I've been tracking Noah via his phone since Ben and I left the apartment building. After Noah's last bout of melodramatic bullshit, I made sure to put extra measures in place to keep an eye on him. The stupid kid is going to get himself killed.

Right before I called them all in to talk, he had been texting Alie. Skimming over their increasingly smutty messages, I saw that she had mentioned a guy named Rory was at the club earlier tonight. My mind went right to the punk kid from the basement of Moriarty's. The one I made choke on his own teeth. Desmond had him working with Nick to facilitate business deals with the Russians.

She was becoming increasingly worried about Rory and his actions with the girls at the club. One of her last messages to Noah said that she's been ordered to serve him and his friends in a private room. Noah's outburst, though fucking annoying, was merited. If I was in his position, I would have ran out too to save Scar-

No. Not the time, Declan. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shrugged off my mounting anxiety.

I've been trying to get into the security cameras at The Afterlife in hopes I could keep and eye on him while he's in there but they have their shit locked down tight. There was nothing we could do except wait for him to come out.

Ben was driving us around the city keeping distance so it didn't look suspicious yet close enough should he need us. We had to stay on the move and in the shadows. I change the plates out on my truck every time we go out but how many blacked-out 4Runners could there be in one city. This may be the Bratva's turf but we were wanted by both sides.

Ben's kept quiet this whole time but I could tell he was biting his tongue. Like he was waiting for the opportunity to blow up at me. Well, he's going to be waiting a long goddamn time because I'm not in the mood.

No, my mind was torn between Noah and his stupid, childish antics and Scarlett's cries saying that I hurt her. Those words were blaring in my head like a firehouse siren. Looking down at my fists, I clenched them until they hurt. I hurt her.

Not now! Now is not the time for this, keep your head in the game.

My phone vibrated in rapid succession in the cup holder, silencing her cries in my head.

"Pull over." I ordered, reading the text. Ben side eyed me then flicked on his signal and parked along the street. Immediately my phone started to ring.

"Declan!" Noah's panicked voice came over the speakers of the truck. "Boss, we've got a problem."

"Where are you?" I snapped.

"In some alley, corner of 5th and Washington."

Ben was already pulling away from the curb and into traffic. A passing truck laid on its horn as it clipped the drivers side mirror making the glass explode and the plastic break off and spiral across the street. Ben looked over at me with a sheepish grin but kept on speeding towards Noah. I opened the glove box where I knew I had a few black ski masks and tossed one to Ben.

Noah was a few blocks away from The Afterlife. His bike was laid out on the side of the street. Its mirrors were broken off and laying on the ground amongst shards of broken glass. The front tire had a visible hole blown in it. Noah's helmet that was on the ground was badly scraped up on one side. He'd been chased.

Ben and I saw Noah's tall, rigid form pacing anxiously at the back end of the Alley. He stopped the moment he saw us coming, his hand instinctively going for his gun. "Cerberus!" He called, his voice shaking.

"Heal." I responded in a cool tone, my voice distorted from the mechanism that was inside the mask. In one smooth, well practiced motion I took the gun I had tucked into the front of my jeans and shot the camera that was above the back door to the restaurant. The suppressor made the explosion sound like a loud pop as it echoes off of the brick walls of the alley.

"Took you long enough." Noah let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He had blood trailing down the side of his face coming from somewhere under his hair. The blood trail met up with the deep cut on his lip that was already swollen. His shirt and pants were torn up and bloodied from the road burn showing between the ripped fabric. "I don't get a mask?"

"They already know." I retorted, using my eyes to direct his attention back to the camera I had just shot. "Stop. Talking."

"No, I-" When he saw my eyes narrow at him he stopped and thought about what he was about to say. "I didn't even go in the club. I stayed close incase she needed help. They saw me when they came out of the back of the club and tailed me. Shot out the tires on my bike, I crashed and we ended up here in."

While he kept talking, going into detail about their altercation, my eyes trailed down to the dead body laying on the concrete in a pool of black. Ben was questioning him rapid-fire; who was this, did anyone see, is he okay. Not that it mattered. The moment I recognized the lifeless face staring back up at me I knew we were properly fucked.

