire rages all around me.

I reach the steps and leap across. My men are gone, waiting at the bottom as the smoke billows around me. I’m going to stink for days from that mess. “It’s an inferno up there,” I report to Leon. “Did you get the drugs?”

“Most of them are already loaded up, sir. What about the Irishman?”

“Died in the fighting.” I clap the captain on the shoulder. “Good work. Let’s get out of here before it burns down.”

“Good idea, sir.”

We stride out of the house and into the cool night air. Around me, Brotherhood soldiers are loading drugs onto trucks. Arsen’s standing outside the car, arms crossed over his chest, a big frown on his face.

I’d do anything for my brother. I’d kill anyone, hurt anyone, burn the whole fucking world if he asked.

But nobody fucks with my wife and survives.

Fire flickers as it pours out the windows, and I swear I can hear the sweet music of Oisin’s terrified and agonized screams bellow into the night like a beautiful song.