Page 78 of Seizing Control: Part Two

With a bunch of Maddisons out there somewhere, Hunter will be outgunned on the roof. There’s a single prospect on the gate. A teenager who is a newbie with a gun. Toker has tagged him as barely proficient, so chances are he’s already dead—thanks to my brilliant idea to hollow out the security at the compound so I could kill myself in peace. It was a mistake. One that has the potential to catch my little brother in the backlash. With everything that I’ve done this year, I can’t risk getting my biological brother killed in the crossfire.

Or Lazarus.

It hurts like fuck to admit this to myself, but his death would hurt my wife.

He’s happy to step up as the father I’m unable to be.

His existence is important.

Mine not so much.

And that’s why I step away from Hugh and lower the Glock I stole from him toward the floor. Hugh’s gaze fills with triumph, then he uses his head to motion his soldier to cover me while he makes his escape.

Immediately, the other man spreads his legs and fixes his focus on me.

“You’re a goddamn coward?—”

“Catch,” Hugh speaks over Lazarus. He tosses something small at the bleeding man. It glints in the fluorescent light, a gold chain whips through the air before Lazarus catches it in his hand. “I’ll be back to pick up my thank you present soon.”

The strange comment doesn’t really register with me as I chase them through my musty bedroom toward the side door. The same door that I locked earlier. It’s obviously how they got in here unnoticed and is going to conceal their exit as well. Forgetting that I’m naked, I’m ready to follow them outside and risk a hail of bullets being pumped into me if it means I can kill Hugh, when my legs are swept out from under me.

“Stay down,” Lazarus orders. “They’re already gone... not gonna let you make matters worse.” He presses his booted foot to my throat, pinning me back in place whenever I try to get back up. Blood splashes my face every time he jostles me, and he growls, “Can’t believe I got shot tryna save your dumbarse.”

There’s pure Venom in his voice.

Seems he’s reached his breaking point.

Welcome to the damn club...

“Consider us even,” I retort. “I saved you from taking a second one.” As he wavers on his feet, I add. “If you’d let me up, I’ll go and get the medics.”

“No need.” He grunts. “They’re moving in now.”

I’m not sure what point he’s trying to drive home when he presses his weight to my throat again, but the maniacal edge to his leering grin makes me think he’s serious about the implicit threat. The rasping sound that escapes my lungs when I inhale is harsh. When I glare up at him, he glowers down at me.

We engage in a tense stare down that he breaks first.

Clutching his side, Lazarus moves away from me to plonk on the edge of my mattress. I roll onto my side, pushing back to my feet with a groan. After retrieving a clean t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers, I rush to dress before the footsteps pounding down the hallway reach us. The jeans that I’m tugging up my legs are dirty enough to stand up on their own. It’s a non-issue since I’m not all that fussed about making a good impression on a bunch of the Adjudicator’s yes-men. Even so, the way Lazarus wrinkles his nose at me almost makes me second guess my decision not to grab a clean pair of pants.

Rather than give in, I turn my back on him.

“Lazarus.” The lead medic says my ex-best friend’s name with respect as he enters my room. “Layla sent me—ah, heck.” When his voice takes on a sense of urgency, I spin around to see what’s caught his attention. Lazarus is slumped over, apparently unconscious, face down on my messy bed. “Put him on his back. Check his airways... see what’s up with him.”

“Need you to check him over properly,” I interject. The four men ignore me as they get to work on Lazarus. “He’s been shot, at least once.”

“Neale.” The guy in charge offers me his hand while one of the others cut open the damp white shirt that’s stained red in places. Lazarus’ tattoos are exposed. The bullet wound in his side is going to leave a scar through the cherub inked on his stomach. Averting my eyes, I shake his hand, dropping it in a rush when he hits me with a knowing look. “Attempted suicide?”

“Off the record, yes,” I reply. Neale doesn’t seem to judge me. He simply nods at my candour, then gives me a tight smile when I add. “On the record, I was ambushed by the Maddison clan.”

Conversation over, we return our attention to Lazarus.

The stubborn fool is awake and slapping hands away from his injury.

“I’m fine... it’s a flesh wound at best.”

“You passed out,” I remind him. With all the blood, pulsing from the round hole in his side at regular intervals, I am not as inclined as he is to brush off his injury. “Think you might need?—”

“What I need is a break from your bullshit.” The medical team seems to freeze in unison at his hostility. Lazarus scowls at them, and the four of them step away from him. “Neale.” He beckons the leader forward. “Need your team to patch up his head... I’m sending him home with Hunter.” My scoff is ignored, and he shoots me a quelling look when he commands, “This will be registered as a normal post-ambush callout, you hear me.”

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