This was his brothers' dealer. When Noah told me about his brother, Johnny, and how he needed the cash to pay off his debt, I wanted to know just who the hell my money was going to. Was he some punk dealer working for the Russians or was this going to be a problem. Didn't take me long to figure out who he was indebted to. Who's dead body is now on the ground at our feet. This was Roman Kuznetsov, son of the underboss for the Russians.

"You said 'they'." I prodded, waiting for him to clarify.

Noah pulled his lips together in a tight, awkward smile and pointed behind the dumpster. There, bleeding out from the hole shot in the side of his neck was Rory fucking Dempsey. The kid from the meeting at Moriarty's Bar. The one who was assaulting the waitress. His dad, Cian, used to be Desmond's right hand until he got himself murdered. Rory thought he was untouchable and has been allowed to get away with too much shit over the last year.

His brown eyes looked up at me and widened. He struggled to speak. The moment he opened his mouth he coughed making blood splatter all over my jeans. I turned my lip up in disgust, more from the images my mind was making up of what he was doing in the club earlier than having his blood on my clothes.

I nodded. My mind already starting to come up with a way to spin this so that it looked like they, Roman and Rory, killed each other.

"Get 'em out of here." I said, cutting off Ben and Noah who were arguing. Rory couched again, this time managing to gurgle out some bullshit about Desmond finding out. With all of the blood and spit dripping from his mouth it was hard to make out exactly what he said.

Pulling another mask from my coat pocket I flung it at Noah making him flinch and try to grab it before it hit the ground. I walked to Roman's body and patted him down, searching for his phone. When I found it, I immediately threw it against the brick wall to break it. Can't have his body being tracked.

"You, grab his feet." Being careful not to say their names I pointed to Ben. "You, under his arms. Let's go."

"What about him?" Ben asked.

I looked back at Rory. He had fallen on his side and was trying to pull something from his pants pocket. Before he got whatever it was out of his pocket, I pulled a pocket knife from my hoodie, flicked the blade out and drug the blade across his throat.

Dipping my hand in his pocket, I felt what he was going for. His phone. I pulled it out and threw it to the ground, using the heal of my boot to crush it.

The boys quickly got to work, hauling the body down the alley and into the back of the truck. I walked out on the street and typed out the names of the streets and surrounding businesses on my phone so that I could get to work on finding out what type of security they had. It's gonna be a long fucking night of tampering with any videos they may have recorded to make sure Noah was out of the picture.

Back at the building, I helped the two of them carry the bodies up the stairs and into one of the unoccupied units on our floor. Not that I was expecting someone to steal the dead bodies but this was leverage that I couldn't afford to lose. I wanted it kept close.

Pocketing the key to the unit, I pushed the two of them into their space and kicked the door shut behind me. Paul jogged the few steps down the hall into the living room.

"Sit." I growled, pointing to the questionable sofa in the living room. I walked into the kitchen and opened one of the coolers and took out an icepack then grabbed a cloth towel, wrapping it around the pack. Coming back out to them, I hurled the icepack at Noah which he struggled to catch. "Tonight was supposed to be a quiet night but thanks to your pal, Noah, now we've got work to do."

Paul raised an eyebrow and looked to Noah. "The fuck did you do now, Lowlife?"

Noah kept his eyes fixed on his lap, not wanting to answer for his impulsive behavior. He put the icepack up to his swollen lip and sunk back into the couch.

"Mr. Lowlife here decided to kill the underboss of the Russian mafias son." I answered for him. Paul grimaced and let out an uncomfortable groan.

"I told you, he fucking chased me." Noah replied. "What was I supposed to do, let them kill me?"

"Them?" Paul questioned, looking between Noah and I.

"He got Rory Dempsey, too." Ben answered, sounding smug.

A slow, malicious smile grew on Paul's face. "That stupid cunt. He deserved worse."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. My head was pounding and I could feel a migraine coming on. I let out an agitated breath and continued, calmly.

"We can use this to our advantage. We're going to frame Rory for the murder of Roman." The three of them picked their heads up.

