Love and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  I grimace. He’s right.

  Though, I still can’t help but feel like leaving her behind is a mistake, but fuck, there’s no way in hell she can tag along in her condition. It wouldn’t even be safe for her to do so if she wasn’t pregnant.

  “And Finlay? Still hanging on by a thread?”

  Creed starts walking out and I follow. “Barely. But that’ll change. I have something up my sleeve for him today.”

  There’s an ominous threat in his tone. I shake my head and chuckle darkly. I can’t deny that when it comes to torture, Creed’s methods are…creative and effective. The last few times I’ve seen Finlay, the man was already beyond broken. He’s still strung up, now beat to a pulp after the beating he took from Kam, Jose and me. We all took turns going at him. He betrayed all of us. He killed the one woman who protected us and the way I see it, justice won’t be served until he meets a fate worse than death.

  I’ve spent so much of my time trying to force myself to believe that I’m better than this, better than the torture, but the truth is? I’m not. I used to think Creed and I were complete opposites—worlds apart—that’s not the case anymore.

  I follow Creed down into the basement, and my nose curls at the smell inside. Fecal matter and all of Fin’s bodily fluids linger in the air, the evidence across the floor. Creed watches him for a bit, with his head cocked to the side, like he’s thinking—or plotting—before he comes up with a decision and closes the distance, walking straight up to him. The floor is still littered with blood from Zen. His body has long been taken care of and disposed of.

  Creed steps over the mess on the floor near Finlay and he grasps the chain on the hook. He yanks up, freeing the chain and then lets it go. Finlay’s body goes sailing toward the floor. His back collides with the tile and that seems to rouse him. He groans out in pain and rolls onto his side. Coughing out in pain. It sounds wet and guttural, and I can’t help but cringe.

  He’s at his lowest. And looking at him right now, I’m not sure how much longer he’s going to last. If he will even last.

  “Are you staying?” Creed asks, not looking at me, just watching Finlay as he squirms on the floor. I scrub a hand over my head and shake it, deciding to head inside and check on Soph instead.

  “Not today.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything more. I take that as my cue to get out before Finlay’s pained cries start up again. Leaving the basement and the rancid smell behind, I go to check in on my sister.

  I knock softly on the bedroom door and test the knob, to peek inside when I get no answer. I find Sophia sitting up in the gigantic bed. Her face is swollen with sleep and her hair looks like a bird’s nest, sticking up in all these different directions.

  Must’ve been some nap.

  “God, what time is it?” she yawns, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

  “Just about dinner time. Hungry?” I’m not taking no for answer, no matter what she says.

  “Most definitely, but honestly, I don’t feel like getting out of bed, can you bring it to me? Pretty please.”

  With a chuckle, I turn on my heel out of the room. There’s no need to answer; my sister knows me well enough to know I’ll get it for her.

  After I bring food back up for Soph, she rests on the bed, eyes glued to the TV on the opposite side of the wall, facing the bed. I’m sitting in the chaise next to the bed, eating with her and watching this dumb shit she seems to be hooked on. One of those rom-coms she used to watch all the time when we were younger. We eat in a comfortable silence, every now and again, I’ll look at her plate to make sure she’s eating enough. She seems to be doing fine. Pasta is one of her favorites so it helps that the staff in the kitchen have been making her foods she enjoys but still rationing and keeping things healthy for her during the pregnancy.

  “How is he today?” I jerk my chin toward her stomach. I swear, every day I see her, her stomach looks a little bigger than the last. That’s not even the weirdest part. Just seeing my little sister, the person I’ve always protected, the little girl I practically fucking raised, pregnant? Yeah, weird doesn’t even begin to fucking describe it. In a way, it’s like a father finding out his daughter is having her first child.

  Soph has always been this tiny, petite little thing that I’ve worked so hard to protect and now…fuck, now she’s a goddamn woman, about to start her own family. She’s going to have a kid for Christ’s sake. A living breathing kid. Someone that is going to look to her and his dad for guidance. I still can’t even wrap my brain around the idea of it all.

