Page 40 of When Sinners Rise
The bright light of the Texan sun disappears instantly, and I’m plunged into the usual dimly lit darkness this family seems to thrive in. Can’t say I mind it myself, but the sounds start up just as quick. Carmen’s shouting orders around somewhere, and, low and behold, there’s the acrid smell of smoke coming from the corridors the further in I go. It’s more of our business getting branded up, no doubt. Which means Kai’s here as well.
I keep moving, searching for Dante and Miri. I don’t find him, but I do eventually find her in one of the private cells deep in. She looks up at me from her bench when I get in front of her.There’s little emotion on her face. In fact, it looks like it has for the whole fucking journey. It’s like she’s stonewalling everything and everyone, closing down so she’s got enough energy to get this done and see her sister. I know the feeling. Trouble is, the cell she’s in is the same one Naja was in when I left. I’m not sure what that means yet, but I’m guessing it’s not gonna give Miri the outcome she was hoping for.
“Where’s Naja?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t know.”
“You said I’d see her.”
“I didn’t say shit.”
She frowns and looks at the floor. “He did, though. Your brother. He showed me the video. Said if I behaved, I’d get to see her again.”
“And you trusted that?” I snort, partly disgusted at this whole damn situation. “Stupid girl. There’s nothing about a Cortez worth trusting. You have to mean something to them for trust to work. You don’t mean anything.” Not one damn thing other than profit and some low-lying vengeance that Abel can’t get past. I get it. I do. I even understand his need for finality. I’m not him, though. I’m not any of them. “You hungry?” She doesn’t answer; she just sits there looking at me. “Thirsty?” Still nothing. I look back along the corridor at the sound of some girl screaming under Kai’s work and nod to myself. This is home. Life. Whatever I was thinking about letting her go when we were over there in London, just lost its chance at reality. She’s nothing now. Just another girl in another building in another long line of profit.
“Yeah, yeah.” I look at Mariana walking towards me with the phone to her ear. “His phone is dead, Abel. I’ll get him back to you now.” I frown and glance back at Miri. “Shaw,” Mariana snarls quietly. I turn to her again. She nods at the phone while covering it. “You need to get your ass to him. Now. He’s pissed ashell. I’ve told him your phone’s dead.” She uncovers the phone. “Yeah, I’m still here. Just trying to find him.”Go, she mouths at me as she holds her keys out to me again.
Sighing, I take the keys from her and walk back out the way I came. Dante’s sitting in the main room as I pass through it, talking to someone on his phone as a girl brings him a drink. He downs it and looks over at me. No smile. No acknowledgement at all. He just keeps speaking quietly and staring me down until he turns away and shields whatever conversation he’s having.
I snort and head outside. Heneedsme? He doesn’t need me. None of them need me. I’m just some dick who does as he’s told, aren’t I? And now I guess I’m about to go get my ass handed to me for thinking again. Sounds like a fuck load of fun.
The journey over to the main house passes too quickly, and before I know it, I’m pulling into the drive. I kill the engine and sit a while, staring at the manicured lawns and palms to try calming down. I don’t even know why I’m so pissed inside this time around. None of this is unusual. Treat Shaw like crap, have a go, make sure he understands his place. It’s all average. The same, day in, day out.
Three sharp knocks hit the side of the door, bringing me out of my stare. I look up and find Lexi standing there. She tilts her head and waits for me to get out, which I do, because who’d want to get on the wrong side of her when she’s got Abel on a fucking leash.
“Hello, Shaw.”
“Hey.”
“He’s in the kitchen. I would try for apologetic.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I walk towards the house and up the steps. Apologetic won’t work. I know that. I knew it the second I stopped answering his calls. Any form of going against him, or keeping him in the dark, just puts another notch on his fuck-you belt. It makes me wonder, as I wander through the main hall,why I did it in the first place. What was I gonna do back there in London, let her run and then, what? Disappear? Not come back? Not likely. No, I’d have still come back, knowing all too well that I’d get a beating for having my own mind. I’m loyal like that. Fucking stupid.
Irritated and confused with myself, I walk into the kitchen and find him at the small table in the corner. He looks up from his food, glares, and then goes back to eating.
“Sit.” I stay standing. “Goddamn you, Shaw. I’m gonna wrap this table around your head in a minute if you don’t sit your ass down.” He forks some meat into his mouth and keeps looking at me. My fists tighten, my body tensing with them. I don’t know why, but now I’m not feeling the need to be put in my place about having a fucking opinion.
He stands, throws his napkin on the table, and walks around it to get in front of me. “You know, I didn’t think we’d have to have this conversation, but you look about ready for it.”
I scowl and back up half a step unconsciously. I’m more pissed about that than him summoning me like some drug runner, so I step up again.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Didn’t feel like it.” He shoves me so quick I trip over my own feet. I can still feel the goddamn imprint of both palms on my chest when I right myself again. “Still don’t feel like it.”
“You wanna try some deference instead?” he says, calm as you like. “Last warning.”
“Fuck you, Abel. I don't have to bow and scrape constantly. I’ve got my own mind.” Some smile snarls on his face, like I just gave him permission to bring anything at me. I. Don’t. Care.
I keep scowling, unsure what I’m doing this for but knowing, in my bones, it needs fucking doing. I’m done, and the last time we did this, I was a damn sight smaller. He comes atme so hard I buckle at the pressure of his hit to my guts. My hand goes to the floor to push me upright again, breath heaving in from the impact. Another hit comes at my jaw instantly. It sends me off balance, but well-trained instincts fire enough anger that I manage to get three punches thrown at him and landing. He grunts and falls a step away from me, enough so that I rally everything I’ve got to make my point felt. It isn’t enough – nowhere near enough – no matter how much I try, and before long, I’m on the ground with his knee pressed against my throat.
I look up, dazed, and see his face looking down on me. There’s no playtime featuring on it. He’s like that guy I first met when he came out of prison, all evil and nothing but hatred. I try catching a breath under the feel of his knee pushing down on me, but I can’t pull any air in. He forces down harder, bringing his face closer until we’re inches from each other, and I’m gasping.
Wrangling him with my hands and twisting my body, I try everything I’ve got to get out from under him. Nothing works. I’m suffocating beneath my own fucking brother – dying. Even in my own head, that’s a metaphor worth giving credence to. So, I give up and let my hands fall to the side, surrendering. Why not? Not like anything’s changing any time soon. This fight just proved it.
The pressure doesn’t ease, though.
In fact, he forces it harder again.
