Dance of Ruin: Chapter 37

“You were six when they took us.”

Vaughn—the real Vaughn, apparently—is leaning against the kitchen island, eyes trained on his brother, who’s perched on the counter across from him, holding a gauze to his busted lip.

Like someone split a mirror in half and left the shards facing each other.

Same jaw. Same build. Same restless twitch in their fingers.

“I was seven,” Vaughn continues. “Mom and Dad had checked out a long time before that, though. It’d been you and me taking care of ourselves for about a year.” His jaw tightens. “Heroin, both of ’em. Dad boosted carburetors; Mom turned tricks in the living room.” He clears his throat. “They’re, uh, both dead, by the way. Died years ago.”

Jesus. I glance over to where Vaughn—no, fuck, Val—sits on the countertop, his face a stony mask as he takes all this in.

Naomi’s at his side, holding his hand. I won’t lie and say I’m fine with that. I’m not. But in this moment, given what he’s being told, I’m willing to give the fucker one pass. ONE.

“I’m sorry you have to find out like this,” Vaughn says as Val’s gaze drops to the floor. “I know you don’t remember anything after what happened⁠—”

“What did happen?” Val grunts.

“I’ll get there,” his brother murmurs. “The Obsidian Syndicate busted us when we broke into one of their fronts—this mattress shop. This was in McKeesport—” He pauses, frowning. “That’s where we’re from, by the way. McKeesport, Pennsylvania.” His brow knits. “Sorry, I’m not the world’s greatest storyteller.”

“Just keep fucking going,” Val growls quietly. He pulls my pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and slips one between his lips.

I sure as shit don’t smoke in my own house. But again, he gets a pass on that.

Vaughn nods. “It was winter, and cold as fuck. Mom and Dad had fucked off somewhere, and there was no heat in the house. Your lips were blue, and I honestly thought we might die if we stayed there. So we got our coats on and went downtown. I broke into the mattress shop because you were always saying every time we walked past it that those beds looked so comfortable.”

He glances away.

“The Obsidian Syndicate used this shop as a safe house because McKeesport is right outside Pittsburgh. When you and I walked in that night, they were in the middle of torturing some fucker about God knows what.” His jaw tightens. “They could have killed us for seeing that, but I dunno. Maybe they had recruiting numbers to hit back then.” He shrugs. “Either way, they took us with them that night, and brought us here to New York⁠—”

He nods his chin at the pack in Val’s lap. “You mind if I snag one of those?”

Val nods and tosses it to him. I scowl as Vaughn lights up.

“Yeah, just go ahead and set my whole apartment on fire with my own fucking cigarettes,” I mutter under my breath.

Naomi shoots me a warning look and squeezes Val’s hand.

Treading on thin ice there, ballerina…

“We went to work in a drug factory. It was mainly kids working there, actually.” Vaughn frowns. “Small hands, and kids don’t steal drugs. We packaged up heroin and coke for distribution to street level dealers…all day, scooping rocks or powder into bags, making sure the number was always the same on the scale. Rinse. Repeat.”

Val stares at him, unmoving.

“It kept us fed and housed,” Vaughn grunts. “And they weren’t cruel to us. We slept in a room with eight other boys, got three meals a day, and that was that.”

His hands curl slightly in his lap.

“Then there was a raid.”

Naomi’s breath catches.

“It was…messy,” Vaughn says. “The cops came in, guns blazing, shock grenades, the whole bit. I don’t think they knew it was kids working there. But you…” He grimaces as he takes a drag of his cigarette and looks up at Val. “You got hit. Not badly, but you got knocked the fuck out. The Obsidian guys were grabbing whatever they could—merch, the kids, whatever—and bolting out the back door as the cops were coming in through the front.”

He lifts his eyes to his brother again.

“They…they wanted me to check if you were dead or not.”

Vaughn exhales shakily.

