1. Cash

1

CASH

I held my gun in my hand as we prepared to land. Knives were strapped to my legs. Magazines were clipped to my belt. My rifle was slung across my back. This would be a bloody battle. I was prepared for the worst, and with Fox by my side, I nodded to him, knowing he held the same bloodlust as I did.

Not because he particularly liked Rafe, but because I was hurting, and Fox felt every ounce of my pain. He embraced it and wielded it as a weapon.

Looking out the windows of the chopper, I watched as every helicopter surrounding the island converged, ready to take out the last remaining men on Zavala's island. There was a new leader, but he wouldn't make it past dawn. Every man and woman from OPS and Reed Security was here with me today to rip these fuckers from the earth and make them pay for their actions.

"Thirty seconds!" Scottie announced.

The last thought I had before we landed was that I found it curious that Scottie hadn't vomited once this trip. Whether it was the calm we all felt as we made our way across the ocean or the fierce need for retribution, he flew like he had never had an issue before.

Though, I wouldn't mind a little tactical vomit for these fuckers .

The helicopter rocked slightly as we touched down. The whirring of the blades was all I could hear over my steady breathing. I watched as men poured from the compound, rushing toward us with their weapons drawn, but the usual rush of adrenaline didn't hit. I was calm, one hundred percent in my element as my boots thudded on the ground with an ominous boom.

Everything moved in slow motion as I looked around the island, counting the assholes in my head. Every one of them would pay for the part they played not only in Rafe's death, but in Isabelle's capture and continued torment.

With a final look around, time sped up and I fired the first shot. I heard my men surrounding me, firing right alongside me as I rushed into the fray of battle. Anger and torment surged through me with every bullet I fired.

But it wasn't enough just to kill them. I wanted them to suffer as he had.

I holstered my weapon, glancing at Fox as he stood beside me, and drew my knives. A satisfied smirk slid over his face as he did the same. Then, he surprised me, drawing a second set and handing it over to me. I spread the knives, running my fingers over the gold-plated metal, swirling with a filigree pattern around Rafe's name that was engraved on the side of the blade. I slid the first blade wide, seeing Isabelle's name on the second. The pattern repeated with each blade.

My eyes locked with Fox's and I nodded in gratitude. I ran flat out at the men firing at us. I didn't think about the bullets flying at me or the danger of the situation. There was only revenge. Blood coated my face and hands with each swing of my blade.

I vaguely heard Fox call my name. As I spun, I saw two men running at me. I flipped the blades in my hand and released them both, splitting the blades like Fox had taught me. I didn't have the same precision as Fox, but was still able to kill both. One knife landed in the man's throat, while the second blade hit the man in the chest. I walked over to him, staring down at the man as he struggled to breathe. He stared up at me, his eyes wide as his lips faintly moved. I imagined he was pleading for his life—either that or a quick death.

Rafe received neither of those .

I crouched on one knee and tore the knife from his chest, running the blade along the length of his neck, but not actually cutting him. Bending down, I whispered in his ear, "Tell me where he is and I'll make your death quick."

Gasping for air, he said only two words.

The basement.

He was taking refuge in the very place he kept the men and women he tormented. I slid the knife across his neck, killing him instantly. I wiped the blade on his clothes and stood, walking through the carnage to the house. I knew Fox was behind me the whole way. As for my father, he was somewhere around here, taking his own revenge on the men who killed his son.

I stormed into the house, my gun drawn as I rounded the corner. Fox moved down the hall ahead of me, clearing it as I followed. I tapped him on the shoulder, telling him we were good to move. We met very little resistance as we cleared the house. When we finally reached the basement stairs, I grabbed Fox's arm.

"I've got this."

"Boss—"

With a shake of my head, he backed down. I didn't care if he followed me down there, but this asshole was mine. Standing to the side, I swung the door open and waited for the inevitable gunfire that never came. I carefully moved down the stairs. I was eager to get this asshole, but I wasn't stupid. As soon as I hit the bottom step, bullets ate up the wood at my feet. I turned and sighted the man in the corner, firing a single shot into his leg.

His pained yowl echoed off the walls of the basement. He started firing like a madman, desperate to fight to the death and stay alive. But in his panic, his shots weren't controlled. I ran at him, knowing it could end my life, but it was a chance I was willing to take. I had to take him alive. There was no way I'd end his life in this sad basement when he deserved so much worse.

My body slammed into his and then we hit the wall. My earlier thoughts fled as I smashed my fist into his face. He smirked at me through his fear, and that's when I realized who this fucker was. I saw him through my scope on the day my brother died. This asshole was laughing, spilling alcohol on the flames as my brother was tortured. Images of my twin burning at the stake flooded my mind, making me lose all control and reason. I wanted this man dead. I wanted him to suffer.

