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“Everything on the south side of the building is locked down,” Kenji answered, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow under the dull lighting.
“Same with the east side of the building,” Caleb answered.
I nodded and pulled out a small control. “All right, then. Cover your fucking ears, boys.”
The ground shook with the impact of the explosion, the sound nearly deafening. “Fucking hell, Kenji. How much fucking C4 did you use?” I yelled out. My ears were ringing, and I couldn’t gauge how loud my voice was. Caleb and Kenji both looked slightly disorientated because of the blast, but it only took a moment for sounds to come rushing back to full volume.
“What? I wanted to make sure it worked,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
Agonized yells rang out in the night air, but I couldn’t bring myself to have an ounce of sympathy for any of the fuckers trapped in that warehouse. They’d made the lives of so many fucking hell. They deserved to burn for it.
“Can you pick out which scream is hers?”
That voice sent chills up my spine. Every muscle was on high alert as I turned and aimed my gun at Enzo’s head. His coffee-colored eyes glistened with hate as he leaned against the hood of our vehicle, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans.
“What the fuck did you say to us?” Caleb asked, his voice low and menacing.
“I asked if you could pick out Scarletta’s scream.” He canted his head toward the inferno. “It’s been a little while since the whore let me fuck her, but I think I can still pick out her voice.” The smile that appeared on his face was downright evil.
Caleb’s body tensed, and even in the low lighting, I could see the color draining from his face.
“You’re lying, motherfucker,” Kenji bit out, his knuckles white against the hilt of his katana. There was a slight shake in his voice, a thread of uncertainty.
“Am I?” Enzo asked, uncrossing his legs and looking perfectly at ease. I glanced at Kenji, who was watching the asshole’s every movement for a tell. “I know you saw the light come on before they got here, right? Who do you think set it off? That fucking bitch deserves to die for leaving me.”
Truth rang out in his words.
I took off for the fiery building, ignoring my brother’s shouts as I called out the name of the woman I loved. Smoke smothered me, burning my eyes and lungs as I pressed through an opening created by the flames consuming the building with their greedy maw of destruction.
“Kolay.”
The heat of the warehouse did nothing to thaw the ice that ran across my skin at the boom of my father’s voice. I turned on my heel and came face to face with the man who’d tormented me since birth. His face was blackened with ash, the skin on his hands burned away, yet he still had a gun clutched in his palm.
“Kolay, this was you, wasn’t it?” He barked out a manic laugh—like a man who knew he’d already been summoned by death and was prepared to be pulled under. “To think I thought you were the weak son. Tainted by your American blood. But you’re just like me. No?” he asked before a fit of coughs.
“I’m fucking nothing like you,” I sneered, the barrel of my gun pointed directly at his head.
His beady eyes narrowed on me. “No, I suppose you’re not. Because it looks like you rushed into this fiery grave to save someone.” He spit on the ground in disgust. “What a pathetic thing to do. You deserve your death.”
The twitching of his wrist was the only clue I got of his intentions.
We fired at the same time, but the shots were nothing but whispers compared to the roar of the fire. I doubted my brothers had even heard it.
They won’t have a clue that I’d been shot.
My teeth jarred as my knees hit the concrete, pain radiating from the hit I’d taken. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the crushing reality that there was no way I’d be able to make my way through the carnage to find Scar. Not even the fact that I’d killed my father could soothe my agony.
I cried out her name until my lungs burned from the heated air and exertion. Each moment seemed to slip, my brain no longer able to make heads or tails of time. Tears streaked down my face.
I wished I’d heard her tell me she loved me before I died.
CHAPTER 42
SCAR
GET YOUR TISSUES OUT, OR NOT. MAYBE YOU DON’T CRY EITHER.
Fuck.
