arms crossed, a smile playing on his lips. The gilded tips of his spiked halo, lit by the sun as his eyes dance with promise and mischief. And just as soon as the ray appears, it’s gone.
Taking a calming breath, I turn and unlock the door, pushing it open and stand frozen at the threshold baffled by the sight that greets me.
The interior is no different than it was the day before I left, though I can only imagine the damage done that morning. I’m fairly certain the walls house shells of bullets in between sheetrock and touched up paint. But all traces of that horrible night are gone, as if I imagined it.
If only that were true.
“No one leaves breathing.” I shudder as I think of the look on Tobias’s face when he gave that order. Tyler said Miami had pulled up ten cars deep.
If the ravens succeeded in carrying out that order, there had to have been a significant body count. And then there was the brotherhood side. I didn’t know them all personally, but I hated to think they’d lost more brothers that day.
Odds are, they did.
I’d accused Tobias when we met of being a petty thief who threw parties trying to downplay the extent of what I knew, all the while they kept me cornered, shielded, and safe from the ugly truth of the reality of what the war they waged entailed.
Dominic had admitted as much to me the night he died.
“You were amongst liars, thieves, and killers.”
And as many times as I was told, I still had to see to believe. And that night, I became a believer in the worst imaginable way.
But I understood their logic. They never wanted me exposed to it, so they distracted me, kept me ignorant to it for as long as possible because they didn’t want me to see them for who they really were—dangerous criminals whose bad deeds ran more along the lines of corporate theft, blackmail, racketeering, espionage, and if forced, retaliation that included bloodshed.
They were never cold-blooded killers, but they all had blood on their hands, and I share in that secret now.
Though I searched the web for endless days of any report on what happened in this house, I came up completely empty. Not a word was spoken, no reports on any media outlet, not even an obituary or service announcement for Dominic, which infuriated me.
I have no knowledge of what transpired after I left, but it was covered up in a way that is unfathomable to me.
For months I checked the papers, the web, searching for clues, arrests, anything pertaining to that night and drew a blank. I also checked Miami papers as well and got nothing. Not even in the nearby counties. It was eight months later that I finally stumbled upon an obituary for Delphine, who’d finally succumbed to her cancer.
And after that investigation, I checked out. I had no choice. My health and sanity were at risk by that point, and I had to give in and do their final bidding.
I had to try and move on, start to live some semblance of a life.
I’d spent months and months between grief and anger in the waking hours before I made a decision to try. I never returned Roman’s inquisitive emails on my well-being or progress at school, avoiding him altogether until the day he died of colon cancer two years after I left.
Not once after, had I tried to contact anyone in the brotherhood. I knew it would be pointless. Anger and resentment had helped me with that task.
I played along for the sake of self-preservation, despite my eyes being pried wide open by what went down here.
It was the decision of preservation that helped me forge ahead and finally yanked me from the spiral. But shortly after, the dreams took over, threatening to destroy every bit of progress I made.
I’m declaring a new war by coming here, and I need to be ready. It’s not just my sleep I want back. I’m not certain of exactly what my motives are. But my dream last night set this into motion, so for now, I’m going with it, knowing the truth will never really set me free, but maybe it will close a few doors, and I’m hoping it’s enough.
Shaking off the freezing rain and unease of being back at this house, I take a step in and close the door behind me as history threatens to come at me from all