“I knew what was going to happen if I said you were alive,” Vaughn says quietly. “I mean, it wasn’t a terrible life. It was a step above freezing to death in McKeesport while our parents shot up in a shitty motel. But you…” He looks away. “You deserved better. So I told the bosses that you were dead.”

Naomi covers her mouth.

“I slipped my wallet into your pocket when they weren’t looking so you’d have some money. I mean I didn’t know what was going to happen to you, but I figured the cops would find you, and…well, money’s always good, right?“ He smiles wryly. “I didn’t think until years later, when I was finally able to check to see what had happened to you, that my gym ID had been in that wallet.”

He laughs to himself, taking another drag.

“Me and some of the older kids used to play basketball at the YMCA down the street from the building we all lived in. One of the guards would take us, but we needed an ID card to get to the court. So when the cops found you, and you couldn’t remember shit, and since we look so fucking similar…”

“I became Vaughn,” Val says quietly.

His brother nods. “Yeah.”

For a long moment, no one says anything. The only sound is Naomi’s shaky exhale as she leans into her friend, her eyes darting back and forth between him and his brother like she’s trying to make sure she’s not losing her mind.

Val rubs his wrists, still raw from the ropes. He shakes his head slowly, letting the puzzle pieces settle into place.

Vaughn shifts slightly, glancing down at the floor, then looking at Naomi.

“You saw me once,” he says with a hint of amusement in his tone. “A few weeks ago. Across the street from the theater, outside the coffee shop.”

She blinks, then nods. “Right. I thought I was going crazy.”

“Nah.” His voice softens. “I was watching this guy.” He nods at Val. “I kept tabs on you for years,” Vaughn continues, looking at his brother now. “But always from a distance. I couldn’t risk the Obsidian Syndicate figuring out who you were. Who you were to me. I figured the only thing that would come of that would be them killing you, or dragging you into this shit.”

He rubs the back of his neck tiredly.

“But when they started moving into New York—when the orders started getting darker—I couldn’t stay away so much. Not with you in the city, too.”

He looks up again.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Val grins at his brother. Vaughn smiles back.

“So…” Naomi says, turning to her friend. “You’re Val now?”

Val lifts a shoulder, half-shrugging, half-wincing.

“I…guess so?” His lips twitch. “Never really felt like a Vaughn, to be honest.”

Vaughn snorts.

“You shouldn’t,” he grunts. “Vaughn can’t dance to save his goddamn life, trust me. But I hear you’re pretty decent.”

Val smiles, for real this time.

“Val,” he says slowly, testing it out. “I like it. Like Kilmer.” He smirks. “I’ll be your huckleberry,” he drawls in a not-so-terrible Tombstone impression.

All of a sudden, Naomi’s face hardens. She turns back to Val, brows pinched.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to your face, now?”

I brace myself when Val’s gaze flicks to me but he just sighs, glances back to her, and shrugs.

“Misunderstanding,” he mutters.

Naomi turns slowly toward me.

“Wait… Was this you!?”

Before I can say anything, Val slides off the counter with a grimace and walks over to me. “Nah.” He claps me on the jaw like an Italian nonna might, half jokey, half a warning.

That’s fair. I deserve that.

“Not him,” Val grins. “Although this one cares a whole lot about you, baby girl.”

Naomi flushes, her lips parting like she’s going to say something, then picks up a roll of gauze.

“Well, let’s get you fixed up,” she says. “You really do look like a wreck.”

Vaughn taps my shoulder.

“Let’s chat over here?”

We leave the kitchen, step over one of the bodies, and move into the living room.

Vaughn leans against the back of the couch, arms folded, expression sharper again now that the warm, fuzzy personal shit’s out of the way.

“Just remember,” he murmurs. “You gave me your word on the Black Court.”

“We’re taking the Marquis into custody today or tomorrow. Trial’s tomorrow night. That fast enough for you?”

He nods.

My brow knits. “What exactly are your plans when you take over the Obsidian Syndicate? Word is that you plan to set up shop here in New York following more of a mafia family business model.”

