Page 404 of Savage Bosses

Bryceson

T

he next time he awoke, it was to the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the warehouse. The sound pulled Bryceson from the depths of his pain-induced haze. The face of a familiar man appeared before him when he blinked his eyes open. This was one of the men Marlo had pointed out to him when they’d been going over the original plan.

Bryce couldn’t recall his name, but he remembered that he was an informant Marlo had placed in the Grecco organization years ago. It was the informant who had tipped off his father about the Grecco patriarch's whereabouts. The man’s gaze darted around nervously as he approached Bryce.

"Fuck, Bryce," the informant whispered, wincing at the sight of Bryceson’s battered body. "I don't have much time. Your father's men are on their way here."

"About damn time," Bryceson mumbled, tasting blood with every word.

"Listen closely, kid," the informant urged, glancing over his shoulder. "The Cattaneos are ready to get you out of here, but it's gonna get ugly. Real ugly."

Bryceson clenched his jaw, ignoring the searing pain in his shattered ribs. "I figured as much," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. Inhaling was agony. Exhaling was even worse.

"I can’t untie you. But when the door bursts open, I want you to fall back in your chair to avoid being hit. I’ll tell Marlo where you’re located and try to keep them from firing in your direction," the informant said, giving him a quick nod before leaving.

The informant must not realize that bullets don’t have a name. Bryce tried to keep his eyes open, but he was fighting a losing battle. Darkness reclaimed him, taking him to a place where there was no pain.

When he awoke again, the warehouse was alive with gunfire and screams. Panic surged through him, and he fought against the ropes binding him to the chair, desperate to break free. His father's voice rang out above the chaos, calling his name.

"Bryceson, get down,” Patrick roared.

Bryce tried to lean back in his seat. The seat didn’t budge. He just didn’t have the strength to push it backward. His body was too weak and broken. He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and tried again. There was no use. He didn’t have the strength. His vision swam, and he felt himself slipping under once more.

As the sounds of battle began to fade, Bryceson made a silent vow. No matter what it took, he would leave this life behind. He would find Tatianna and make a new start, far from the bloodshed and betrayal that had marked his existence for too long. He didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t want to walk in his father’s shadow.

He wanted to walk in the light. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be a husband and a father. He wanted to attend PTA meetings and shit with his kids. He wanted a normal, quiet life with the woman he loved. And he would make that happen… if he survived his father’s latest fuck up.

Bryceson's eyelids fluttered open, revealing the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. Was he back home in America? The soft whirr of the ceiling fan above him and the smell of the lemon-scented furniture polish his mother insisted the maids use greeted him. He blinked a few times in confusion. When and how had he gotten back home? Bryceson tried to sit up.

"Wha-" he started but stopped, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his body.

"Shh, lie still," his mother's gentle voice chided from beside him. She dabbed a cold cloth on his forehead, her eyes filled with worry.

"Mom," he croaked, struggling to sit up. "I’m home?"

"Yes. And stay put," she insisted, pressing her hand against his chest to keep him down." You need to rest. Your poor body is so battered." Tears spilled down his mother’s cheeks. “I sent you away from here in one piece. How could he bring you back like this?” His mother sobbed.

Bryceson didn’t have to ask whohewas. He knew she was referring to his father.

“I’m not talking to him until you’re fully healed,” his mother said as tears poured down her cheeks.

“You always go on a talking strike,” Bryce whispered.

“This time, I mean it. Fuck him,” his mother cursed, something she rarely did. Another sob escaped her. It broke his heart to see his mother like this. Bryceson forced a smile onto his face.

“I’m okay, mom.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t walk or get out of bed at all. You can’t sit up because of the back brace. Your ribs are shattered. Your legs are broken. You lost three teeth…” His mother burst into tears and lowered her head to the bed.

Her words caused tears to fill his eyes. So, he was that bad off, huh? Oh, no! Had Tatianna seen him like this?

“Ma, has Tati been here?”

His mother’s sobs let up, but she didn’t raise her head.

“Ma… Ma… Has Tati been here?”

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