"Obviously this is a change from what we talked about earlier. When the Bratva find out it was Rory it's going to destroy their trust. They're going to retaliate. Dez will have no choice but to send out higher ranking members to deal with this. This makes Dez less protected. We gotta move fast now. We're gonna hit Desmond's cash cows tomorrow." I explained.

"Paul, Noah and I are going to hit the bowling alley first." They knew exactly which one I was referring to. "Ben, you're going to stay back with her." I said, using my thumb to point down the hall behind me.

I had the three of them start to formulate an idea of where to plant the bodies while I got to work on editing the security footage. After an hour staring at the computer screen my migraine was starting to become crippling, despite taking meds.

Once the boys came up with a plan that would work, they set off back to the city to get to work. I stayed at my computer for as long as necessary until I heard her calling from the bedroom.

"Fuck," I mumbled. Thinking I could ignore her I pressed on with my task. I'm pretty sure I got everything spliced, all I have to do is watch it over again to make sure nothing is out of place. Before I could hit the play button I heard her calling out again.

"Paaauuuul!" She dragged out from behind the locked door. "Paul, come on I have to go to the bathroom!"

Unlocking the door, I kept my hand on the door knob. What the hell am I doing? I shouldn't be acknowledging her. Yet here I am, like a moth to the flame.

The moment I open the door her eyes met mine. She took a step back, clearly not expecting me to be the one to open the door. There was a long silence between us before she cleared her throat.

"I have to use the bathroom." She said, trying to keep her voice even but I could hear the slight tremor.

Not saying a word, I moved to the side and held my arm out signaling her to go. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she moved passed me in the tight door frame. She stopped for just a moment when she was right in front of me, her eyes quickly looked up at me but when she saw I was watching her she shook her head and continued down the hall to the bathroom.

I leaned my shoulder against the wall, letting my still pounding head rest against the drywall. I'm fucking tired. Tired of all of this shit. We've been on the run for months, always looking over our shoulder. I've barely been sleeping, my mind constantly going over every step we took to make sure no one could track us. Contriving every single step we had to take next, making sure I had back up plans should something go wrong and then plans should those plans fail. All while making sure all of us are safe at all times.

It's exhausting. I'm exhausted. I need this to be over. I need to be able to get out of this flight or fight mindset that's been eating away at me. But I know, deep down, after everything we are about to do, there will be no going back. At least not for me. So long as the boys and Scarlett remain anonymous, they will be able to live a normal life after all of this is said and done. I am too closely tied to Desmond, and now the Russians, that I know once it's over there will always be someone after me. Maybe not from our syndicate but the Russian's family is vast. Once they learn about what happened, they'll retaliate and it will be my head they want.

After everything the boys have done for me, the best way I can pay them back is by keeping them safe. Despite whatever the hell happened between Scarlett and I, I do love her. And if giving myself up to keep them all safe is what will do that, so be it. I just hope it doesn't get to that point.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I'm pulled from my thoughts. Scarlett comes from the room, flicking off the light before pulling the door half shut. She stands there for a moment, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Her bangs have grown out and they're finally able to stay tucked back and out of her face. Crossing her arms over her chest, I see her fingers rub against her ribs, over where the band of her bra would be, flinching slightly like she was in pain. Did I do that?

"I heard you guys yelling earlier. Is everything okay?" She asked, staying in her spot to keep distance between us.

"In." I answer, pointing to her room. I can see her face deflate at my cold response.

"Am I a prisoner now?" She asks, trying to match my cold tone.

"I don't have time for this." Pushing off of the wall makes my head spin and I scrunch my eyes closed. Fuck, I need caffeine and more pain meds. I put my open hand against the wall to steady myself.

"Declan," I hear her steps rushing towards me "are you alright?"

She places her hand on my shoulder and for a brief moment I feel her warmth. As soon as I feel it though, she's taking her hand back. "Sorry." She mumbles.

"This is almost over." I answer before biting my tongue. Her brows furrow for a moment. I imagine she's trying to discern if I mean the fight between me and Desmond or if I meant us. Not saying anything, she just nods her head and wraps her arms around herself again.

