I’m feeling pretty miserable when we park near The Hen and The Snare. It’s bad enough letting my dad walk all over me, but letting it happen in front of Alexan is humiliating.
I want to be a stronger person now that I’m out of my father’s house. And I think I am, at least a little bit every day. Going back there makes me regress to that pathetic loser I used to be, and it makes me sick remembering the way my father’s always been such a fucking bully.
It’s not easy to shrug off that shitty interaction as I head into The Hen. Alexan follows close behind like a protective bloodhound. The place is loud and surprisingly crowded for the early evening, with most of the tables packed by youngish people and a lot of men and women in business casual clothes. I’m guessing they’re the post-work rush.
“I don’t see him,” I mumble as we search the people at the bar. “I really thought he’d be here.” I check the back hall, and Alexan even pokes his head into the men’s room. I’m about to totally give up when I come back out into the main room and spot my cousin Ricky sitting in the far corner.
He glances up when I approach. His face is tense and his eyes are sunken, and right away I can tell something’s wrong. He’s a good friend of my brother’s and a few years older than us both. I grew up with Ricky, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s surprised to see me, and not in a good way.
“Riles, what’s up?” he says, glancing uneasily at Alexan. My husband looms behind me, big and scary in his sleek Armani suit.
“I’m looking for Brenden. Have you seen him?”
Ricky clears his throat. “I mean, I guess a little bit.”
My eyebrows raise. “What’s that mean?”
“It’s complicated, you know?” Ricky squirms and downs his beer. “I don’t think he’d want you getting involved.”
Alexan steps forward. He leans in slightly. “Where is he?” he asks simply.
Ricky stares at Alexan, clearly afraid. A little thrill runs into my stomach. It’s one thing living with the gorgeous hulking monstrosity all the time, but it’s another to see the way other people react to him too.
And I like it. The way Alexan demands respect.
“They showed up for him.” Ricky looks from Alexan to me, clearly panicking. “I couldn’t do anything. I swear, I tried, but—”
“Who came?” Terror jolts into my stomach. “Ricky, who the fuck came?”
“They’re out back,” he whispers, looking down at the table, then back up again. “Don’t go out there. Please, Riles, he wouldn’t want you getting involved. Just… just let them figure it out, okay? You can wait here with me, and—”
I’m already running. I sprint to the door, ignoring the looks I get, and fling it open. There’s an alley alongside The Hen, and that must be where they took him. I make it two steps before Alexan’s got my arm.
“Hold on there,” he snarls, pulling me back.
“Let me go,” I say, struggling toward the alley entrance. “Alexan, please. Brenden’s in trouble. Let me go!”
“You’re being too loud,” he snaps and drags me back. He pushes me against the wall. “Deep breaths. Come on, fucking breathe, Riley. I’m going to take care of this, alright? But you’ve got to stay calm. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Alexan.” I’m hyperventilating. I have to struggle to get myself under control. “They’re hurting him again.”
“I know.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls a gun from a concealed holster. “But I’ll handle it.” He lets me go and turns to the alley.
I follow him. I know I shouldn’t. This isn’t something I should see, but I have to know Brenden’s okay. He gestures for me to wait further back, but I don’t listen as he stalks down the narrow gap between buildings, his expensive loafers sloshing through stagnant, dirty water.
There are figures down near the dumpsters. Dread fills me, cold and biting. Alexan doesn’t slow as one person turns away and comes toward him.
The man is short. He’s maybe my height, but stocky, with dark buzzed hair and an ugly scar near his chin. “Who the fuck are you?” he demands.
Beyond him, two more men are kicking something. It looks like a burlap sack. But then the sack moves, and I realize it’s Brenden, bloody and battered, curled up in a little stretch of mud.
Alexan doesn’t answer. He darts forward, blindingly fast, and bashes the scarred man in the mouth. The scarred man staggers back, blood spilling from his lips, as Alexan drops to one knee and raises his gun.
He blows the skull off one of Brenden’s attackers. I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Blood splatters all over the dumpster in a spray of gore and red. The body slumps sideways and falls as the other attacker turns, pulling his own gun, looking terrified.
Alexan moves. He’s sleek and powerful. I’m in awe as he easily shoots the scarred man in the gut, grabs him by the neck, and jerks his head to the side. His spine cracks with an audible snap. Alexan uses the scarred man’s corpse as a shield, shoving it forward.
The last attacker staggers backward to keep the body from landing on him. That leaves Alexan enough time to cover the distance between them. The attacker tries to raise his gun, but Alexan knocks it sideways, knees him in the stomach, elbows him in the throat, and puts his gun against the man’s temple.
“Who do you work for?” Alexan asks.
The man curses at him in rapid Spanish.
“Try again.” Alexan lowers the gun and shoots him in the foot.
The man screams and falls to the ground. Alexan kneels on his throat and rips the gun from his hand. He tosses it aside.
“Who do you work for?” he asks.
“Los Sombras,” the man says, whimpering, tears rolling down his face as his face turns red. “Los Sombras, Los Sombras, por favor, no me mates.”
Alexan leans harder on his neck, making him gag. He stays there for what feels like a very long time until the last Los Sombras attacker fades and slowly dies.
I can’t move. It happened so fast. There were three of them, and now there are none. All dead under Alexan’s vicious and ruthless onslaught. My husband slowly stands, and I see him for what he is.
Magnificent. Brutal. Deadly. Beautiful.
I’ve never wanted him more in my life.
He glances back at me, his gaze dark and hooded.
“Riley?” My brother’s voice snaps me out of it. “Alexan? What the fuck?”
I run to him. Brenden’s covered in filth and blood. One eye is swollen shut, and he’s missing at least one tooth. He spits more blood and groans, hand pressed against his side as he struggles to sit up.
“I got you,” I say, helping him. “Oh, god, Brenden. They were going to kill you.”
“Probably,” he says, his face twisted in agony. “How did you find me?”
“Ricky told us you were back here.” I try to wipe some of the dirt from his face, but I only manage to smear the bloody mud around. “We’ll get you help. The hospital—”
“No,” Brenden says sharply. “No hospital.”
I look at Alexan, panicking. “We have to do something.”
“We’ll go back to our place,” Alexan says. He goes to Brenden’s other side and takes some of his weight. “We need to hurry, though. Someone heard those gunshots.”
“Fuck,” Brenden whispers as we move. He’s clearly in a lot of pain. “You killed them. They were Los Sombras.”
“And now they’re all dead,” Alexan says. “They can’t talk, and you shouldn’t either.”
We get him out of the alley and into the back of the car. I sit with him as Alexan drives fast away from The Hen. I briefly wonder if I should text Ricky and let him know that Brenden’s alive, but fuck it. He didn’t do shit to help my brother.
Alexan stays completely calm as he navigates back to the Inner Harbor.
Once we’re at the house, I help Brenden inside as gently as I can. I notice the front door isn’t locked, but I’m too busy worrying about my brother to think about it.
We head into the foyer, and I almost don’t notice the basket lying at the foot of the steps until I’m right on top of it.
“The fuck is that?” Brenden asks.
We stagger backward. The smell is terrible, like something rotten. Alexan pushes forward, putting himself between me and whatever the thing is. He kneels down and lifts off a cloth covering the top.
A human head is inside, and I know that face.
“Oh my god,” I say, gripping Brenden tightly. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
Jeremy Fong’s lifeless eyes stare at nothing as flies buzz around his bloody mouth.
