Page 29 of Hostile Bond
“I know.” Something dark and disturbed inside of me aches at the reality.
“She’ll understand eventually, Dré.” Tomás sinks the last of his whiskey and reaches for the crystal decanter to pour another. It’s been a long day for all of us. “If you don’t take his place, someone else will.”
My brothers understand the weight of a tormentor. None of us needs to unearth that chest of misery or crack it open to find the keepsakes of our mental turmoil. The cruel undercurrent of Papá’s lessons will never leave us.
Equally, Sinéad has her own box of nightmares to play with in the dead of night.
Giovanni sighs heavily and considers me for the longest moment. He meets my dark gaze with his shrewd jade. Lines of strain bracket his pouting mouth, his elusive lifestyle the one thing he keeps private, because of our father.
In between jobs, Giovanni visits us, but we never set foot over the threshold of his lair. That's the way it's been for too many years. Maybe now that Papá rules over Hell instead of his sons, Giovanni would open up his world to us. Or at least to me, his twin.
In this merciless, sinister world, family is everything.
“I’m coming with you, Dré.” He offers a tight smile. “You’re too invested in this and that's when mistakes happen. We’ll kill the cunt together––for Reno.”
Beside him, Matheus shifts to catch my eye. “What do you need from me?” he asks, genuine concern in his tone.
My kid brother isn’t a bloodthirsty warrior, structured from demons and torture. He’s Papá’s ultimate prodigy. Calculating brains, devilish charm, and suffers a deep-seated competitive hunger to be the best at everything he does. Where Tomás was the natural born heir and Giovanni the silent assassin, Matheus is a social media sensation, ranks at the top of his classes in university, and is the best cocaine distributor within the rich and famous inner circles.
He carries a matte black revolver, even though he’s yet to earn a signet ring of his own. Though it won’t be long. Not when our enemies are never too far away. The instinct to protect and slaughter circulates in every Souza’s bloodstream. One of these days he’ll shoot to kill.
My knee jiggles, my jumpy pulse unsettled. “I want you on standby here. Once we’re finished in New York, you’ll come with us to Europe. Meanwhile, I need you to start the ball rolling with the legal bullshit of Frankie’s will.” I tell him.
He nods. “And Acer?”
I prop my elbow on the table. “I’m going to stare that fucker in the eyes as he begs me to spare his entitled life. And when the flicker of realization snuffs out the notion of taking what's mine, I’ll pump a few rounds into his chest.”
Letterman speaks up from across the table. “I’ll check in with the pilot and make sure the jet is ready for takeoff. We’ll fly out first thing in the morning.”
“That’ll give me time to sort things out,” Tomás approves. “Keep a low profile when you get to New York.” He tinkles the ice cube in his glass as he thinks. “I’ll arrange a team to meet you off the plane and escort you to a safe house while they have Acer under surveillance.” He looks over at me with dark Souza eyes that remind me so much of my own. “Only go in when you know you can get out.” I nod at him. “If you guys don’t come home from this, Dré… I’ll take out his entire family tree and anyone else who’s associated with him. I’ll paint the fucking streets red with his blood.”
They all stare at me, their serious gazes blistering the skin on my face. Beside me, Giovanni shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “Are you doubting my aim,cabron?” he mutters to Tomás. “I’ll shoot the motherfucker dead while he’s eating his breakfast.”
“No. He’s mine,” I say in a low growl. “Everyone else is fair game, Gio.”
Tomás chuckles darkly. “You still think you’re the best shooter, Gio? Who won the last game when we were all together?”
“If I remember correctly, Dré went inside to get more liquor, and you disappeared when you heard Carina’s voice.” He looks over at Matheus and arches a brow at him. “It was undecided, right, Mat?”
“I think I was the one to bring the target down, but we called it a draw.” Matheus deadpans.
The last time we were together was for Papá’s funeral, and that was hardly a typical family reunion. I’d left Reno and Letterman in Miami to run things while I spent a few days with my brothers––and then watched over Carina as a favor for my big brother.
Now that we’re all together on a lump of prime real estate, it’s reminiscent of the balmy afternoons when we’d hung out at our mother’s private sanctuary. Back then, being at Mag Mell was a privilege and a salvation. Mama’s luxurious private resort allowed us to be reckless teenagers. We were free from calculated expectations and Papá’s constant, suffocating disappointment. I cherished those fleeting days of respite—we all did.
As adults, those days are simply hazy memories. Having the Souza brothers around the same table is a rarity. This could be the last time we're all together.
A heavy sickness churns in my belly. I could send sicarios after Acer like my wife had suggested or even let my lethal brother Giovanni fly solo to get the job done, but that's not how my brain works. Even my own mother, who adores me, would offer the same advice if she were here. Although I value her opinion too, I was trained to demand retribution and enjoy the satisfaction of exacting revenge in person.
Sinéad is scared of an outcome that would have Acer as the winner of this war. Which is why my pride will feed off the contentment of shooting him over and over again until my soul accepts that I’m undefeated.
My brothers understand the mission.
This is us.
We teach lessons through hostile takeovers.
Respect for our family is achieved out of fear.
