“We got off the phone with him before you called. Mostly the same shit as Bryce, wanting to be sure we step up, and handle operations until they figure out who was responsible. Rowen redirected the funds for our legitimate businesses into ouroffshore accounts, so when shit goes down, we’ll be untouchable.”
“Nice.” Once we turned eighteen, we convinced Dean and Bryce to sign the legitimate portion of the businesses over to us, so if something were to happen, we’d have a base to land on. What they didn’t know was that we planned to cleave their dirty deeds from existence one step at a time.
“We’re a couple of weeks ahead of schedule now that someone else torched our first target. Should we keep the same timeline and finish what they started, or wait until the original date for the next hit?”
They both ponder the question, but Rowen’s the one to answer. “We should keep going. There’s too much uncertainty if we wait until the original date. Whoever torched the warehouse is competition, even if we don’t know who it is. We also don’t knowwhythey did it. Our resources are going to be stretched thin investigating the fire and continuing with our plan, but I think it’ll pay off.”
“Are all the accounts in place and legitimate? None of their shit’s going to trace back to us, right?” Ronan triple-checks the details, this stage having been orchestrated for weeks.
Rowen understands the seriousness and doesn’t mind reassuring his twin. “We’re attached to legal business holdings and accounts, including a hidden account in the Cayman Islands. Billions have been transferred through the accounts already as we enact our plan to dismantle every corrupt business they’ve built.”
A rare, genuine smile stretches Ronan’s lips. “Good. Let’s check this place for ourselves. Kain arrived first on the scene, confirming that this was intentional.”
Kain’s close to our age, dragged into this life the same way we were. That made it easy for him to fall in with us and use his access to security to our advantage. He’s one of the lucky ones—his father died a few years ago. Since then, Kain’s been quietly working alongside us, helping dismantle what this so-called business really is. “Is he meeting us there?”
“No, Bryce has him scouting the other buildings to ensure there’s no one lurking around.” Rowen replies from the backseat, a smirk thick in his words.
Turning down the gravel road, light wisps of smoke trail into the sky, but not revealing the total devastation until we round the trees. A low whistle leaves my lips when I see the proof. The building is a pile of rubble. Barely a beam to identify its original origin.
Kain removed the bodies outside of the warehouse before we arrived, but as we walked the remnants of the building, it’s obvious that he left the charred ones behind for later. Ronan does his thing and starts analyzing; his critical eyes observe everything with a sweep of his gaze.
He latches onto the piles of bones, tilting his head, a small smile grazing his lips before shaking his head as if clearing the thought. He continues until he’s circled the entire warehouse,coming to a stop next to us. His clothing is covered in soot, which smears onto his cheek from swiping sweat away.
“There were several simultaneous explosions. Rigged here, here, there, and there.” He points to each location, saving me and my clothes from traipsing through the same mess. A cringe runs up my spine, thankful that shit isn’t touching my skin. Ronan chuckles when he notices my reaction. “Diva.” He mutters before continuing. “Each explosive detonated against a load-bearing section of the building, which is why it dismantled easily, and burned with the fire. The workers were dead or at least disabled when the building went up. Whoever did this was familiar with their routine, picking them off one at a time, until they gained entrance. Once they were inside, they dispatched the interior men methodically and then detonated the building. Unfortunately, there’s no way of knowing whether the product was destroyed or stolen.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money or product. My only concern is whether they’ll interfere with the rest of our plans. We need to figure out who this is and eliminate them.” My fingers run roughly through my hair, popping strands free in frustration. Kimber can’t grow up the way we did—immersed in blood and drugs—and this is the only way I know how to free her. About a month after the worst night of our lives, Bryce and Dean forced us into a room where we killed for the first time, losing parts of our souls that’ll never return. “This has to work.”
My brothers hear the plea in my words and understand the desperation. We’ll never allow Kimber to end up like Reign. “Not going to happen, brother.” Rowen slaps my shoulder in support. The brief softening of his eyes is too rare nowadays, but welcome in my moment of doubt.
He doesn’t turn away until I nod, agreeing to get my shit together. “Call Kain. Send the cleanup crew to dispose of the rest of the building and bodies. We have three more warehouses to scout today, and then I need a fucking drink.”
Ronan whoops as he climbs from the ashes, wiping himself down. “Let’s hit The Underground. I need to exorcise some demons.” His crooked smile highlights the mania in his eyes. This fire has got us twisted, dredging memories to the surface where they no longer belong.
“No. The club. I plan on exercising in another way.” A practiced smirk tips Rowen’s lips, trying to convince us as much as himself that he can fuck our past away. Fuck Berk away. You’d think after years, he’d have gotten it out of his system. His eyes narrow, seeming to have guessed my thoughts, and growls when he walks back to the car, slamming the door behind him.
“You coming?” I turn to Ronan, finding he’s already gone. “Fucking Jesus.” Ronan’s turned into one scary motherfucker over the last few years. His skills surpass the rest of us, demonstrating them now as he disappears in plain sight.
Rowen doesn’t ask where his twin is, probably already guessing that he ghosted us—not for the first time. “Let’s checkthe rest of the warehouses before we hit the club. It’s too early for the wild ones to be out.”
Deflection. The art of suppressing every ounce of emotion—and instead of calling him out—I descend into the darkness with him, because acknowledging what’s glaringly in our faces isn’t an option.
“Sounds good.”
Chapter Five
Berkley
The grunts of protest and muffled pleas are music to my ears as I observe the surroundings of hisfamilyhome. His preppy wife is smiling back at me with her perfect pearly whites, and no care in the world. They have a young daughter—five at most—which compounds the disgust rolling in my stomach, knowing she would have been an infant when he violated my best friend.
Their home is lovely, something that I would have wanted to build a family in once upon a time with three brooding best friends. Now, the tidy household sends psychosomatic creepy crawlies across my skin, fueling my march toward his desk, smirking as he struggles to free himself. He’s tied securely to his chair—appendages strapped down to the wooden arms—hands splayed across the wooden surface of the desk.
“I’d be careful if I were you. That’s det cord tying you down. One wrong move and… Boom.” My fingers unfurl, replicating a bomb. His muffled voice is annoying, so I rip the tape off, and watch as he spits out his gag, drool dripping off his chin like an invalid. “There you go. That’s better.” I coo as if he were human, and not the scum on my shoe.
“Fuck you, you crazy bitch!”
“Do you know how shocked I was when I found out you were a judge? I mean, wow! What a piece of shit. Judge Jared Jackson, dickbag extraordinaire.” I giggle, tilt my head, and brush my purple hair from my eyes.
He watches as I slowly set a hammer and two long nails on the desk in front of him. “What… what are you going to do?” His voice shakes, as if he doesn’t get off on dominating those who are weaker, younger.