  She’s only going to be twenty-five. She’s still a fucking baby in my eyes, but I guess, I can’t keep her under my wing forever. Seeing her with Creed, nothing has made me realize it more. I’m not the only person in her life anymore. She has someone else who’d put his entire life on the line to protect her now.

  I’ve seen the shift Creed was talking about earlier in her. After the park incident, I never wanted to scold or reprimand my little sister so much, but it seemed like the days and weeks that followed, I saw a different side to my sister. A maternal side. She was constantly in her room resting, or out in the garden reading baby books, or looking up things on the internet. She was hell-bent on finding the perfect theme for the nursery. The perfect equipment. His crib needed to be the safest, as well as the bassinet and the changing table. She took extra care while washing his clothes, demanding that she be the one to do it because she needed to use the perfect amount of some weird newborn detergent.

  I’ve never been more proud of my sister. Watching her grow up. I can’t deny that there’s this tightness in my chest whenever I look at her. She reminds me of my parents and my obligations. But that weight that I’ve felt ever since my parents were murdered, it’s not as heavy, because now I know for certain she can take care of herself, and what’s more, she has someone who wants to take care of her.

  “Active as usual. Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks, eyeing me warily. I smile and rub my hand across the back of my neck.

  “I was just thinking about how crazy this is. All of it. The fact that you’re going to give birth in a little less than a month.”

  Sophia winces. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been reading articles on childbirth and how to prepare—and let me tell you, I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared for it.”

  “You’re gonna be fine, Soph.”

  She nods and darts her gaze down to her hands that are wringing in her lap. “I wish Mom was here. Especially now. She’d know exactly what to say to make me feel better. Not that you aren’t saying all the right things.” She’s quick to add like she doesn’t want to offend me. “I just…I feel like I’m in this alone, and I know that sounds horrible because I have Creed, but he’s been so distant lately and he’s…well, frankly, he’s not a woman, he’s never had, nor will he ever have to push a human out of his body. I’m fucking scared, Gar.”

  I blow out a harsh breath, wishing I had some advice to give her. Something smart to say that my mother would’ve no doubt helped with, but I have nothing. I don’t have any way to settle her fears other than let her know, she’s going to do fine, so I do just that.

  “You’re going to be a great mother, Soph. Mom and Dad would be proud.”

  I stifle my groan when I see her chin quiver and her lips start to tremble.

  Great. I’ve made her cry.

  “I miss them, Gar. Every day. But now that we’re almost there, to the finish line…I miss them more than I ever thought possible.”

  She sounds so small and broken, and in this moment, I don’t think I’ve ever hated Finlay more. He took my parents from us. Took a mother from a little girl. Took a father who was meant to show love and protect his daughter, he took all of that away from us and left it on my shoulders.

  Earlier, while in the basement with Creed, I actually started to feel an ounce of guilt for all the torture. I wanted to tell Creed it was time to end it. Put Finlay out of his misery but seeing my sister lik
e this? So close to giving birth without our parents here makes me side with Creed. A lifetime of torture would never be enough. He spent years planning. Plotting the demise of my family. Threatening to take my sister, to hurt their baby and everything else in between. He’s truly getting what he deserves. I’ve never been more sure.

  “They’re still here, Soph,” I say, steeling myself. Trying to stay strong for her. Always staying strong for her. “They’re here with us every day.”

  She smiles through her tears, resting her hand on her stomach. “I know they are.”

  Sophia pushes her plate aside and reaches out, grasping onto my shoulder, pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her back, but careful not to hurt her.

  “I love you so much, big brother Garrett.”

  Fuck.

  I fight the stinging behind my lids and squeeze a little harder. “Always, Soph.”

  Even though my little sister was growing up, she’d always have me. That was a promise I’d take to the grave.

  Everything about the atmosphere tonight seems desolate. The Chicago sky is darker than it has been the last few nights and it seems colder too, a brisk wind that rattles your body seeping all the way down inside your bones, leaving a strange iciness filling your lungs.