Vaughn says nothing.

“You can probably understand why I might not find that such an agreeable idea, given that my organization is a mafia family business.”

He shrugs. “Feel however you like about it, Nico. I will say, I don’t have any plans to go to war with anyone.” He smirks. ”At least—not immediately.”

Try it and we’ll see who knows this city better, motherfucker.

Vaughn smiles darkly. “But I also won’t forget your help with this. Unfortunately, that’s as much as you’ll get from me for now.”

There’s a pause. He clears his throat.

“You should talk to Naomi.”

“About?” I growl tensely.

“Her dad might be a self-serving fuck, but he’s not a killer.”

My eyes narrow. “Where I come from, giving the order is the same as pulling the⁠—’

‘It was a setup, Nico,” Vaughn exhales. “The Marquis really decided to take it personally when Leonard wanted to cut ties with the Syndicate. I think he had it in his head that the congressman was going to be President one day, and we’d have direct influence on the most powerful man on earth. So, when Leonard wanted to end our business, the Marquis set up that car bomb—which was meant for your father, by the way, not your sister.”

My lips curl into a snarl before he holds his hand up.

“Not my orders, and I had no say in that. The goal was to put it out there on the streets that Leonard had hired us to kill your dad, which would obviously mean you or your brother taking out Leonard. Problem solved.”

I stare at him. “My sister almost fucking died just so you could get someone else to do your dirty work of killing the congressman?”

Vaughn tilts his head. “Again, not my orders. But this is how we operate in the Syndicate.”

His eyes darken with a sudden flash as they glance past me to the kitchen, then pull back to me.

“I…know what was done to her,” he growls thickly.

That red-black mist swirls inside of me as my jaw grinds.

“That would also be the Marquis’ doing,” Vaughn says. “And that is not the sort of thing that the Syndicate will have any part in, ever, going forward,” he hisses quietly.

My eyes turn steely. “If you’re missing two of your men⁠—”

“I’m not,” he says flatly. “But I do hope you made the misery last. And so you know, I’ll be seeing who else in the organization may have had anything to do with that abhorrence. If I do find anyone else…” he looks right at me. “They’ll be handed to you on a silver platter to do with as you please.”

“I can work with that,” I grunt.

He takes a breath, folding his arms over his chest.

“She’s strong,” he says measuredly, nodding past me to where Naomi is standing in the kitchen with Val.

“I know.”

Vaughn nods. “She should also hear from you instead of the media, though, that I’ll be releasing some files soon. Leonard Kim’s name will be all over them in regards to blackmail and bribery.”

My brow arches. “Not that I really give a shit, but why throw him under the bus now? The Obsidian Syndicate suddenly has a moral compass under you?”

“More like I want cut ties with anyone who could have anything they might one day hold over our heads,” he says flatly. “That includes Congressman Kim.”

We walk back into the kitchen, where Val is a bit more patched up and helping himself to one of the beers in my fridge to go with yet another of my cigarettes.

He’s also still standing pretty fucking close to Naomi.

My jaw grinds.

I know I did beat the fuck out of him a few hours ago. But still. There are limits.

Lucky for him, Vaughn walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He smiles wryly as he and his brother look each other in the eye. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Val gives Naomi a hug. Just as I seethe past my breaking point, he releases her and turns to me, clapping me on the back.

Then, the two brothers—Val and Vaughn—walk out the busted front door.

Naomi turns to me slowly, hair mussed, blood on her clothes that isn’t hers.

Instantly, I pull her in, wrap both arms around her waist, and kiss her.

She melts—soft and warm and completely mine. Her fingers tangle in the back of my shirt as she leans into me, as if everything tonight didn’t happen. Like for a second we can just exist together.

She giggles into my mouth and pulls back, breathless.

“Hey, Nico?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Her smile curves.

“Could you take me someplace I can keep kissing you where there aren’t dead bodies all over the floor?”

I smirk.

“I can do that.”