It was like a faraway car horn that just didn't stop going off. Like a car accident in a highway during a bad traffic jam. And the horns were blasting and people were screaming at each other and I sat there, inside my car, with the windows all up and simply experiencing it without moving a single finger.
Except this was no accident and there were no car horns. Just this nonstop ringing in my ears that made me want to rip my eardrums right out. Maybe even stomp on them too.
There was screaming. A whole lot. The surviving leaders—we counted three dead. Forgot the countries, couldn't actually bother to remember, yada yada. Anyway, the surviving leaders shouted at each other, at me, at Nicolas and Veronica and Elijah, who stayed a few feet away, prepared to protect.
Nicolas left a moment ago, I have no idea when. He didn't move from Red Point, the guards told me that much. Veronica stayed close to where I was, trying her damnest not to cry and keep it together. She was failing miserably, but I couldn't hold it against her. Somehow, by some miracle, I was holding it together, but barely.
But they kept shouting and shouting and I knew my half-assed composure would soon wear out.
They shouted at my dad when he came, demanding answers, demanding a plan or a solution or a promise to be kept safe. As far as they knew, me and my people knew every step the Nine Circles of Hell took. But my dad only blew them off and watched me with worry from a corner of the room, his eyes red around the rims with tears shed a long time ago.
They all stared at me. In between screams and with accusing eyes, they all bore their fiery gazes at me like I was the fucking messiah. I did promote myself as much. Reap what you sow and all that sappy, told-you-so bullshit.
But I didn't care about the consequences of my goddamned actions when their voices rang in my ears like shrieks. I wanted to yank my hair, wanted to scream back, wanted to taste blood.
Instead, I spoke. Soft, but strong enough to turn heads and silence those who were already watching. "Quiet."
The noise in the room dwindled, but didn't cease completely. I gave it a moment, using that time to rein in the building bubble of rage in my chest. They didn't stop.
"Quiet," I repeated with more force and volume.
More heads turned to me. I hadn't spoken since I got here an hour ago. Not a word. The noise level lowered once again, but it didn't stop. I just wanted it to fucking stop.
"Quiet!" I barked, not loud enough to scream but to slice conversations with the sound of my voice and make every head turn my way and every mouth close instantly.
THREE HOURS AGO
Useless. Like a goddamned fucking weak piece of shit, you are useless.
As if I didn't know.
But I stayed in my spot, because attempting anything else was going to drive me up the wall. Or to empty my chamber in some poor bastards head. So I stayed still and waited for those who weren't as pathetic as me.
The villa was silent. After cleaning everything, after ordering people to find him, after losing my fucking mind and then getting myself together, I came home. We all did. And now I'm sitting in this couch, like a sack of shit, doing nothing.
So many had died. Piles of bodies were recovered. I felt the ice in my body begin to melt with every new body brought to the front of Red Point. And when I saw my guards, it took all of me to not do something rash. They were all dead. Every guard stationed outside to protect the premises had been shot and killed. 23 perimeter guards dead. 118 people dead in total. 1 missing.
I closed my eyes and saw the blue of Gabriel's. I wanted to reach and touch it, move back and see all his face.
"Are you hurt, Tesoro?"
When I opened my eyes, Dad was there. He kneeled by my feet, hand going to mine, and looked at me with a softness that made me want to let him into my bubble of failed quiet. When he started speaking, I did.
I shook my head. "Gabriel's gone," I said. They've been the only words I've managed to get out of my mouth. "They took him."
Dad rubbed my hand with his, providing a comfort that surprisingly worked. "I know. But we'll get him back. They're already looking for him, right?"
I nodded, feeling as though all the air I breathed was solid and lodged itself in my throat. Now way up, now way down. "Everyone I could get my hands on is looking for him. The Eyes, our contacts in that CCTV company, that mercenary Jinko that we worked with a couple years ago. They're all looking. But they've found nothing. No camera footage, no uncovered tracks, nothing. Like they just disappeared. Dad, it's been hours. Hours. Seven to be exact. And nothing so far."
Dad kept his hand steady over mine. "I know. We just have to wait. When we get sight of him, we'll be there. And we'll make them suffer."
"I should have known," I muttered under my breath, but he caught it. His hand tightened.
"No," he reprimanded. "How? How the hell would we have known that—"
"We attacked them, Dad. We went straight for them. I should have expected a counter-attack. Hell, I did. I just didn't expect one so soon. It's only been a few days since...since Mateo. I thought we'd have more time. I've been so stupid, Dad. Off in my own stupid little world, as if it'd do anything for—"
The door to the house slammed open as a guard rushed in. Dad shot to his feet and I followed suit. The guard's eyes were wide as he looked around the room, stopping when he saw me.
"Boss..." he said shakily. Every hair in my neck and arms stood at the pure terror in his voice.
I looked at my Dad, "get every—"
Behind me, the sounds of feet stomping on the marble floors cut me right off. I turned, watching as Nicolas stormed down the stairs and across the foyer. Veronica was right behind him, her eyes holding a terror deeper than I've ever seen.
I don't know what came over me. Perhaps it was that same feeling of terror, but I reached for my dad's hand. His eyes went to them before shooting back up to mine, worry embedded deep in his face. He squeezed my hand, mouth opening and closing from the struggle of never finding the words.
My heart beat wildly as I watched the twins come closer, dead-set on making it out the door. Nicolas carried a gun in his hand, knuckles white and every vein popping in his arm.