"Boss," Fox said behind me.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't. The rage consumed me, making it impossible to control myself. His face was bloodied and a few teeth were missing, but still, I didn't stop. Arms grabbed at me, dragging me away from the nearly lifeless body. I fought to break free, my whole body shaking as I stared at the man by my feet.

Slowly, reason and objectivity resurfaced and I remembered what I truly wanted. I shook off Fox, taking a step back. He walked around me and hauled the fucker over his shoulder, nodding to me as he headed for the stairs. I had never seen Fox quite so silent as I did today. Part of me wished he would make some joke or use the word clearly. The other part of me appreciated that he knew there wasn't much I could handle other than making these fuckers pay.

As we marched out of the house, the gunfire had died down. Bodies littered the property, but none of them were ours. Fox tossed the fucker down on the ground and I grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him over to the stake where they had murdered Rafe.

"Please!" the man shouted, his hands grasping at my own, trying desperately to get away from me.

As I approached the stake, a lump formed in my throat. My steps slowed and I wasn't sure I could keep going. My father stepped out from the crowd, his gaze settling on the man I was dragging behind me. I walked through the ash around the stake, tossing the man on the ground. Rafe's body was no longer here, but I would find him and take him home.

"Is that the fucker?" my dad asked.

"One of them. String him up," I said, not bothering to give anyone a direct order. I knew they were all just as willing to see this man pay.

Jack and Johnny stepped forward, grabbing the man at my feet, while IRIS got to work with Jason on rebuilding the fire around the stake. The fucker cried as he was tied up, begging for someone to save his life. I bit back the tears threatening to fall, knowing Rafe didn't beg or cry. He was strong to the end.

IRIS walked over to me, handing me the matches. "It's all yours. I only used accelerant on the outer logs. It'll take a while for him to burn."

"Good." I struck the match against the box and watched the flame for a second. My eyes met the man tied to the stake. He looked at me, his eyes pleading with me as snot dripped down his face. His whole fucking body shook in fear for what was coming. It would be painful.

I dropped the match and watched as the flames whooshed to life. They crawled up the logs at his feet, licking at his shoes. He tried to move, but was tied at the ankles. I listened for what felt like hours as the fire spread up his body, slowly burning him alive. His screams were agonizing. I thought maybe I would feel better as I watched him die. Instead, all I felt was an overwhelming guilt and sadness that I hadn't gotten to my brother in time and that he had suffered in such a horrible way.

As the flames consumed him and his cries died down, I finally turned away, unable to stomach it anymore. My father clasped his hand on my shoulder in commiseration.

"Let's find him and go home."

We walked the grounds, searching for the remains of my brother. It took two hours before we finally found him tossed in a shallow grave. I stood beside it, staring down at the burned body that was only partially buried, and prayed it wasn't actually him. Taking a knee, I carefully removed the dirt from his face.

A choked sob left my lips as I saw the bullet hole in his head—the very one I put there. My hand hovered over his chest before settling over his heart.

"It shouldn't have been like this," I whispered. "You were always an asshole, but you were my brother. My twin. We were supposed to keep fighting until we were too old to draw our weapons."

A tear slipped down my cheek, falling onto my brother's body. My eyes flicked to the wedding ring on his left hand. Though it was covered in soot, the dull gold was still visible. As carefully as I could, I picked up his hand and removed the wedding ring, knowing Libby would want it. His finger crumbled as what remained of the tissue slipped away. It took everything in me not to break down in tears.

I removed the chain from around my neck and slid the ring on, letting it fall near my dog tags. Closing my eyes, I prayed that Rafe was at peace, that he was looking down on us and cursing us for crying over his body when he had already moved on. A burst of laughter left my lips as I pictured him rolling his eyes at me for being so fucking dramatic.

"Boss, you okay?" Fox asked.

Nodding, I stood and sniffled back the tears. "Let's get him wrapped up for transport."

"On it, boss," Fox said solemnly, snapping his fingers at one of the guys. Dash walked over with a body bag, laying it on the ground beside Rafe's body.

"Fox."

"Yeah, boss?"

"I think we should have some shawarma when we get home."

"Uh…don't you think that's a little…insensitive?"

I smirked at him. "Rafe would fucking love it."

I thought the hardest part about retrieving my brother's body would be finding him in that shallow grave. I was wrong. The moment I stepped off the plane and saw Libby waiting for us, I knew nothing would be as hard as seeing the tears spilling down her face. Telling her had been hard. This was fucking brutal.

The back of the cargo plane opened and my men wheeled the casket out. Red and Lock had laid a flag over the top of it, making it even fucking harder than when we loaded him on the plane. His service to this country went above and beyond what any of us had realized. Not only had he toppled The Syndicate, he'd saved our sister's life, giving his own to ensure she would never live under the thumb of that fucker Zavala ever again.

"Libby," I croaked out as she walked up to me.

