Chapter 3 - Weak Thought

LORENZO

A FEW HOURS LATER

Elijah has been killed.

I had spent the past two days calling up his people, wanting to know where exactly he is just so I could inform him of matters we couldn't have discussed over the phone.

I didn't take it as serious as I was meant to; I figured he'd gone to one of his clubs again, getting himself buried in pussy and alcohol. I didn't think too much of it.

But seeing his body...

When I got that call from Silas, it was like something in me snapped, a piece of me broke and scattered into pieces beyond any form of repair, like there wasn't already enough damage in me.

And I had spent the past two days not bothering to search properly, dismissing it like it's nothing and now.

I inhale deeply, my heart unfamiliar with the ache that spreads through it. My eyes stay trained on the hole between his eyes, never moving.

"Those fucking bastards!"

I hear Silas growl beside me, followed by the sound of his leg hitting metal. He is furious, his gray eyes roaming across every inch of Elijah's cold body. He paces the cold room, and I notice how his fists clench and unclench repeatedly. He is on edge, barely managing to rein in his emotions.

The last time I saw him like this, it didn't end well for the people that looked at him funny.

Noir was supposed to be here with us but refuses to see Elijah's body; instead, he chooses to investigate in his own way, and God knows I feel sorry for whoever it is he gets his hands on first.

That man is barely holding it together, fighting his demons just like all four of us have been for the years we've been together.

Our brotherhood made it easier, made us stronger, more capable than we would have all been alone.

Now, we've lost one, and I know all hell is going to break loose.

I have to remind myself I am calmer. I have to be clear-headed; that is the only way to get to the bottom of this. To get the fucker who did this to our brother and peel every inch of skin from the bastard's bones until there's nothing left but pain and misery.

Whoever did this will pay a hundred—fuck that—a thousandfold.

And I am going to see to it.

"Breathe, Silas," I try to calm the pacing man in front of me. His eyes are unfocused, wild with bloodlust.

I can't control him, not when he's like this.

"Breathe?" He stops in his tracks, his towering height looming over me. I'm not the least bit intimidated, but I know I shouldn't push any further.

"Do you see Elijah?" His tattooed fingers gesture at the body. "He's fucking gone! A fucker somehow grew balls and put a bullet through his head!"

I nod stiffly, my eyes avoiding Elijah now. "I can see that, now breathe," I repeat, my voice hard, teeth gnashing against one another.

Letting my emotions loose won't do anyone good, not right now.

I have to think deeper.

I have to be more rational.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" He throws his hands in the air, exasperated, angry, and no doubt tempted to put his fists through something. I know I am.

I turn my attention to the mortuary attendant who looks rather terrified at the sight of my brother and me.

I notice, it just isn't important enough to address.

"Has anyone else been here to see this body?" I ask.

Whoever it is that came here first would have a connection to what happened.

If there's anything I know about our world, it's that the need to relive your victory is far too great that sometimes the majority toss away common sense just to have the opportunity to gloat.

I hope this would be no different.

I hope I would be knuckles deep in some bastard's stomach by this time tomorrow.

The attendant shakes his head, his entire face covered in sweat as he looks at me and looks away repeatedly.

Fucking pussy.

Yet, I don't blame him.

It isn't everyday one could see a member or even two of The Black Rose without dying afterwards.

But then again, it isn't every time one sees a member of The Black Rose in a fucking freezer.

"I...there..." The attendant's voice shakes, wearing my patience thin the longer he delays. "The sister of Mr. Knight had come to claim his belongings, along with a detective...a Mr. Justin, I think?"

I freeze.

"What sister?" Silas takes the question right out of my mouth. He's stopped pacing now, standing in front of the attendant with a menacing glare that makes the man's legs tremble visibly.

"Elijah doesn't have a sister," I say to the attendant, crossing my arms over my chest as my eyes narrow in suspicion.

The attendant shakes his head. "No, he definitely did. She was practically a female version of him, the hair color and everything...hot and..."

His words trail off when he sees the looks on our faces.

He clears his throat. "She was brought here by the detective. She seemed really heartbroken after seeing Mr. Knight," The attendant shakes his head. "Which is why I don't understand why she would leave all of his belongings at the entrance of the hospital."

My hands drop to my sides as I digest every word I hear.

A sister?

Elijah never mentioned he had a sister.

He never spoke about his family...so maybe...

"When was this?"

"Three hours ago, after midnight I think," the attendant says.

His words replay in my head, a few more times in the seconds that pass.

I meet Silas' eyes, and I can tell he's thinking the same thing.

I wouldn't put it past Elijah to keep such a thing from us. After all, he was the most closed off; we knew he had a fucked up childhood but not the extent of it.

"You say she left his belongings?" Silas asks, his voice much calmer than it had been seconds ago.

"Yes, and hers as well, so strange."

And hers?

Who is this woman?

Wait...if she really is...

"You say she was here with a detective?"

The attendant nods. "A Mr. Justin Powers or something like that. He seemed very disinterested in the case; he made the young lady cry."

I hear Silas' sharp intake of breath.

Justin is under the Magliana payroll; anyone who is anyone knows that. The second he learns a Black Rose has a known family member, he'll definitely take that to them, and in turn...

Those bastards fear us so much that they'd take any means necessary to weaken us.

Were they also responsible for Elijah's death?

No, the Magliana don't have the balls to face the repercussions of killing one of our own.

But, they are desperate to recover what we've taken from them after gaining control of the city. Killing Elijah won't get them what they need...but having leverage...

"They have her," Silas concludes just as the thought comes to me.

I nod, quickly formulating a plan as I pull out my wallet and two bills from it along with my card and I hand it over to the attendant.

"If she returns, you call me first, and if I find out otherwise, you will lose your fingers and your tongue."

The man gasps; he shakily takes the money and card from me, face going green as if he is about to throw up.

Silas pushes the drawer and Elijah's body back into the cold that is now his new home.

He is truly gone.

"He's not kidding," Silas adds with a snarl, looking like a dog about to break loose from his leash.

He isn't the mad one, Noir is.

Now their roles seem to have been reversed because of Elijah.

I turn around and make my way to the entrance, my feet dragging, heavier than they'd been in years.

I don't want to leave him there, in the cold, frozen like some object without life in it.

It's like a magnetic pull, holding me back, urging me to stay with him.

The foolish part of me, the weak part that I'd spent years burying, begins to resurface.

'He'll be lonely,' the voice says.

And that is sobering enough. Such a weak thought has no business in my head.

He knew what he was stepping in when he chose this life, we all did.

Silas pushes open the door; in his eyes is a battle I'd only seen a handful of times.

Walking out this door also means accepting that he is gone, for good.

Still, Elijah loved someone so much that he kept her completely out of this life, a sister.

And I'll be damned if I let her meet the same fate.

Or, whoever this sister was...she meant trouble, a weak-link we couldn't just leave running around, I couldn't be sure until I had her in front of me.

As if reading my mind, Silas' gray eyes meet mine, a dark glint seeping through the cracks of hurt that had morphed his usual gaze.

"Let's go get those bald bastards," he voices, his anger palpable.

I nod.

By the time the day is over, I am going to be covered in blood.

And God knows, I am looking forward to it.