I tried to take a breath, but nothing came in. Nothing came out. My heart would not stop beating.
And then it did.
Nicolas passed right by me, his head turning for a brief moment as he said two quick words that set my skin alight.
"They're here."
Dad's hold on my hand tightened but I pried off and followed behind the two of them. Every step felt like going closer into the lion's den.
It was a little after sunset and the sky was only turning dark. Everything was blue. The sky was a color that just made you want to reach out your hands and scoop a piece off. The wind was light, only softly blowing back my hair. Ahead of me, Nicolas' gun looked like a shadow in his hand. Veronica only a silhouette that swayed in the soft light.
Every guard had their guns up, pointing where every pair of eyes was set. I caught up to Nicolas and Veronica, standing in between them as we stopped a half dozen meters from the gate of the villa.
"Guns down," I ordered.
It seemed like a night where you'd hear a wolf howl and the waters lay still. As if it were a crime to disrupt the moment where the day bowed to the night and wished it farewell.
The whispers of guns dropping and safety's clicking caused that disruption. A beat passed, then three and four.
Laughter. The kind that made your bones feel like they'd turn to dust if you had to hear it a moment longer. The kind that made you long for it to happen.
Donatello Lombardi stood on the other side of the gate, atop the bed of a truck, with a predatory grin on his face. He was the wolf. And he was preparing to howl.
I didn't dare move or speak or show the panic that spread through my body like bolts of electricity. Fear made me still. Fear that any movement would disrupt the waters and drown us all.
But I wanted to move. I wanted to grab Nicolas' gun—that now lay limp in his hand as his face showed utter defeat—and empty clip after clip into the face of my enemy.
Gabriel, my mind didn't stop reciting. Praying. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel.
He stood there, still as death, with Donatello Lombardi's knife to his throat. The silver glint of it was muted in the dim light. And his eyes, which I suddenly became curious if they'd match the sky's pretty blue, were covered by a dark cloth.
Both his hands were limp at his sides and his chest rose and fell steadily. Calm. I couldn't see any bruises on his body. Then again, we were far. But he stood there, tall and straight and the perfect picture of collected. So at odds with what the three of us had been for hours now.
There he stood, and I realized. With a pain so sharp I had to bite back a cry, I realized.
He had accepted it. He only awaited what came now. But his posture, his breaths, his so-very-still hands—he'd allow it.
Sting after sting spread through my body, starting in my chest and weakening my knees. But I forced myself upright, because I'd never allow an enemy to see me on my knees. Never again.
Later, I told myself. Later I'd cry and later I'd scream and later I'd fall to my knees, bowing to the world and mourning over all its injustice.
Now I stood. Now I kept my face like those calm waters. Even as I watched Gabriel blow out a breath. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew the fierceness would be there. I knew it'd be there until the end. They could do whatever they wanted with him but they'd never win over him. He'd never let them. Everything in me wanted to burn at the knowledge.
Then silver caught light as it slashed across, growing brighter and brighter with the blood it drew. Next to me, Veronica choked down a gasp, trying her best to keep it together. On my other side, Nicolas staggered back and I latched my hand around his wrist to keep him in place.
Gabriel's hands never once moved from their position at his sides. Even as Lombardi howled with laughter before scowling with the realization that we didn't give him the show he wanted.
He let the blood spurt and spray and stream out of him with that same conviction in his posture that he had moments before. But with every passing second, it weakened. More and more until his knees trembled and my heart slammed so hard against my ribcage that it might have left a permanent crack.
For a single moment, only the soft choking sounds could be heard. Followed by the thump of a body on the grass. Then my mind cleared and I realized I didn't give a rat's ass about still waters.
"Light 'em up!" I yelled with a force that made my lungs burn.
Bullets went off as the three of us raced to the gate. Nicolas didn't stop shooting for a single moment. I caught the gun a guard threw at me easily and focused every bit of my mind on aim as I let the automatic scream with the shrill of metal.
But it was too late. And we all knew it from the moment we heard the slashing of the knife. Maybe even since we stepped outside the villa. The car had sped away, not unharmed, but certainly not harmed enough.
Nicolas went down first, his knees slamming on the ground as he gripped Gabriel's bloody shirt and turned him over, face-up. He screamed. It traveled through the property in waves, crashing into every pair of ears and immobilizing all it touched.
Veronica went for his neck. Bile rose up my throat as her hands drenched in red. She cried, hard and angry, while she covered the deep cut with her palms. Every attempt was futile, but it didn't seem to deter her from trying to stop the blood flow.
I managed to crouch right by his head. My hands felt rusty as I touched his face. It was warm and soft and a sob exploded from my lips. I grabbed the blindfold and pulled it off his face, gripping it in my hands as if it should pay for what happened.
His eyes were closed. Long, blond lashes like rays of the sun caressed his cheeks.
They'll pay, I swore to the blindfold. In blood, in bones, in life and in soul.
I stuffed the cursed thing in my pocket.
CURRENTLY...
I rose, pushing off the armrests of the chair and stood there for a moment, holding together every fire in my body that was itching to explode.
Eyes followed me as I walked down from the platform. Elijah stopped at the raising of my hand. I didn't want anyone around me right now. I couldn't have anyone around me.
No one said a word as I left the room and even after I crossed the doors to exit the warehouse, it was silent. I sighed.
And the ringing didn't stop.