Page 13 of Dangerous Silence
At the word ‘them,’ Wil’s eyes scanned the woods. “You haven’t found many, have you?”
“Only two so far.”
Wil nodded to himself. We had been upping our security in the woods, ever since Muro tried to ambush us with undercover soldiers. Luckily, we had destroyed his training camp and hired some of his ex-soldiers to our side.
But that didn’t mean everything was perfect. It was far from it.
“Sorry to hear about Shep,” Wil said, patting me on the back. Then he waved to another person, heading to their side. I scanned the place, finding that purple-blue-green hair instantly. Someone was speaking to her, an older couple, and Demi bobbed her head, clutching a soda can in her palms.
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. Gerard, my father, with his salted-black hair slicked back, kept his chin lowered in remembrance.
“Shep was a good man,” he said. I kept my eyes trained on the woods. “I’m glad you got to know him.”
Did my father realize that I knew Shep better than I knew him? That Shep treated me like a son, a true son, more than Gerard, himself, ever had? But none of that mattered. Gerard was too busy playing games and getting high to notice what was going on around him. Almost as if he got Clara pregnant just to have his children take care of the family business.
I let out a sigh. Gerard squeezed my shoulder.
“You hear anything about Midnight Miles yet?” he asked.
He likely knew everything from Derek, my older brother, who was next in line to take over officially as the boss. Which meant that his question was prodding at something specific. I wished he would spit it out. But I refused to give in and ask him what he wanted.
“You hear anything?” he asked again.
When I was younger, eight or nine years old, my mother had thought I needed therapy. I didn’t talk to anyone anymore, not unless I had to, and she thought that by sending me to a therapist, I would be fixed. That I would speak again. Gerard agreed with her, supported her whole-heartedly, found me the best psycho-therapist the mafia could afford. A woman who no longer had her license. Because working for criminals was better than working for civilians. It paid more. Made for more interesting cases. Even when the patient scared you.
But how do you fix a kid who watched people die almost every day of his life? Who has been told that he was meant to become the next lead enforcer, the next feared monster? A kid who every day, his mentor told him to never trust anyone, to keep his distance. Burned it into his mind that everyone, even the people you loved, could die tomorrow. That you could be next.
Gerard’s fingers twitched on my shoulder. My therapist had stressed that I didn’t have to speak to anyone, but that it would be kind to give them the courtesy of an acknowledgment. That always stuck with me. Courtesy. Acknowledgment. That’s all anyone wanted.
Finally, I shook my head.
“Look, Axel,” Gerard shuffled his feet. “I know you boys are concerned with Muro, but if he wants to negotiate, you should give him the chance.” I didn’t get the idea Muro wanted to negotiate. I said nothing. “I know that you boys are going to handle it your own way, but let’s not get carried away with bloodshed.”
Since the war began, several of our men had been killed. We had plenty to replace them, but that didn’t make up for the fact that Muro was trying to take over Sage City, attempting to eradicate us from a place where our family had established a foundation for many generations. So I didn’t understand why Gerard wanted to keep the peace.
Which was why enforcing was left to me, and not him.
“The funeral will begin in five minutes,” Clara announced on the speaker system. Everyone turned to her. She stood on the back patio with a wireless microphone in her hand. “Please meet us in the garden.”
The garden had strawberries, lettuce, the squash blossoms blooming, and a few trellises on the edge with jasmines clinging to the side. Plenty of folding chairs were lined up, as well as some cushioned seats for the elderly. The group shuffled forward, and Gerard found another person to talk to. I stayed on the edges, scanning constantly for danger.
The funeral celebrant went through the usual rituals, and when it came time for close friends and family to pay respects, everyone shifted in their seats. One of my men, Ron, went to the front, taking out the piece of paper I had given him earlier that day. He ran a hand through his wavy brown hair.
“Hi,” Ron started. He glanced at the paper. “I used to work with Shep a long time ago. In fact, he trained me. Made me the man I am today.” A few people nodded. Some of the people must have known that Ron was reading for me. Ron had been around for the last ten years, but Shep had been gone for almost twice as long. But I didn’t need to claim my words.
“And while I never completely agreed with his methods, he taught me one thing.”
Ron paused, looking around. He nodded at me, and I did the same. Our fellow enforcers kept their arms crossed. If there was a time to be sentimental, it would have been this, but it wasn’t like us to show emotion. My eyes washed over the group of people, wondering how many of them knew everything about Shep, and how many didn’t have a clue.
Demi’s hair caught my eye, a splash of vibrancy that rivaled the bright yellow blossoms behind her.
“Death is inevitable,” Ron continued.
At the apartment, Demi had chosen to stay in the bedroom, resting in a sleeping bag, only coming out when we had to make arrangements for the funeral. Most of the time, she deferred to me. What kind of chairs did she want to rent? Where did she want to hold it? Did he prefer a casket or cremation? In her mind, whatever I wanted was fine. The only preference she had was that she would not be speaking at her father’s funeral. I didn’t ask for a reason; I respected her wish.
And then this morning, when the time finally came, she took a steaming-hot shower. Left the door open. I looked in the foggy mirror, watching her. She had her hair wrapped in a towel, swirls of dye staining the fabric. Her skin was pink from the heat, her legs bare.
“There is nothing separating us from the animals we slaughter,” Ron said. “And that means that you have to make sure that you are always ready to die.”
