Page 32 of Brando

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, and the look he gives me is one of despair and anguish. “I have my big girl pants onmeans she has her gun with her. And I don’t want to think what will happen when she decides to use that gun.”

Mia can use a gun.She can handle a weapon with her eyes closed and her hands tied. I learnt this about her very early on after we met. That could have been one of the reasons I gravitated towards her; the fact that she liked to do all the things I liked to do. That she understood my world and the family I came from and she never judged me for that, even while she mistakenly believed, all those years ago, that her own father was a travelling salesman. She was so close to me in mindset, it was hard to believe that we were not cut from the same cloth.

So I don’t understand what Mason is so concerned about; if she’s taken the gun he supplied her with, that means she’s expecting trouble. She understands the sort of man that Falcone is, and she won’t hesitate to use the gun if the need arises. Which gives me some measure of peace knowing that she has the means to defend herself, but that doesn’t mean I’m not angry at her.

When he tells me his concerns, I suddenly understand his point, although I don’t think it’s necessarily a valid one. Although Mia knows how to handle the gun, his reservation is that she doesn’t get a chance to use it before Frank finds it on her and deems this a betrayal. He may use the gun on her before she even has a chance to defend herself.

“Get up,” I say finally, my words more a seething hiss than a command. “We’re not going to sit around and wait for that to happen.”

I grab my coat and watch as he stands to his full height. There’s a drop in his shoulders, and I’ve never seen crazy Mason Ironside look so defeated.

“Make the calls you need to,” I tell him. “I’m going to make a few of my own. We need to find Falcone.”

Mia is at the forefront of my mind as I dial number after number, putting the wheels in motion. One way or another, I am going to find her, and I’m going to bring her home. Then I am going to roast Falcone like a spit roast and feed him to the wild dogs that roam the forest behind our country cabin.

I don’t know why she would willfully deliver herself into the hands of evil, especially knowing that Falcone is not one to be trusted and could be toying with her. For all we know, and I hate to say it, but her sisters could already be dead, because that’s the sort of man he is. But I had promised Mia that I would protect her, keep her safe, and yet here I was, wallowing in my own self-pity knowing that she’s gone. The thought twists in my gut like a knife, and despair settles in alongside my rage.

I would not let the devil have her again. Not without a fight.

17

BRANDO

The side door of the warehouse splinters under the force of my boot—a violent announcement of my arrival. Nothing can mask the anger coursing through me as I surge into the Maltese fortress, each step a silent promise of retribution.

“Where is she?” My question is more a feral growl than actual words, carrying the weight of a raging storm.

The guards rush towards me, but sheer determination knocks them over, one by one. They never saw it coming, giving me the advantage as I sway on my feet, fists flying in all directions. The sound of knuckles cracking against jawbones fills the air as bodies crumble under the weight of my relentless onslaught.

The last man falls heavily to the ground, a dull thud marking his defeat. I stand over him, chest heaving, the taste of adrenaline sharp in my mouth. My hands, bloodied and bruised, barely feel the pain—there's too much rage boiling inside me.

Meanwhile, Mason is tearing through anyone who gets in his way with his bare hands. I catch a glimpse of his bared teeth as he prepares to rip into a man's ear. He may be a teddy bearwhen it comes to his nieces, but right now he is a ferocious beast determined to protect them.

“Tell me!” I roar at no one in particular as more bodies fall to the ground, unable to withstand my wrath. My anger has always been my strongest weapon. Six men lay moaning on the ground, too injured and shocked to give me what I want.

Chaos follows in my wake as I continue to unleash my unchecked fury. Furniture is overturned and papers scatter through the air like confetti. Glass shatters and reflects pieces of my broken soul scattered throughout the room. Tension hangs thick in the air, fueled by my relentless drive to find Mia.

“Where is the girl?” My question echoes through the cavernous space, met only with the sound of my own heavy breathing. Mason stands nearby, blood coating his mouth. A severed ear lies on the ground next to him, its owner shrieking in agony and clutching their mutilated flesh. A painting crashes to the ground, adding to the chaos as Mason unleashes more of his anger. His chest rises and falls rapidly, caught between grief and the fire that fuels him.

“Speak, or I swear—” I lift one of the more conscious men and slam him against the wall before finishing my threat. I pause for a moment, hand pressed against the cold wall, trying to steady myself against the memories threatening to consume me. My emotions are like a tempest, raging within me and threatening to destroy everything in their path.

My knuckles are white from gripping the man's collar so tightly. The air is heavy with dust and defiance, the smell of fear clinging to every surface like a desperate plea. I can feel my chest heaving with each breath, a silent battle cry pushing me forward in search of the elusive truth. I pull my arm back and get ready to plant my fist in his face.

“Enough!”

My mind is consumed with rage and desperation, but Scar's voice cuts through the haze, bringing me back to reality. He shouldn't be here; he should be with his newborn daughter and wife, but instead, he stands in front of me, surveying the chaos I've caused. His eyes have seen too much violence to easily forgive my actions. Why did he come here? I ask myself, feeling guilty for pulling him away from his family.

“Brando,” Scar says again, tugging at my anger and pulling me back from the edge.

I release my grip on the man in front of me, watching as he crumples to the ground gasping for breath. Turning to face Scar, I feel the storm within me starting to quiet down, but it simmers dangerously just below the surface. Scar's unwavering gaze meets mine and I can see the anger etched into his features. Years of seeking vengeance have taken their toll on his once youthful face. But he's also the voice of reason amongst us when one of us goes too far.

“What are you doing here?” I finally acknowledge his presence in the midst of all this chaos.

“You let him do this?” Scar's furious eyes shift towards Mason who stands ready to continue unleashing destruction.

More men start to pour into the room behind Scar, but I don't take notice of them. My focus is solely on my brother. When Scar walks into a room, even the dust parts for him.

He gracefully steps over a fallen chair as he approaches me. After squeezing my shoulder and calming my anger with just that small gesture, he leans in close to whisper something in my ear, creating a barrier between us and the rest of the room.

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