44. Cash

44

CASH

My boots hit the ground and I ran flat out into the fray of battle. Gunfire exploded around me. In the distance, I saw more men running from the house toward us. There were too many of them. We'd never break through their defenses.

"Scottie!" I yelled through comms. "I'm going after Rafe!"

"I've got cover fire," he responded.

I glanced back at the chopper and saw him put it in hover mode as he moved to the back and readied the machine gun. My father was running toward me, firing his own weapon until he crouched down beside me.

"What's the plan?"

I shook my head and pointed at the one weak spot I found. "If we can slip past the line there, we might be able to get inside the building."

"Exit strategy?"

"Try not to get shot," I retorted.

"Sounds like as good a plan as any."

"Cash, he gave the order to have Rafe killed."

"How?"

"He said to burn him and make it public. He wants you to see."

I shook Knight's words from my head and took off across the lawn. I would not allow my brother to be killed. I had multiple guns and magazines on me. Knives were strapped to my thigh and Sally 3 was slung over my shoulder. I was as armed as I could be. I had to believe I could get to him first.

"Cash!" my old man shouted.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the blood drain from his face as he pointed off in the distance. Across the property, Rafe was being dragged out on the front lawn to a fucking stake. I quickly pulled out my scope and scanned the area to find the easiest route to him. The problem was, there was a fucking wall separating where we stood from the main house. I scanned the area, hoping to find a door or another path to him, but there was nothing. It was a fucking fortress.

"I don't see a way in," I told my father, my anxiety spiking as I tried to figure out how to get to my brother. As if he knew I was here, I saw him look at me for just a second before he came out swinging, buying us time to get to him. I took off, running for the wall at break-neck speed. I could hear my father's footsteps behind me as we rushed forward, praying we weren't too late.

Bullets flew past me, but I knew it was Scottie laying down cover fire as we ran for the inner sanctum. I was nearly at the wall, still with no idea how to climb it, when ropes shot to the top of the wall and grappling hooks locked them in place. I didn't stop to see who aided me as I grabbed onto the rope and started scaling the wall. I heard my father behind me, rushing to get to the top. My muscles burned as I pushed harder than I ever had before. My hands blistered from the rope and sweat coated my eyes, making it impossible to see, but I was just feet from the top.

I hooked my leg over the wall and hauled myself to the top. I pulled my scope and narrowed in on Rafe. "No," I whispered. He was tied to a fucking stake and was doused in liquid, which I could only assume was gasoline. A match was lit, ready to ignite the whole fucking pyre of wood. I didn't think as I grabbed my rifle and lined up the shot. I fired off a single round, hoping to hit the man holding the match, but I was too late. I watched in horror as the match slowly fell to the ground and the whole pyre lit up with massive flames.

"No!" my father shouted, finishing the climb to the top.

I started firing round after round, taking out anyone within twenty feet of the pyre, but that wouldn't stop the inevitable. There was no way to reach Rafe in time. We were close to a half mile away from where he was tied up, and in between laid a million obstacles that would slow us down.

"Rafe!" my father shouted.

I kept firing, focusing solely on what I could do to stop them, but deep down, I knew it wasn't enough. I blocked out the excruciating screams of my brother as the flames licked his body. I couldn't look. It would be real, and I would know then that I had failed.

"Cash," my father ordered.

But I kept firing.

"Cash!"

I finally stopped and looked at him. Sadness coated his face as he shook his head.

"Please," he said quietly, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Tears pricked my eyes as I turned my gaze to my brother. The flames were engulfing him, burning him alive. His nerve endings would be sizzling, setting his pain receptors off at an alarming rate. It had to be agonizing.

For what I knew would be the last time in my life, I looked through my scope at my twin as I felt his steady gaze on me. He was staring right at me, his eyes just as bright as ever, but his face was etched in pain. He dipped his chin as if giving me permission to do the unthinkable.

My finger slid to the trigger and I took a deep breath, lining up the shot like I had so many times before. My chin trembled as a single tear slipped down my cheek. I would never forgive myself for what I was about to do, or the fact that I hadn't reached him in time. I widened my gaze, refusing to look away.

And then I pulled the trigger.

I watched as his head snapped back and his eyes went blank. His whole body sagged in the fire, continuing to burn despite the fact that he was dead. I felt the heavy hand of my father fall on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, but there was no way to erase what I had just done.

I sat there, staring through my scope as I waited for the end to come. The men around him laughed and jeered as his body burned to a crisp. They threw rocks at him and poured liquor on the flames. And I was forced to watch from a distance, unable to do anything to protect what was left of his body.

"Son," my father whispered.

I shook my head, unable to look away.

"We have to go."

"Not yet," I said around the lump in my throat.

"They're coming for us."

"Let them," I growled as sadness fueled the anger boiling inside me.

"Son…" His hand was on my shoulder again, gripping me tightly. "It's not just about us. Your men would stand beside you through anything. Would you condemn them to death when there's nothing more we can do?"

His words were like an arrow piercing my chest. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to listen as he spoke nothing but the truth. I couldn't leave my twin here. We came into this world together. It wasn't right that he would die in such a brutal way.

"He's gone," my father whispered. "He's not in pain anymore."

"He should be coming home with us," I choked out as tears slipped from my eyes.

"He will. We'll get him back, but not like this."

Resigned, I stood, sniffing back the anguish as I slung my rifle over my shoulder. Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks, but then again, they did on my father's face also. Rafe was my father's pride and joy. He turned out exactly like him, and gave his life in the same way my father would have if he were able.

"Zavala's dead. We'll come back and retrieve your brother's body and lay him to rest."

"And Libby? What will we do for her?" I asked.

"The only thing she would want. Revenge."