Page 57 of Brando

“Brando and Rafi are still in there,” one of the men says, as he reports to Scar.

“Damn it!”

Scar loads his gun and grabs a rifle from another one of the men who’s just joined our huddled group.

“You can’t go back in there,” someone says, as they look at Scar’s face. “The house could blow at any minute.”

Scar is a new father. He has a family, and yet he risks everything as he starts storming toward the house in search of his brothers. But it’s the strangest thing as I watch in awe; all the men follow. Despite his repeated demands for them to stay back, they follow on his heels, loyal to the death.

But he doesn’t make it very far before three figures emerge from the side of the house; a big bulky man flanked by two men on either side of him. Brando and Rafi. And I hear the curse that leaves Scar’s lips as he approaches his brothers…

“I’m going to fucking kill you two for disobeying my orders.”

My heart beats a little too fast, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, but it’s slowly fading, leaving behind the heavy weight of exhaustion. I’m tired and defeated beyond all measure.

Yet I can’t seem to help myself. Despite the exhaustion that overwhelms me and threatens to strip every last lick of energy from me. Even as the eyes of every man fall upon us. In spite of the battle that’s just been fought. I run towards Brando, my injured leg dragging behind me. I almost knock him over withthe strength I throw at him, but he folds me in his strong arms, despite the curse that falls from his lips. I draw back enough to look at his face and notice the wince on his face, before my eyes fall to his shoulder, where a blood stain blooms through his shirt.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, and my hand goes to his shoulder to stem the blood as he rolls his eyes and floats to the ground like a feather.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,”the doctor says.

Brando sits in a corner of the dimly lit room, his beautiful face drawn and pale. His shirt is off, shoulder heavily bandaged, the blood still seeping through the cloth despite the wrapping. He’s holding back a grimace, but I can see the pain in his eyes. His eyes are unfocused, distant, as if the wound isn't the only thing hurting him. He’s so near, yet so very far away.

“No drugs,” Brando says, as the nurse approaches him, preparing a syringe.

“You’ll need something for the pain,” the nurse says, blushing as her face turns red.

Brando’s hard eyes are on me as he ignores her. Ignores the doctor. He doesn’t see anyone else in the room as an invisible thread links between only he and I.

“I have everything I need,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving mine. His words are weighted with meaning, weaving through me like an adrenaline rush I don’t see coming. “Everyone out!”

“Brando…”

Brando cuts Scar off with a look. His brother purses his lips before he nods toward the doctor, following everyone out untilit’s just me and Brando in the room. The door shuts with a click and a heavy silence falls upon us.

“Come here.”

His voice is hoarse, a sacred plea drowning in a sea of desperation. I push off the wall and walk toward him, stopping only steps away from him. He looks up at me, his denim eyes navy as they swim with an unfathomable darkness. He reaches out and pulls me to him, until his arms wrap around my waist, his face planted against my stomach. He inhales, breathes out the burden he’s been carrying, pressing into me as if I am the anchor in his turbulent world. His body trembles, not just from pain, but from something deeper, something tethered to his soul.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” My voice is barely above a whisper, my fingers threading through his dark hair, trying to soothe the beast of burden he carries on his shoulders.

Brando lifts his head, his gaze locking with mine. “That was never an option,” he says. “I came for you to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“I’m glad you came. Not glad you got shot,” I look pointedly at his bandaged shoulder “but glad you saved me from that maniac.”

“That maniac’s days are numbered,” he hisses between gritted teeth. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. “I don't know if I can be what you need me to be,” he confesses, the words heavy with unspoken fears.

“Who says I need you to be anything, Brando?” I press a soft kiss to his forehead. “You couldn’t be more perfect just the way you are, even if you tried.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find your sisters.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re going to stop trying,” I remind him. And that’s the most important thing; I know that Brando is with me and will do everything he can to locate my sisters. It was alwaysFrank’s intention to make me suffer through their absence and ensure I’d never find them. He wanted to break me before he threw my bones at my sister’s feet to torture them with the knowledge that I was dead and broken. He’s crazy like that.

“Tell me you won’t do anything crazy like that again, Mia. I need to know that you won’t put me through that again. And if you do, you need to know that I will drag you back, even if you’re kicking and screaming.”

These men are warriors—strong,unyielding—but right now, they’re just men, vulnerable and broken. The thought twists something inside of me as I look from Brando to Rafi, then back again.

But it’s not just the sight of their pain that churns my stomach. It’s the knowledge of what could have happened, what nearly did happen. The chaos of the fight, the way they nearly didn’t make it out. If it hadn’t been for the big man, who had dragged them out by force with only minutes to spare before one side of Frank’s house collapsed in a mound of rubble.

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