Willingly, she walks back into the room. For a while she stands with her back to me and I'm stuck trying to find words, anything to keep me from having to walk away but I keep coming up with nothing. The constricting feeling in my head and the tunnel vision are starting to get worse and I have to walk away to try and stop the pain. Closing the door, I shove the key into the lock and turn it.

Twisting the cap off of the plastic nipper bottle, I swallow the Jameson. Liquid fire burns a trail down into my chest and sparks the fire inside me that I need. Noah and Paul are behind me, readying themselves for what's about to happen. I can hear them taking in deep breaths to get their heads in the game.

Pulling my hood over my head a little further, I let out my own deep breath. Fixing my grip I have on my sledge hammer I slide the key into the side door of the bowling alley and slip inside. The moment we're in I quickly pocket the key and move through the employee break room making my way behind the front desk.

I swing the sledge hammer back around me, gripping it with both hands before I swing it down on to the cash register. It smashed into pieces the moment the metal head of the hammer comes in contact with it. Noah and Paul move past me and start to swing their own weapons into the glass case in front of us. Glass explodes all over as they make their way down and around the counter, destroying everything inside it. I follow behind them, spilling lighter fluid as we go.

Paul kicks over the rolling ball holders letting all of the heavy bowling balls bounce onto the floor and start rolling across the building. Bringing the sledge hammer back up behind my head I start an assault on all of the claw games. Noah starts in on the coin machines. Glass falls like confetti all over the stuffed animals inside the machine. The same ones that were used to smuggle drugs into the country from over seas. With a few more strikes the insides of the claw machines erupt making nuts, bolts and springs cascade around me.

The music from the machines start to become muddled and warped. The lights eventually go out and the music is now nothing more than a two second loop of a few notes.

Moving closer to the back of the building, we come to the pool tables. My hands gripped the metal handle of the hammer and I bring it around at my side and then swung it into the coin slot. Coins jostled inside the pool table from the force of the blow. The metal slot broke off and skidded across the floor.

I'm already breathing hard through my mouth behind my mask, making my face feel clammy. In one swift motion I put my hand on the side of the billiards table and swing my legs up over the side and get on my feet. I feel my hood fall from head but I continue my assault on the pool table. The green fabric of the table rips and the wood underneath splinters. I hop over to the next one and do the same until it's in even worse shape than the first.

Paul climbs onto one of the stools at the bar on the other side of the room then steps on to the bar itself. On the wall behind the bar are shelves of liquor bottles and glassware. Paul grips is metal bat before he starts swinging away. More glass explodes, clinking as it falls onto the ground and skids across the floor. Alcohol spilling everywhere. He spares one bottle of Crown Royal, grabbing it from the wooden shelf and opening it. He takes a long tug from the bottle then hops down from the bar and walks towards Noah and I, spilling the brown liquid as he does.

The last thing to destroy are the slot machines along the back wall. The real money makers. Before I bring the hammer up again my eyes catch the black door at the very end of the row of machines, the place I am ultimately headed. I leave Noah and Paul to continue on destroying the place.

I'm panting. My chest is heaving up and down from the physical exertion. My arms are on fire but I manage to swing the hammer back again with minimal effort and batter down the door. When the door is barely hanging on, I step inside through the remaining pieces of wood and let the hammer fall to the ground at my feet. My head snaps to the old man sitting behind the desk at the far end of the room.

His casual demeanor has me stunned for a moment. He must have heard all of that just now and yet he's sitting here with a smug look on his face. As if this was any normal day of the week for him.

"Ya think this is the first time a bunch of boyos come in here and tried to burn this place?" He asks. I can smell the acrid smell of the lighter fluid from behind the fabric of my mask.

I pull my gun from my holster and aim it at him. "The money." I demand.

He lets out a deep laugh from his belly. "You have any idea who yer stealing from?"

I fist the fabric of the mask at the top of my head and tug it off. For a moment it looks like he's seen a ghost, his eyes widening and his face paling. But as quick as his expression falls he collects himself. "You look just like yer Da."

