Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tomás

I heard Kieran walk out the door and watched through the window as he slipped into the trees with a bow and arrow like some sort of wraith, swallowed by the trees. I dropped back on the bed, playing with both Daniel's and Dad's rings. They were an omen of some kind, I just couldn't figure it out. Having them in my possession felt so damn wrong. They should've been buried with them.

I'd been so damn stupid.

Anger bubbled to the surface, and I threw the rings against the wall. A satisfying thunk followed as they struck the drywall and fell to the floor. The satisfaction lasted a heartbeat when dread replaced it. Dad's stone had popped out when it landed on the floor. I half expected to see his soul rise, and he'd be pissed. I broke his ring. I had one job to do. One! Bury the damn rings. Secure their souls. And I broke Dad's. I felt the bad juju prickling my skin in warning.

Don't fuck with La Santa Muerte. It eventually gets us all.

I collected the rings. My brother's still intact, but my dad's ring had been modified. An SD card had been stuck between the stone and the ring.

My heart pulsed wildly in my chest. I knew the moment I saw whatever was in this small device I wouldn't be able to unsee. It'd be a message from the grave. The reason he was killed.

"Don't ask questions when you don't really want to know," Joaquín Moya always told me when I asked about shipments, or targets, or what he and Miguel were doing. "You're not ready, mijo," he'd say, smile, and pat me on the head as if I were a dog.

Dad had one strict line he had never crossed after the twins died at seventeen. We weren't allowed into the thick of things until we turned eighteen and made our own vows into the gang life. Nick and I had been the youngest. While Nick hadn't wanted any part of the life, I had. I wanted to show my dad and brothers that I could be useful. I wanted to show them that I wasn't Nick. That all the beatings they gave me had helped turn me into a man.

A fucking man.

I felt the laughter bubbling at my throat. What a joke. I would've been dead if Maddox hadn't saved me. Dead if Kieran hadn't pulled me from the water, and then saved me from Jack. I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't strong.

But I had to know. I needed the reason why they were dead.

I inserted the SD card into the slot on my phone and opened up the video file. An image of my dad filled my screen. Alive. I raised the volume, and the sound of his voice made my eyes water.

"What time is it going down?" Talis Alvarez asked. My dad had met with him a few times. Talis had even gone on runs with us. I'd spotted for him. Watched as he killed people who had robbed us. Kieran's friend from the club.

"Sunday at nine. We always make our runs in the morning." I recognized the voice of Trinidad Rosas, Sr., my dad's best friend. He was dead, too.

The camera shifted as Trinidad moved to a fourth person in the room with them. My heart gave chase, and I couldn't breathe. Kieran's face appeared. "This is the last one," he said. "We do this right, and you get payment and the Brennans won't be the wiser."

"How can you guarantee that?" my dad asked.

"Because I'm going to own it all. The business is going to be mine. You do your part, and I'll do mine. But remember," his voice turned cold, "you betray me, and your bloodline will be erased." The promised violence in his tone sent fear rushing through me. I thought I had seen all of Kieran's versions. I hadn't. This one was by far the deadliest.

I watched as Kieran walked out while the other three remained. "He better be legit," Trinidad said.

"He's as legit as they come," Talis responded. "You in?"

Trinidad panned to my dad. I already knew that look. I didn't know how much money Kieran promised him, but it must've been enough to risk everything. Even my father's loyalty to not only the Brennans but to La Sagrada Sangre and his family. "Yeah, I'm in."

Trinidad and Dad argued after Talis left over who should keep the recording. "Give me the recording," my dad said. The video ended with Trinidad stopping the camera. They had both been on the take. Traitors. But what had happened afterward? Who had killed Trinidad Sr.? Had my brothers known about this? Had Daniel?

One of the reasons Dad had kept me out of much of his crew was my inability to lie. My palms would get sweaty, my heart would pound in my chest, and my voice would crack whenever I had to lie. It was as if a neon sign blasted on my forehead flashing Liar, Liar, and whenever something bothered me, I couldn't keep my mouth shut about it. Even if I should've. Even if my life depended on it.

The moment I realized Kieran had something to do with my family's death I wanted to confront him about it. I wanted to believe that he had a good explanation. That the video was a lie, doctored, fake. I wanted to believe that my heart didn't just explode in my chest.

But I was done with his bullshit.

I had to get out of there.

And I had to do it fast. I wasn't sure where Kieran went off to, but he'd be coming back. Some part of me hoped he'd be coming back to explain the lies, and why he couldn't trust me, or maybe just apologize and hug me.

I was such an idiot.

I splashed water on my face, shoved my feet into some old boots I found near the door, and shrugged into an old coat. I couldn't go anywhere on foot. I snatched the car keys off the countertop and sprinted to the adjacent garage hoping there would be a reliable ride I could boost instead of Wren's piece of shit car. But nope. The Mustang was all I had at my disposal. Didn't these pricks know that snow and sports cars were a dangerous mix?

Despite the ice and snow, I had to try.

I climbed inside.

When I was twelve, I had seen Marco Ruiz get shot in the neck. He had been fourteen at the time and my friend. We had been buying weed off Geronimo Plazas in the corner of the main street when a car slowed and started shooting at us. Afterward, I couldn't remember what I'd done during those seconds of gunfire. I had blanked out and woke up when Geronimo had stepped on my hand to run out of there. I had felt wet and sticky on my back. It hadn't been until I got up that I realized I had fallen on Marco's blood. I'd been covered in it when the cops arrived, unable to talk about anything. When Dad picked me up, he had slapped me and told me to man up. After that, he let Miguel take me with him to target practice at an open field.

"You have to control what you do when the adrenaline hits you," Miguel had said. Then he pointed the gun at me and fired. The bullet grazed my ear, I felt the ripple of air at how close it'd come to killing me. I peed my pants and lost some of my hearing that day. He laughed and told me to run. And another bullet sailed. I didn't run the first day, or the second day we went out. The third day, I didn't piss on myself. And the fourth day, I ran.

"Fear is something you conquer," Miguel finally said. "Fear is something you meet head on."

On the eighth day. I hadn't run. I tackled him to the ground and got two strikes to his face before he overpowered me.

The surge of fear bursting through me now warred inside of me. I didn't want to believe what I knew to be true. I didn't want to believe that the guy I'd fallen for was a brutal killer.

Please work. Please. I pushed the ignition and it turned on. "Good girl. Just please, save me."

My clean escape died a silent death when a black SUV stopped in front of me, about twenty yards out, blocking my path. I didn't need to see the passenger inside to know that it was Kieran. I sensed him glaring at me. I stared at the windshield for a second, unable to move. Fear forced my chest to tighten. The crazy son of a bitch had the upper hand, and he knew it.

Kieran revved the SUV in warning.

I wasn't going to give in without a fight. I slammed the gear into first and jolted forward. The wheels spun, but then caught against the snow. I swerved to flank him on his side, but he acted quick and turned the SUV, clipping my fender. The impact sent me spinning into the trees. The airbag exploded in my face. A tree a new hood ornament. Adrenaline fueled, I pushed the door open, dropped on the cold snow, and ran into the woods, under the canopy of trees, into the shadows because freezing to death out in the open woods was better than getting stabbed in the heart.