Page 39 of Dark Obsession

I can feel the darkness settle in deeper as I talk, each word unearthing memories I’ve spent years trying to forget. But I keep going. They need to hear it.

“I wasn’t satisfied with just killing the men who slaughtered my family. I wanted to end it all, make a statement. So I decided to hit their biggest drug den, send a message that would never be forgotten.”

I pause as the image of that night flashes before my eyes like a bad horror movie.

“But no matter how deep I dug, I could never get the name of the kingpin, the man they all called ‘Mr. M.’ It didn’t matter, though. Whoever he was, he was going to pay. He was going to suffer.”

I can feel the tension in the room shift, the brothers leaning in as they eagerly await the rest.

“The night of the attack, I waited until their busiest time, when the place was crawling with guards and drug runners. I set the stage with an explosion, blowing up one of the cars outside to draw them out. As they rushed toward the car, I picked them off one by one. Silent, calculated. It was like a game to me.”

My fists clench at the memory of the adrenaline, the rage, the satisfaction of watching them fall.

“Once the guards were down, I went inside. Ready to finish the job.”

The memories tighten around me like a noose, and I force myself to keep going. It’s been years, but that night is burned into me—literally.

“I wasn’t supposed to get caught in it,” I say, my voice rougher now, the bitterness evident. “My plan was to wreck the place, not set the whole damn thing on fire. But when the guard fired wide, hitting those chemicals, the blaze caught faster than I expected. Too fast.”

I pause, my fingers flexing as the memory of that heat, that searing pain, floods back.

"The fire spread quickly, and before I could even get out of the main room, the flames had reached me. I didn’t see it coming until it was too late. The heat was unreal. My clothes caught, and for a moment, all I could feel was fire—on my arm, my back, my chest. I tried to keep moving, but it burned through me like a wave of acid. The pain was...”

I trail off, glancing at the brothers. They all know what’s under my shirt, but they’ve never asked how or why.

“That’s how I got the scars. My body charred, the fire eating through me while the rest of the lab blew up. Chemicals, glass, bodies—everything went to hell. It was total mayhem. I barely got out alive.”

I let the silence sit for a moment, the weight of my words hung heavily in the air.

“When I made it outside, I saw one of the guards, his face pale, shouting into his phone. I couldn’t hear much, but I caught two words.Las hijas. Las hijas.The daughters.”

I grind my teeth, the realization hitting just as hard now as it did then.

"That was when I knew something had gone horribly wrong."

My skin tingles with phantom pain, the scars beneath my clothes seeming to burn all over again.

“After the fire, I was half-dead, burned, and stumbling aimlessly through the streets. Through a contact, I managed to find a doctor who treated people who can’t go to a regular hospital.”

I can still see the sterile, dimly lit room where the doctor patched me up, the smell of antiseptic mingling with the stench of burned flesh. He didn’t ask questions. He simply worked in silence, fixing me.

“He treated my burns, kept me hidden while I recovered,” I say, dragging a hand across my jaw. “But that wasn’t the end of it. He gave me more than just medical care; he gave me vital information.”

I pause, trying to find the words to describe what he told me.

“The fire killed innocent women. Three of them. Daughters of Oscar Molina, the same bastard who killed my parents and siblings. I didn’t know they were in the building that night.”

There is dead silence in the room as the brothers stare at me, letting the truth sink in.

“Molina survived. He wasn’t there, but he’s been hunting me ever since. He died a few years ago, but his organization has taken up his cause. And you know the rest.”

I turn to face them fully. “I recovered. Rejoined the family. And now, Molina’s crew has come to Chicago, looking for revenge.”

That’s when I see it in their eyes—understanding. Finally.

The brothers sit back, quietly processing everything I just laid out for them. I wait patiently, giving them time to organize their thoughts, formulate their responses.

Luk is the first to break the silence, his voice grim. “If there was any doubt that we’re about to be in the middle of a war, your story just settled it.”

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