"The money." I repeat, walking closer to the desk he was still seated behind. I shrugged off the backpack I had strapped to my shoulders.

"Stealing from Desmond is gonna make ya end up like yer Da." He continues unfazed. "How'd ya think yer Ma would fair in life when both her boys are dead?"

For a split second I started to drop my gun from the side of his head. His comment about my mother caught me off guard. To try and play it off, I pressing it even harder to his skin but I couldn't stop myself from asking. "What the hell are you talking about?"

His smile widened making his wrinkles on his cheeks deepen yet his smile never reached his eyes. They stayed cold, dark. I'd taken the bait. Leaning over to the side, he pulled open a drawer behind his desk.

"Move again and I shoot." I seethed behind my clenched teeth.

"Oh," he tsked "ya'd really stop an old man from having a drink?"

My eyes fell to the familiar green bottle that was in the drawer next to two rocks glasses. Still keeping the barrel pressed to his head I bent down and grabbed the bottle, slamming it down on the wood desk followed by the glass. He sat there with a smirk and watched my gloved fingers unscrew the cap and pour him a finger.

Taking the glass from my hand he shot down the whiskey. His eyes screwed shut from the burn at the back of his throat and then took in a sharp breath through his clenched, yellow teeth before he let out a curt laugh.

"If I had a nickel for every time t'is place has been torched... well, I wouldn't be working for Desmond anymore." He laughed, pouring himself another drink. "Ya see Boyo, I've been here a long time. Longer than Desmond and yer Da."

"I don't give a fuck, old man. Get off your ass!" I bellowed, shoving the backpack in his chest.

My demand fell on deaf ears, though. "It's a shame what happened to him, 'ya know. Liam didn't deserve t'at."

"My father was nothing but a miserable drunk. A fucking dreg of society. He deserved what came to him." I snapped, annoyed he kept bringing him up.

The old man's brown eyes slowly rose up to look at me. His wispy grey hair that was once combed over the top of his head was starting to become damp from the sweat forming on his brow. A slow, malevolent smile crept up on his face making his reddening cheeks become more obvious.

"Tell ya what, boyo. You go on over t'ere and grab the third leather book on that shelf and bring it over." He said, trying hard to hold back what sounded like a disbelieving laugh.

Having had enough of his games, I slammed my forearm down on his desk and swiped it across the surface, sending all of his papers, the Jameson and glass crashing to the ground. This seemed to grab his attention. The old man was surprisingly nimble. He shot to his feet and leaned over his desk, putting his face in mine.

"Get the fucking book and I'll get 'ya the goddamn money!" He shouted.

Begrudgingly, I took a step back from him. I kept my gun trained on him and started to walk backwards toward the shelf he had pointed to just before. The old man did as he promised and walked to the safe that was a few feet from his desk and started to work on the lock.

"It's the third book in on the second shelf. The black one."

I turned my head towards the shelf and found the one he was talking about. On the spine of the leather was "1990's" in gold leafing. Opening the book, I saw hand written receipts for all of the money that came into the syndicate from all of the business we own. Receipts for the cops the older generation had paid off. Receipts for hit orders.

"Flip through 'till 'ya get to March 1998. Should be the 26th." The old man said. I heard the combination lock click and then the metallic thump of the handle turning as he opened up the safe.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, I thumbed through the ledger until I got to March 26th. "What the hell is this gonna prove?"

"Read."

Sucking my teeth, I glared at the back of his head and then looked down at the page. At first, the words didn't make any sense to me. There was no way. Reading it over again, I felt my stomach churn as the bile started to raise to the back of my throat. Choking it down I snapped the book shut.

"This isn't real." I was trying to convince myself.

The old man turned around from the safe as he put the last roll of cash into the black backpack. The smug look on his face when he saw me breaking only solidified this was the truth. My lungs seized making it feel impossible to breath. My whole world was imploding around me.

"Yer Da was named Séarlas's successor. Liam was going to be the new Captain when he retired."

"No." I choked out. "No, my dad wasn't a part of the syndicate. He... he was just a fucking drunk."