Her lips trembled as her gaze drifted beyond me to where her husband laid."Is that him?"

I nodded. Just because there was a coffin didn't mean he was inside. I wanted to reassure her that we brought him home to her. Removing the chain from around my neck, I slid his wedding ring from it and placed it in her hand. She stared down at it, tears spilling down her cheeks and landing on the dull metal.

My chest constricted as I watched her fall apart before me. Pulling her into my arms, I felt her tears soak my shirt. Her whole body shook, and I struggled not to lose it along with her.

"He left me," she sobbed. Her fists balled up, striking me hard. "He fucking left me!"

"Libby—"

"No!" she shouted, pushing back from my arms. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to excuse what he did!"

"He didn't tell any of us," I tried to reason with her.

Her nostrils flared in anger. The pink tinge of her cheeks grew with every second that passed. "I'm his wife. I'm the one person in this world he's supposed to tell everything to. I've been there with him through everything—" she choked out. "I did anything he asked without question and?—"

She shook her head, unable to go on as she stared down at all that was left of her husband. Her fist clenched as she sucked back the tears and steeled her spine. Brushing away the wetness from her cheeks, I knew she was shutting down.

"We should bury him. The plot is ready and—I've already found a minister who can be there."

"We should plan a service."

"For who?" she snapped. "The only people who knew or cared about him are already here. Why wait?"

"To give you time to grieve."

"I've done my grieving. The moment he called me, I knew it was over." She shook her head in disgust. "Rafe always was a selfish prick."

She turned and walked away from all of us. I wished there was something I could do or say to help her. She was hurting so badly, but until she came to terms with what Rafe did and why, she would never really get over his betrayal.

Because that's what it was to her. He had broken every vow he made to her to save his sister. And as valiant as that was, he broke her in the process. She wasn't even part of the decision-making, which I knew would have eased the pain of knowing what would happen. Now, everything was in a tailspin.

I turned back to my men, who had wheeled the casket over to me. "Libby wants the service to be held now."

"Now?" Red asked. "But we don't have anything lined up."

"She's already taken care of it. She wants this over as soon as possible."

"What about you, boss?" Lock asked. "He's your family."

"He's her husband, and I can't blame her for the way she's feeling. Maybe it would be better for everyone to lay him to rest so we can all find some peace."

Neither of them looked like they agreed, but they didn't argue with me. Eva walked over to me, her eyes welling with tears as she snuggled into my arms.

"How are you?"

How was I? I still didn't know the answer to that question. I hadn't yet told Libby about my part in Rafe's death. Guilt overwhelmed me as I struggled to come to grips with what I had done. And when I returned home after that fateful day, I hadn't even been able to discuss it with Eva. She already knew he was dead just by looking at me. But as for the part I played…shame overwhelmed me. I didn't want her to see me as the man who couldn't save his brother. What did that say about me? What if something happened to her? Would she lose all faith that I could keep her safe?

"I'll be fine."

"Will you?" she asked.

Anger washed over me, though it was completely uncalled for. I pushed away from her, feeling my own inadequacy taking hold. "I don't need you to baby me. He's dead. There's nothing more I can do for him."

She flinched back at my harsh response. "Cash, I just want to help."

"I don't need help. He brought this on himself. He pushed and pushed, refusing to let anyone help him. Why would I feel any responsibility for his actions?" I snapped.

"I didn't say you should."

I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she knew something else was going on. Instead of reassuring her that I was fine, I made things worse. I exposed my weakness and she wouldn't give up now. Maybe she'd leave me alone for a time, but soon, she would come after me, and she wouldn't stop until my soul was laid bare to her.

I watched as she walked away, refusing to show how much I had hurt her. I scrubbed a hand over my face. Closing my eyes only made it worse. I couldn't sleep. Every fucking time I tried, that shot ricocheted through my head. The way his head snapped back—the lifeless body that hung on the stake as men laughed and jeered.

I failed him in every way. He was gone because I wasn't strong enough. Rafe wouldn't have failed. Even in death, he always won. He'd succeeded in completing his mission. Maybe that was the real difference between Rafe and me. He had our father's perseverance. He was built to see things through to the end. I was the rule follower. I played by the rules of the law. Yet, when it mattered most—when my brother's life was on the line, I hadn't found a way to get to him and save his life.

He was dead because of me.

"Boss."

I turned, nearly growling at Red until I realized why he was here.

"The casket is loaded and we're ready to go."

Clearing my throat, I nodded to him. "Thank you."

But he didn't move. He stood there, staring at me in the way only Red could. I felt his concern and observant gaze on me. If I had to guess, he already knew half the thoughts in my head, and it wouldn't be long before he cornered me and gave me a piece of his mind.

"I'll ride alone. "

"What about Eva?" he asked, only mildly surprised.

I looked into the distance as she got in the car with Libby. "She's got a ride."