  It’s unsettling.

  We move in sync, the sound of heavy, booted footfalls on pavement echo around us, grips tightening along weapons in anticipation. Cold puffs of air swirl near our mouths with each exhale.

  Just as discussed, we break off in twos, surrounding the warehouse. If these men are any good, they likely already know we’re here. Kam and Jose slip around back, sticking to the shadows, Monte and Clarence both taking each side of the warehouse, looking for an in, while Creed and I brave the front entrance of the steel warehouse. It’s silent. The air is still. Much too quiet. If the warehouse is as old and as abandoned as it looks, there should at least be noises that tell of how empty and unused it is, but it’s too silent. Almost as if whoever is inside is purposely staying quiet.

  Just when I think we’re going to slip in quietly through the front, Creed’s booted foot kicks in the steel door where the padlock is, breaking the damn thing. The sound is like a bomb going off, it’s a deafening echo. Creed yanks the steel up, the steel roller retracting, opening like a garage as he storms in; the minute he does, a booted foot flies out from the shadows, which he dodges. I don’t have time to watch any further, because a fist jabs into the side of my skull, jarring me long enough that someone is able to wrangle themselves on my back like a fucking ninja, squeezing what feels like cable ties around my throat and pulling, cutting off my air supply. Rapid gunfire pops off around us, indicating the other guys have been found as well.

  I rear my fist back, my skin making painful contact with the person trying to choke me. Maneuvering my submachine, I rear the butt back, slamming against the person’s face. I hear the crunch then the offenders grunt of pain. The cables around my neck loosen, and as I suck in a breath, I grip onto shoulders and slam the heavy body down over me. His back collides with the hard floor, his head smacking the cement. Whirling the submachine back around, I raise it, firing off two shots in his skull. When I pick my gaze up, taking in the chaos, scanning the darkened warehouse, I see the bullets fire from barrels of pistols and AKs. Each bullet sparking, practically fucking glowing when it leaves the chamber before coasting through the air, disappearing into someone’s body.

  “Gonna stand there all night or you gonna fucking help, Cova?” Jose growls as he sprints past me, firing off a shot as he goes. I snap out of it, spotting a darkened form on the upper level. I aim the submachine, firing off quick shots, and watch his body flip over the railing up top, smacking and exploding on the floor.

  I spin, doing the same thing twice more until the gunfire ceases. A glance around at the guys who look only mildly disheveled tells me we got them all.

  “Well,” Jose wheezes. A smattering of blood having sprayed along his neck and jaw. “That was easy.”

  “I’m sure that was the point. Miles won’t be as easy to dispose of as they were.” Creed’s voice is filled with grittiness. Like he’s already thinking about how he’ll make Miles take his last breath.

  “What do we do now?” Kam asks.

  Creed starts walking. “We burn it down.”

  And that’s exactly what we do.

  I FELT HIS BODY GIVING up on him. After all the torture and pain, his body was shutting down. It didn’t matter that I took my time with him. It didn’t matter that I purposely kept him alive so he could suffer. He was still dying.

  That wouldn’t fucking work for me.

  I watched with a scowl on my face as the demented light in his dark brown eyes dimmed to black pools of…nothing. There was nothing left of Finlay but a bloodied, mangled body. A body I’d shared around with the guys, letting them beat until he was swollen and bleeding. A body I left strung up for weeks. A body that was stabbed, skinned and everything in between.

  Instead of letting him die. Instead of closing this chapter, like I know deep down I should, I still want to make him pay. For hurting Sophia. Nearly killing our baby. Taking half her family from her. I want him to suffer like he’s made my woman suffer.

  With a sigh, I dig in my suit pocket and pull out the syringe filled with epinephrine and a concoction of a bunch of other shit that isn’t legal. I made Dr. Chang’s associate give it to me for this specific reason. It was like deep down, I knew I would need it today. Gripping Finlay’s thigh, I jab the needle into his leg, pumping the drug through his system, waiting for it to work its magic.

  And when it does, I can’t fight the sadistic grin that spreads across my face.