"He, Desmond and Cain were friends. T'ey rose up in the ranks together. T'ey were furious when Séarlas announced it. Desmond and Cain are the reason yer Da is dead."

He kept talking but the only thing I could hear was the deafening ringing in my ears. Desmond, the man who practically raised me was the reason my father was dead. Tucking the ledger under my arm, I let myself fall back against he book shelf to keep me from falling to the ground. A few books fell from the shelves and thudded against the floor at my feet.

"Des, the bastard, kept yer Da alive long enough for him to see his son eating out of his hand before he killed him." He continued, zipping up the bag and throwing it at my feet. "And by the looks of it, boyo, you've been fed well."

He continued to goad me, even when I lifted my gun and aimed it at his face. "T'ey had planned to make it look like yer Da had stole money from Séarlas. T'ey shot him up good, brought him back to yer Ma. 'Ya see, Liam had kept ya a secret from the whole church. Didn't want his son being roped into the business. When Desmond saw ya... well. Ya know the rest."

I feel myself disassociating from reality. I don't remember much after those words. I remember the sound of the bullet firing from the barrel and into his skull. The warm blood splattering against my face. Somehow Noah and Paul were at my side. Noah pulling me by the collar of my hoodie, Paul by my sleeves. My lungs feeling like they are burning from the scorching smoke I keep breathing in from the burning building around us and then we're outside by my truck.

"Boss," A voice echoes from somewhere beside me. "Hey, bossman!"

Hands grab a hold of my shoulders and I snap. I land my closed fist into the face of whoever has their hands on me. The moment my fist collides with their nose I'm brought back to the world, snapped back into reality.

"Fuck, Noah!" I instantly feel regret crashing over me when I see him crumble to the ground, clutching his broken and bloodied nose.

Paul steps between us and starts hitting his palms against my shoulders, pushing me away from Noah. "Back the fuck up!" He yells in my face, giving me another shove backwards. There must have been something on the ground behind me because I feel it hit the back of my heel right before I fall to the ground. I land on my ass, feeling the broken glass that was on the ground cut through the leather of my gloves.

Paul is crouched down at Noah's side checking to make sure he isn't concussed. Judging by Noah's comments, he's fine. Smoke starts billowing out of the building, filling the alley.

"Come on boss, we gotta go!" Paul yells, tugging Noah to his feet.

I run my now bloody hands through my hair, tugging at it. I can't fucking breathe.

"Declan, let's go!" Paul yells again, this time grabbing me by my hoodie and pulling me up. "Des's guys are on the way, we gotta go!"

Noah is already in the passenger seat, still clutching his face when Paul shoves me in the back seat. He throws something hard on my lap making me jump from the shock. The fucking ledger. It feels like it's burning my skin while it's on my lap. I fling it off of me so it lands on the floor of the 4Runner then I lean over to shut the door. I fall back against the seat, running my hands down my face. My Migraine is back again.

"What the fuck was that?!" Paul demands, turning around to look at me before he starts to pull out of the alley.

"Piss off." I spit.

"You broke my goddamn nose!" Noah whines.

Paul and Noah both start in on me, demanding I tell them what that was all about. Calling me a dick for how I've been acting and for hitting Noah but their voices are fading. I'm blocking them out. Instead, I'm reliving everything from my childhood from a different angle.

It was all right there in front of me all along. Why the fuck else would Desmond come around? Constantly giving food, clothes, money. Helping me and my mom.

My mother. I scoff, shaking my head. My mom has known all along and she never told me. She let me go on believing that my father was a drunk piece of shit who could care less about his wife and son when apparently that couldn't be further from the truth.

My phone buzzes in my pants pocket, taking me out of my mind. Noah and Paul are still yelling at me from the front seat. The moment I open my phone and bring up the text message I feel a primal rage spark inside me.

It's a picture of her.

She's on her knees hunched over, hair covering most of her tear stained face. Blood trickling down from her nose over the Duct tape that's across her lips. Nick is bent down behind her. The mask he has been wearing to cover his deformed face is broken on the ground. His hands are all over her chest.

Unknown: We found her.

-------------------------------------

Thoughts? :)

Please don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter!