**The end of this chapter contains violence/gore. You've been warned.

Declan

Burning hot pain shoots through my brain making me jolt up. My eyes snap open causing another painful stab. I grab at my skull to try and stop the pain but the moment I close my eyes I see what was left of Paul's face staring back at me.

"Fuck!" I yell out, using my heals to push myself back until I hit something hard behind me. A bright light flashes in my vision when I hit my head off of the wall. My heart is hammering inside my chest making it hard to take in air. I can hear my pulse hammering in my ears. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

A door to my left opens letting light flood into the room followed by muffled voices and shuffling feet.

It wasn't real. It can't be real.

I'm hyperventilating. I can feel myself starting to become dizzy from the lack of oxygen. My hands are trembling so violently it's causing my head to shake while I grab at my hair, hiding my face behind my forearms.

But there's no hiding from it. Paul's face is haunting me. I see it even with my eyes open. I can hear the cracking, squelching sounds of the rebar embedding into his skull over and over and over.

"Such a good pup," Desmond's disembodied voice says from behind me. "Just like I trained you."

"No!" I scream, turning sharply with my closed fist to punch Desmond. I groan from the pain of my knuckles landing in the drywall behind me. Confused, I watch the blood dripping from my knuckles while I pull my fist from the wall. Wasn't Desmond just behind me?

"Adam!" Someone's distorted voice calls.

"Don't blame me, Deco. I didn't do this, you did." Desmond's voice goads. Paul's face is there again, staring.

"Where are you?" I snarled. My vision was starting to fade. "Where are you?!"

Something wraps around my arms, stopping me from my thrashing and knocks me down onto a mattress. Weight pushes on my shoulders, forcing me further down onto the mattress. More muffled words float around me but they're more frantic now.

I screwed my eyes shut from what feels like a fucking knife stabbing into my brain. Jesus Christ, this fucking headache. Paul's face flashes behind my closed eyes again making me choke on my breath.

"Get the Narcan!"

My eyes shoot open. Dark figures are surrounding me. They're the ones holding me down despite how hard I'm fighting back. Another figure comes from somewhere in the room and goes for my legs, trying to keep me from kicking them off of me.

I see Desmond, clear as day, standing behind them. The same smile on his face from when he shot my father.

"I'll fucking kill you!" My voice breaks as I scream. "I'll fu-"

My words are cut off by something cold being shoved up my nose followed by a burning sensation that travels over my brain like dry-ice being injected into my skull.

Almost instantly, the shadows melt away from the figures around me and I see familiar faces take their place. Noah is above me, Ben at my side and Tommy at my legs. Adam is hovering over my chest with some white plastic device in his fingers.

When I stop fighting against them, Adam throws whatever was in his hand to the ground. My eyes follow it as it skids across the floor to where Desmond was standing before. My brows furrow when I see that he's gone.

"Where is he?"

"Where's who?" Adam asks.

I look up at him. "Desmond."

"He's not here." Tommy responds.

"No, he was right over there." I say, adamant on what I'd just seen. The room around me comes into focus. I'm in the crying room under the abandon church down at the wharf.

"He's still hallucinating from the Z." Adam says to no one in particular. "We haven't seen Desmond since he left The Atlantic."

The Atlantic. That's right. Anatoly shoved all those pills in my mouth. And then they took me to that room and... my parents were there. I watched him kill my dad. Flashes of broken images, sounds, screams flood my mind. Paul's dead face staring back at me.

My stomach tightens and I can feel bile rise to the back of my throat.

But Adam just said I was hallucinating, I tell myself. It wasn't real. I can feel some weight being lifted from my chest. They were just messed up images created by the opioid in my system.

But those screams. They sounded so real.

Scarlett. She was with me. My heart constricts in my chest. It was her screams. What did they do to her? Rage ignites deep inside me. If they so much as laid a finger on her, I'll burn their whole goddamn world to the ground.

"Scarlett, where is she?" I can feel my jaw clenching. I sit up on the cot and move to get up but Noah appears above me and pushes me back down with force. He glares at me, his lip ticking up in a sneer.

"The fuck?" I growl.

"You almost died, Declan. Your brain was floating in Z, you clenched your jaw so tight you broke all your back teeth and your pissing blood, I can't let you leave. You could still OD." Adam answers, pointing to the IV bag on a makeshift pole next to the cot.

"Fuck this." I look down at my hand and pull the cannula from my vein. Blood, magnesium and saline fluids from the IV start to drip down my hand while I push them off of me.

"Give me Narcan and I'll keep it on me. I have to save her!" My chest is heaving from the anxious feeling that's consuming me. I feel like there's some invisible countdown happening. Counting down the minutes until she's killed or worse. How the fuck are they being so lax? "Noah, Ben, grab Paul. Let's go!"

Ben and Noah look between themselves but say nothing. I grab the medical tape from the counter on the other side of the room and rip off a few inches with my teeth and tape a gauze pad to my hand. Looking around the room, I search for any of my duffel bags. I'll need guns, magazines, kevlar, knives. Everything.

Annoyed that the boys are standing there with their dicks in their hands, I turn on them and start yelling. "Let's fucking go, I gave an order!" But they still don't move.

I wave them off and turn to Tommy. "Where are my weapons?"

More silence.

"Paul!" I scream out, annoyed no one is listening to me. He always listens. Through all of this, Paul has always had my back.

The four of them are watching my frenetic actions of tearing through the room, looking for anything since no one is saying a word.

"Declan," Adam starts but I cut him off.

"If you're not about to put some Narcan in my hand or tell me where my shit is, then shut the fuck up." I wasn't going to play their game anymore. I can't wait. Scarlett can't wait.

"Paul's dead." Noah seethes. "You killed him."

I stop dead in my tracks. How would he know that? I was drugged, hallucinating. There is no way he could know that. I look to Ben who has his gaze fixed on the ground. He won't even look at me. No. I look to Adam and Tommy who both wear a sympathetic expression.

"No." Is all I can muster. The cracking sounds are back and I swear I can smell the blood. I thrust out my open hand to Adam. "Adam, I-I need more. I'm still hallucinating."

Adam shakes his head at me. "No."

A cold sweat breaks over me and I feel my hands starting to shake violently at my sides. I fight back a gag, refusing to vomit. "No, I-I don't believe you. No!"

"You killed him, you piece of shit!" Ben wraps his arms around Noah, trying to hold him back but he breaks free and comes straight for me. His fist collides with my jaw, snapping my head to the right.

The world starts spinning around me and I see stars in my vision. Stumbling on my feet, Tommy moves to help me stay upright. Noah hits me again, this time hitting my ear causing a ringing so deafening I swear my eardrum is about to rupture. I use my tongue to push what's left of my back teeth and blood out of the corner of my mouth.

Ben finally pulls him back from me but I can see by the look on his face he'd much rather watch Noah beat the shit out of me.

"He was like a brother to us!" Noah screams, pointing between him and Ben. A single tear falls down the side of his face before he wipes it away with his sleeve.

"I thought he was Desmond." There's a slight slur to my words from him hitting my jaw.

"I don't give a shit." Noah snaps.

"He was drugged, Noah. He had no clue where the hell he was. He didn't even know he was choking the life out of Scarlett." Tommy fought back.

"What?" I turn fast on Tommy making myself become unbalanced on my feet. I grab him by the shirt to hold myself up from falling. "What happened?!"

Tommy grabbed my hands, his eyes wide for a moment. "In the interrogation room, you were losing it. You were yelling something and then turned on her. You grabbed her throat and slammed her against the wall. The moment she went limp is when the Russian's burst in. They dragged you out of the room and that's when we came to get you."

"Paul got to you first with the Narcan." Ben explained, finally looking at me. The ire in his eyes was enough to burn me alive. "We got to the alley just in time to see you laughing while you bludgeoned Paul to death."

"I thought he was Desmond." I whispered. My head was reeling from Noah and the floor was moving under my feet making me feel seasick. I sink to my knees, looking down at my hands that still had Paul's dried blood on them.

"I saw Desmond. I thought it was Desmond!" I yelled. They know what happened to me. They know what Z does yet they aren't listening to a goddamn word coming out of my mouth.

Noah waved his hand dismissively then spit on the ground in front of me. Now I was fucking pissed. I open my mouth to speak but my lungs hitch making me choke trying to breathe. Wiping the blood and spit from my chin with the back of my hand I notice that I can no longer feel my face. Fuck. I let out a curt laugh then roll my head to look up at Noah.

"You remember that rooftop, kid?" More blood is running out of my mouth as I speak. Noah stops, his back still to me. "I'll forgive your little tantrum," I cough, feeling something hard in my mouth "just now."

Spitting out another piece of a tooth on the ground I wince. My tongue goes to the sharp remnants at the back of my mouth, feeling for what's left. "Paul was a good kid...and, shit, I can't even fucking breath right now," I struggle to fill my lungs "but fucking believe me... or don't, that I don't remember laying a hand on him."

My breaths sound wet and labored. "Take one more swing and I will fucking throw you off this goddamn roof."

"Adam, Christ, I... I need something." I fall forward, catching myself on my hands so my face doesn't smack off the ground. How the hell can I feel everything and nothing at all? This weight in my chest was becoming oppressive. "Please!"

"This is the comedown, there's nothing I can do." He replies, letting out a shaky breath.

I push myself back and catch myself on the cot that's behind me and manage to get myself back on my feet. I put my hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady myself then turn back to Ben and Noah.

"You can't have brothers in this life... only a few friends... the rest are ghosts." Noah and Ben both hold my stare, not backing down.

"We have fucking work to do." I manage between another coughing fit.

"Where are they now? Where is she?" I demand, trying to bring my mind back to what I'm about to do. What needs to be done.

"They took her to a warehouse." Tommy said after a long silence between us.

I didn't even bother looking at him when he speaks. I've a million voices in my head pulling me in different directions. I'm desperate to formulate a plan but all I hear is her screaming because of me.

"Nick dropped her and Alex off there. Nick is supposed to be on his way back to The Atlantic to pick you from the Bratva to deliver you to Desmond." Tommy continues.

"How long until he's supposed to get there?" I ask, my voice low.

"About forty minutes, give or take."

I finally manage a breath, filly my lungs. "Where's my stuff?"

Tommy and Adam helped me out of the church to the alley where my truck was parked. They said some of my gear was still in the back. They were going on about how we need more help. Begging me to call on more members for help, that I can't do this shit on my own. I ignored everything after that. They don't understand. Desmond Kelly, Nick Kelly, Anatoly Litvinenko and Alex Volkov are dying tonight.

The pain killing effects of Z are slowly wearing off because the agony from the last ten hours is sinking in in random places. I only remember bits and pieces of what happened before I was drugged. I remember handing myself over to Desmond who immediately punched my face, my eye went to shit right there. I'm made aware of it by the sharp pain every time I move my eyes. He did the typical mafioso bullshit of going for the fingers, the pussy, before he let two of his new recruits take turns working me over.

While I was passed out, Adam put my broken fingers in a splint and patched up all the holes they put in me. Careful not to pull any stitches out, I pull my shirt off over my head and grit my teeth. Looking down at my side I see the bits of bare skin between my tattoos have turned a deep shade of blue from my broken ribs. I don't remember that, I think to myself.

I put on a clean shirt and maneuver into my kevlar vest. Between the broken ribs and the weight of the vest its now impossible for me to take a deep breath despite how hard I'm trying.

I run a hand over my face to wipe off the layer of sweat on my brow. Despite feeling the soreness of my eye socket, I still can't feel the rest of my face. Suppose that's a good thing.

Ripping the splint from my fingers I throw it to the ground and push through the pain in my chest to buckle up the vest the rest of the way. I work to attach the empty knife sheath to my thigh and stow the few loaded magazines I have in the pockets of my tactical pants. I shove my pistols into their holsters, one in the waistband at the front of my pants and one on the back.

I pull the serrated knife from my duffel bag by its blade and flip it up, catching it by the hilt. Some things just can't be done with bullets, I think as the light of the full moon above glints off the blade. I was never one for knives but sometimes, nothing but the intimacy of watching the lights go out in their eyes while driving serrated steel through their soul is the only way to get the point across.

I shove the knife into the sheath on my thigh and let out a curt laugh. Heavy work tonight. The only good thing about coming down off this shit is I can't seem to shy away from any of the sick thoughts running through my head. Not one single twisted idea about what I'm going to do seems to bother me at all.

"Byrne!" Ben's voice calls out behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turn slowly and rest myself against the open trunk of the 4Runner. Staying quiet, I wait for him to talk.

"The only reason I'm helping you tonight is because they know about my sister. I'm doing this to keep her safe." He explains. "After all of this shit is over, I'm getting Lydia and I the hell out of this city and far the fuck away from the family."

Before I can stop myself I scoff. "There's no getting out of the church. You're a parishioner until you die or your killed. Your choice."

"I can't let this happen to my sister." He bites back.

"Staying would be the safest thing for her." I counter. Ben's shoulders drop, he knows I'm right wether he wants to believe me or not. Once this shit is all sorted, we'll be able to protect Lydia properly.

"Where's the other one?" I ask, my tone sharp. "We don't have time."

"He's getting the last of his shit together." Ben replies.

The both of us hear the side door of the church open, pulling our attention from each other. "Speak of the devil." Ben states, walking over to the truck to put his stuff in and start it.

"Don't say a fucking word to me." Noah points his finger at me. "The second we're done doing your dirty work old man, I'm going to get my brother out of whatever hole Desmond has him in and then I never want to see your face again."

Noah walks to the truck, opening the back door so he could throw his backpack in then comes to face me. I push myself from the truck, the world still swaying under me and straighten my spine so that I'm looking down at him.

He matched my intensity, not backing down. "Face it, gramps. After all the shit I put you through, if you were really going to throw me off the roof you'd have done it by now." He looks up at the roof of the church then down to the ground. "Besides, from that height, I'd only break my leg. Should find a better building to threaten me with."

"Not if I drop you on your head." I quip. "Shut the fuck up, Lowlife and get in the truck."

Ben walks past me towards the drivers seat. I grab him by the collar of his own kevlar vest and pull him back. The force has me staggering on my feet to keep my balance. He looks back at me with knitted brows.

"I'm driving." I state and push past him.

"Declan, Christ, you shouldn't be behind the wheel. Pull over." Ben hollers, grabbing the wheel and swerving out of the way of the oncoming traffic. I can barely make out the distance between the other vehicles on the road and the world is still spinning around me.

"I'm fine!" I yell back, pushing him away from the wheel.

"Boss, you're coming down off of an overdose. Let us help you, you stubborn ass!" Noah yells from the backseat.

"We're already here, knock it off." I pull down a side street that will dump us out in the small back parking lot of The Atlantic. According to the text messages Tommy read between Nick and Alex, Nick was expecting to pick up my drugged body in the alley between my building and the corporate building next to it.

Pulling into the parking lot I'm met with a fortunate stroke of serendipity. There, walking toward the mouth of the alley was Nick fucking Kelly.

I hammered my boot against the accelerator.

"Shit, Declan, Declan!!" Ben yells, putting his open hands on the dashboard, bracing himself for impact.

The front end of my truck clipped Nick in the shoulder, his body twisted and spun into the brick wall where he hit the side of his face off of the wall. His blood splattered on the brick like a burst water balloon.

I couldn't help the maniacal laugh that escaped me.

"Declan!"

Noah's screams brought me back just as we were about to crash head on into one of the garbage dumpsters. Slamming on the breaks, I swerve quickly out of the way. I manage to save it but bust up the right headlight causing the plastic cover to shatter.

I slam the gear shift into park, push open my door and roll out of the truck. Stumbling on my feet once I'm out, I slam my shoulder against the side of the truck to keep from falling and right myself. I propel myself off of the truck and run towards Nick who's writhing on the ground.

Grabbing his shirt collar, I lift him off of the ground and force him into the wall. There's a huge, open gash revealing his skull on his forehead from where he hit the wall. Blood is pouring down his face into his eye, staining it red. Nick's shirt rips from where I'm holding it and I see his clavicle is broke and protruding from his skin. His arm hanging limp at his side.

"Where's the captain?" I seethe, shaking him. I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins like acid.

Nick's head lulls forward. His pained moans and whimpers are echoing off of the alley walls. When he doesn't answer me I slam my fist into his gut. I can hear the air being forced from his lungs while he doubles over, blood and spit dripping from his cut up lips.

Pulling him back up, I scream in his face. "Where the fuck is Desmond?!"

I have to put my own hand against the wall to keep myself upright. Fuck, this spinning shit needs to stop.

"A-at... his... office." Nick slurs. Looking at his eyes I see them bouncing back and forth in his skull, his jaw hanging open. He can barely hold himself up on his own. The moment I let go of his shirt he crumbles to the ground with a grunt.

I drop to my knees beside him. "Thanks, Nick." Using my thumb to unclip the material over the hilt of my knife, I pull it from its sheath at my thigh. "We're gonna go pay him a little visit next."

Nick's head is rolling from side to side while he lays on the damp concrete. The boy's rushed footsteps stop somewhere behind me just as I press the serrated edge to Nick's throat. I swing my leg over his torso and grab the hair at the top of his head to keep him still then start sawing at his throat.

Blood splatters up, coating my face, neck and hands as soon as I break skin. He screams for only a second before he's choking and spitting up his blood. The sharpened steel cuts through his skin and muscle like butter, barely slowing me down. He's thrashing under me, trying to get me off of him. I flex my legs to try and keep him still because his thrashing is making the pain in my ribs worse. But between the rapid blood loss and his head trauma he's weak.

Nick is dead within seconds but I don't stop.

Everything that's happened to me, to her, to the boys has fanned this inhuman rage that's coursing through me like an inferno. Fueling me to keep hacking at Nick's dead body. Even with his blood stinging my eyes, I keep sawing away, laughing as I do.

He helped destroy the world I built for myself. He kept the secret of what Desmond did to my parents. He touched her. Nick deserved so much worse than this.

When I get to his cervical spine my knife catches on one of the vertebrae. I force myself up to my feet, keeping hold of the hair at the top of his head. My chest is heaving from my actions.

I use my boot to kick the spot of his spine that's the only thing keeping his head attached to his body. The cartilage snaps making his limp body fall to the ground while his head stays in my hand. His blood dripping down onto my boots and the ground around me.

Out of breath, I let out another laugh. Looking up at the boys I see Ben's pale face scrunched up in disgust. Noah is oddly quiet, no stupid fucking remarks. "Time to pay Desmond a visit."

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Thoughts? 😬

Bye, Nick! ✔️