  Finlay’s body jolts to life as he sucks in a sharp gasp. His eyes fling open, and he stares at me in complete and utter horror. His face is ashen white, the pallor is beyond sickly, looking gray with death. His eyes are bloodshot and yellow filled, like he has jaundice. I rake my gaze across every broken inch of him, and there’s no ignoring the thrill of satisfaction that shoots down my spine. Leaning into his personal space, I slowly pull the needle from his thigh and glare at him, staring right into his eyes.

  “I’m not even close to being finished with you, Finlay. We’re only getting started,” I whisper coldly. The sounds of his broken cries are like music to my ears.

  I’ve stayed in the basement with Finlay longer than I should. I know that. Sophia is starting to realize it, too. She’s starting to ask questions and frankly, I’m running out of answers. Running out of excuses. After she waited up for me into the early hours of the morning, I should’ve ended things today. But there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to. There’s a twisted part of me that’s enjoying the torture far too much. It’s a stress reliever. It eliminates the need to wreak havoc and chaos.

  I don’t want to worry Sophia with the FBI or the issue with Miles and HawkFire that still need to be taken care of. The last thing she needs is stress. She doesn’t need to worry about me being hauled off to prison, or imagining me torturing Finlay. She just needs to focus on herself and the baby. That’s all that matters.

  I’ve been giving Alexis, Magdalene and the rest of the staff instructions to keep her busy. Keep her away from the basement, but with Alexis leaving early next week, I don’t know where the fuck that will leave me. While the rest of us will be gone, taking care of the HawkFire situation later this week, I need to know she’ll be okay. That she won’t get curious and stumble into the basement while I’m gone.

  Part of me felt bad for keeping all this from Sophia, but I never lied. When I told her in no uncertain terms did I want her a part of the darkness that comes with the job, I wasn’t lying. That included this. That includes Finlay and everything else that comes with it. I know what her argument will be. That she deserves to know. That this isn’t just about me and she’d be right. But what she won’t understand is the basest need to protect what’s mine. To claim what’s mine. Finlay tried to take that from me, ti
me and time again. He tried to take her, the only woman that’s ever held my heart in the palm of her hand. It’s only fair I make him pay for it.

  She’ll be angry as hell when she finds out. There’s no doubt. But I’ll be ready for her when she does eventually find out.

  “Get up, piccolo merda,” Giovanni growls, hovering over me.

  I press my palms against the cool tile, slipping against the blood coating my hands, the fatigue in my joints, the absolute pain swimming through my body.

  “You wanted to act like a man, Diavolo?” my father grits outs, somewhere behind me, hidden in the shadows. “You want to be tough, boy? Well, now’s your fucking chance, stronzo.”

  I stumble to my feet. Shaking my head as I regain balance. “I-I wasn’t—”

  “Silenzio!” Matteo barks, stalking out from behind me. “When you speak to me, you fucking speak clearly, understand me?”

  To drive his point home, he nods to Gio who swings out, his fist planting itself in my face, making itself at home. I stumble, blood dripping down my face like a leaking faucet.

  “You let others see your pain, see your anger, and it makes you weak!” Instead of Giovanni swinging out, my father’s fist sails into my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

  “He was talking about mamma!” I yell back, wheezing through the pain, just thinking about what the man was saying about my mother. She was beautiful. Everyone in the Cosa Nostra knew that, it didn’t mean they could talk about her. Even in death. She was a topic of discussion and I hated it.

  I don’t even remember all of what he said, one minute I was there, listening to my father and Gio’s orders when I tuned into his private conversation. I heard her name fall from his lips. Then his laughter. Red seeped into my vision. And for the very first time I wanted to inflict so much pain on a person, it frightened me. Just not enough to stop myself from flying at the man and tackling him. I roared with rage, jabbing my fists into his face. Reaching for his knife, trying to sink the sharpened blade into his neck. It wasn’t until a steel grip closed around my wrist and the blade, forcing me to let go, that I was dragged away. Down in here.