Page 96 of Chase

“Well, son,” my father says, diverting my attention to him. “It’s time to say goodbye to your brother. Today, he saves my life, but in doing so, he loses his own. And I know for a fact, Russell, the knowledge you couldn’t stop it will eat you alive from the inside.”

I step forward and he wags a wrinkled finger. “You were always a conundrum. Violent and hot-headed, but fiercely loyal to your siblings. If they knew how many beatings you took for them as children, they would never feel as though they could repay their debt. I’ve never met another man so selfish but selfless at the same time.”

The person I’ve been suppressing for years comes forward. All my days pushing the anger down burst through; all I see is blood red. I look from my father to Marley, two men who take joy in hurting those around them in any way they can.

“You can’t be saved if you’re already dead,” I snarl, lunging forward. Hunter comes to my side, pushing Aiden backward as I grab for my father. An unseen blow knocks me sideways. I stagger, then fall to the floor, and one of the henchmen throws himself on top of me; heavy hands pummel my face. I grasp for his throat, trying to stop him. I hear the wails of men. When I look up, Hunter has grabbed a scalpel from the prepared medical tray and is slicing at his opponents wildly. But there’s only one of him and many of them.

A gunshot rings out, but I have no idea where it came from. Frantically, I kick and push my assailant. I reach on impulse for the hidden gun in my waistband; it’s gone, of course. So I grab the next best thing, a small stool, and slam it against his face. His expression goes blank, then he falls to the side. When I clamber to my feet, the chaos continues. I grab the man’s gun.

Hunter fights off Aiden plus another henchman. My father attempts to move off his bed away from the danger, but his old body doesn’t comply. He’s left sitting like a duck waiting to be shot.

I glance into Connor’s room. Damon is pinning what looks like a doctor to the wall while Harrison points his weapon at Josephine Rivera. The other medics are pushing each other out of the door. Damon raises his gun and fires again. Everyone stops.

“Sew him back up,” Harrison growls to the doctor. I realize then that they have already started operating. The familiar blue sheet poised across my brother’s abdomen with spotlights focused on his stomach.

Connor sleeps peacefully amongst the fray, completely unaware he’s been cut open. I pray we aren’t too late. Damon says something I can’t hear, and the doctor moves to Connor’s side.

With everyone else occupied, I walk over to my father. I lift my hand to my lip, and it comes away red. He grins up nastily.

“That will bruise in the morning, boy,” he says. “You have surprised me with your spirit. If you weren’t such a disappointment as a son, I’d almost be proud of you. There’s certainly part of me in your blood.”

I take my gun, holding it high and bringing it down hard on his cheek. His head snatches sideways, but he laughs.

“You don’t even deserve the freedom of death. I hope you burn in hell,” I tell him.

“Hell is where I’ve always been, boy. My life was spent surrounded by idiots.” Once again, I raise my weapon; this time, my father is staring down the barrel. I look around, and it’s clear we’ve won. “You could never kill me,” my father goads. “Deep down, you’ve always known you owe me. I created you; without me, you would never exist.”

I glare at the man who gave me life, a man who should have made me feel safe, and I want to pull the trigger. But the child in me yearns not to. I want him gone, but not by my hand. I hate him, but my family means everything to me, even if I don’t show it. Harrison reappears with a line of medical staff, Bryan walking at the back. A smaller group of medics continue to work on my brother under Damon’s command, the dividing doors now closed again. Through the glass panes, I can see Connor has been connected to a heart monitor, and the consistent spike of the line brings me a little relief.

Aiden’s eyes land on Harry, and he smirks. “Oh, Harrison Waite, how is Violet?” he asks him. “Is she missing me? Is she still a stupid little bitch with a nice cunt? I hope she appreciates my nod to her in all of this. Varley Medical.” He laughs hard, the sound on the verge of hysteria before placing his hands on his knees and bending from the waist. “Varley and Marley, who’d of thought eh? Sometimes, the obvious clues are in plain sight.”

“Not for you,” Harrison responds deadpan, lifting his gun and shooting Aiden perfectly between the eyes. “You’ll never think a vile thought again.” He drops the weapon, turning to walk away. “I’m off to get my wife. Do what you want with that fuckwit.” My father wails as Marley’s body falls to the floor. His old, tired eyes close tight as his last line of defense falls.

Hunter lines each person up against the wall and begins asking them their names and reasons for being there. Damon appears and pulls a pad and pen from an inside pocket. You can remove him from the police force, but he’ll always be a copper.

“They’re starting to sew him up, but they are scrubbing back up to minimize risk,” he tells me as a way of explanation. “I told that bitch of a doctor he better not die or she’ll be up on a murder charge.” I nod, then return to focus on my father.

“So, son, what’s it to be?” he asks, his voice quiet as he looks at Marley bleeding out on the floor. “I’m beaten. You win.”

“No one wins, Father. That’s where you always got it wrong. When there’s pain and death, most of the time, we all lose.”

The other men in the room are distracted by processing the people apprehended. Damon begins to escort them from the room.

“You have an option, and we could both still come out on top,” my father says.

“And what would that be?” I ask him.

“Release the doctor, let her operate. Your brother will pass away painlessly, and you’ll get the piece of skirt all to yourself. You’ll be a hero for catching the dangerous organ thief, Aiden Marley. You’ll bring to an end a crime circuit no one knew was operating.” He grins. “And you can reward yourself with a fuck with your own tart. You won’t even have to share.”

“And what’s in it for you?” I reply, attempting to bury my disgust behind fake calm. My mind immediately plays the scenario of Samantha’s devastation that we didn’t save my brother. The pain on her face breaks my heart in my imagination, and I am damn sure it will happen in reality. I will not allow my father to hurt her more than he already has.

“I’ll take my new liver and disappear from your life. All I need is the doctor and a few of the staff.”

“No. I’m not the same man you are, and I won’t make a deal with an evil bastard like you.”

I don’t see the approach, but then a bullet passes through my father’s skull. He instantly flops forward. Dead. When I look up, Bryan stands to one side, arms straight in front of him like a zombie. To his side is Samantha, her finger over his on the trigger. I look between them, perplexed. My girl encourages the gun from her friend's fingers; she places it down on the floor.

“Trouble, what the fuck did you do?” I stammer. She walks over and throws her arms around my neck.

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