DOM: Chapter 82

There’s something calming about the sound of weapons being cleaned. The soft sounds of cloth on blades. The click of bullets filling a clip.

And there’s something satisfying about knowing that everyone here is going to spill blood for me. For my family.

I stand, stepping out of my aisle, and move to the front of the plane.

King and Nero are in the front rows beside me, but they stay seated.

“You all know where we’re going.” I start talking, and everyone stops moving. “You all know the plan.” I move my eyes over the guys in front of me, a collection of Gonzalez mafia men and original members of The Alliance. “We’re hitting the compound at sunset. Earlier than anyone would expect. And that means they’ll have visuals, which is why we’re going to be silent. We’re going to kill them before they even know they’re under attack.” I look down at my brother-in-law. “Sorry, King, that means no rocket launchers.”

A few men laugh, and King looks at me like he’s wondering how I know about that.

I turn back to the men and feel the weight of the blades attached to my hip. “You have your assignments. And the timing. And we’re going to finish this without another casualty on our side. They’ve taken enough from me. And now I’m going to take everything from them.” I nod once, deciding to tell everyone here the why of it. “The man at the center of this is my uncle. My grandfather, Daniel Gonzalez, was a low-level man for the Colombian cartel when he was sent to Chicago for a job. But instead of doing that job, he met my grandmother. And, as he always said, a good woman can change your life. So he stayed. He abandoned his position, his shitty family back home, and he stayed. And if my grandma was half the woman my Valentine is, then I understand him completely.” A few heads nod, and I know they’re the ones with good women in their lives. “But my grandfather had a brother. And when he decided to stay in Chicago, his brother was murdered as a message.” I lift a shoulder. “All signs point to his brother being a piece of shit anyway, so I’m not gonna cry over it. But he’d already had a son. Another male in the Gonzalez line. And he grew up to be another piece of shit. A cousin to my own amazing father, but he never cut it. Never made rank in the cartel. And never mattered enough for anyone to end him.” My fists clench at my sides. “I met him a decade ago when he invited me to his home. I went. I kept my eyes open. And I told him to go fuck himself when he offered me a partnership that would give me nothing and him everything.”

The plane starts to descend, and I spread my feet apart, bracing against the change.

“He said I’d regret it. And the only thing I regret is not killing him right then and there. Because after that, he found money. And now he’s using that money to come after me. Some last-ditch attempt to make a name for himself. But he didn’t even come after me himself. He hired mercs.” Grumbling sounds from the men before me. They know how dishonorable that is. “And I’m pissed. I’m pissed that I didn’t put it together sooner. Pissed that I’d written him off. Pissed that my men have paid the ultimate price for my uncle’s grab at glory. And I’m pissed that he tried to kill my fucking wife.” My jaw flexes and I roll my shoulders back. “And that’s why I’ll be the one who kills him. Everyone else is fair game. Everyone on that compound works for him and knows the risk. There are no women. No children. It’s just a circle jerk of assholes. So they all die. And we all walk out.”

King rises to stand beside me. “You heard the man. We all walk out.”

Nero stands on my other side and cracks his neck from side to side. “The Alliance just got bigger. And meaner. Let’s give the world a little demo.”

As the tires beneath us hit the ground, I grin. “Welcome to South America, boys.”

“About fucking time.” My uncle slides his wine glass toward the edge of the table without even looking up from his food. “You trying to kill me with dehydration?”

“That’s not how I’m going to kill you.”

His head jerks up at my voice.

The room is lit by a gaudy chandelier hanging above the long, heavy wooden table. It’s an old-school dining room, closed off from the rest of the house, and set for one.

But it happens to have three entry points. And I took the doorway straight across from my uncle. So I’m the one in his line of sight.

And when he looks at me, I know exactly what he sees.

A man dressed all in black. Tactical vest. Holstered silenced gun. Long-bladed knives strapped to each thigh. Blood dripping from the tips onto the tile floor.

His mouth moves, but nothing comes out.

When I step closer, he tries to lunge for the gun he’s carelessly left on the table in front of his plate.

But he doesn’t see Nero standing directly behind his chair.

And when my uncle leans forward, Nero swings his arm down in an arc, fingers clenched around his own straight blade, tip down. When his hand reaches the bottom of its trajectory, and Nero’s hand swings back toward him, the tip of the knife pierces through my uncle’s shoulder, under the clavicle, and slides all the way through until it embeds in the wooden backrest of my uncle’s chair.

The pinned man screams.

And I sigh. “No point in screaming, old man. Everyone is dead.”

He tries to jerk forward, still going for the gun, but the knife holds him in place.

King steps into the glow of the light from the side entrance. “Nicely done,” he tells Nero, nodding to the blade, his own bloody knives at his sides.

Nero smirks. “Learned that trick from you.”

“W-what do you want?” my uncle grits between clenched teeth.

“What do I want?” I cock my head. “I should think that’s obvious. I want you dead.”

“You ungrateful—” he starts.

But I close the distance between us, slamming my palm into the butt of the knife in his shoulder, shoving it deeper.

“You want to talk about ungrateful?” I use my right hand to draw one of my blades free. “I was willing to let you live out your pathetic life down here, unbothered. But not anymore.”

I grip the knife in his shoulder with my left hand and jerk it free. It takes effort, especially since I just pushed it deeper, but the singing in my ribs reminds me how close this man came to ruining everything I have.

Sensing what I’m going to do, Nero grabs the back of my uncle’s chair and yanks it back from the table, giving us space.

“Gonzalez means Chicago now. You’re done.” I toss the knife I just pulled out of his shoulder onto his lap.

He curses at me, and Nero cuffs him on the back of the head.

“Pick it up,” I snap at my uncle.

His eyes flare, and I can see he’s going to be a bitter fuck right until the end.

He grabs the knife and stands, blood soaking through his shirt. “You think you can just walk in here and kill me?”

“Yes.”

Instead of coming at me, he lunges toward the gun like the coward he is.

But I lunge, too. And I get there first, my upswing catching him in the chin. The V shape of the jawbone allows my knife to go in smooth, like cutting through cake. And our joining momentum means that the sharp point of my blade easily pierces through the roof of his mouth, sliding up into his brain.

The knife falls from his grip, and his hands weakly grab for me.

“Say hello to your father for me.” My bicep flexes, and I shove the knife higher, twisting as I do.

The last of his life flickers from his eyes.

And it’s over.

I shove him away as I release my grip, leaving the blade inside his head as he falls to the floor.

Reaching across the table, I pick up his unused napkin and clean some of the blood off my hands.

Nero makes a sound close to a snicker. “Circle jerk of assholes.”

King snickers, too.

I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you idiots run The fucking Alliance.”

“You went to pretty long lengths to join us.” Nero lifts his left hand, flexing his fingers around his stained red diamond-encrusted brass knuckles. “Guess that makes you an idiot, too.”

I roll my shoulders and press my hand to the ache in my chest, feeling the strain in my sutures. But I think of Valentine waiting for me at home. I think of her and the baby she’s growing in her belly, and smile. “No regrets.”