Page 10 of Dirty Eoin

Both probably.

The room is subdued. Morose even.

“And what about this other fella?” Da’s frown deepens.

I can tell he’s been affected by this. At almost seventy, his hair can’t get any whiter, but I’m sure there are a few more lines added to his face since this all kicked off. Regardless of how he and Ma feel about Jaine, as a key member of our alliance, Ace was an extension of our Duster family. At this stage, it’s not known if this was a retaliation attack, if proximity to the Nevada situation and him acting as mediator earned him a bullet with his name on, or if it was something else entirely.

The latter would open up a whole new can of worms. Depending on the reason behind his murder, this could well see the start of a targeted killing spree, and the initial concern is who will be next and where will it end.

I exhale slowly. “Lucifer is still in the ICU. Tyler Grayson is adamant he willingly took a bullet for Ace.”

“A noble act. But why would he do such a thing?”

“No one knows at this stage.”

“And his odds?”

“He’s expected to make a complete recovery. A shot to the shoulder. It went clean through.”

“Lucky fella.”

“Extremely so.”

The silence thereafter is deafening, each of us lost in our own thoughts. My eyes drift around the ostentatious room that screams money. How vulgar it is. How pretentious.

And in the grand scheme of things, on days like today, how meaningless.

Paddy, Da, and I are sitting here in the finest tailored suits money can buy like we’re royalty. I guess in this fucked-up world of ours, we are.

But moments like this? They make you reflect. They put things into perspective.

We’re all just human, regardless of our wealth, status, and power. Just flesh and blood.

One moment here, the next moment gone. How many virtual guns are pointed at our heads right now? How many times a day do our ears burn as our enemies plot our demise?

And when will it be a real weapon that we’re staring down the loaded barrel of like Ace did when it was his time? When will my own life flash in front of my eyes as I take my last breath?

Life is short. Ours even more so.

I glance at Paddy. My eyes then stop, and I really take him in. The youngest of us all and arguably the best-looking with his cheeky grin, coal-black hair, and smiling blue eyes. But appearances can be deceptive. It’s definitely true in his case because if you scratch the shiny surface and look beneath, you’ll see my brother’s tired of living. That he’s almost given up. That he’s mentally and emotionally exhausted at trying to pretend to be something he’s not and never will be again.

Happy.

The life and soul have been sucked out of him, reducing him to a shell of the once happy-go-lucky boy he used to be. His outward exterior these days is all an act. And he’s an actor. His life is his own personal shitshow. A starring role he has no choice but to play on repeat.

He has to grin and bear it, and we’re responsible for that.

An arranged marriage was the best course of action for him when we considered all the facts known to us at the time. When no one was aware of Jaine’s existence.

What she doesn’t realize is that Paddy was becoming a liability. With his charm and good looks, women simply fell at his feet as he continued to play the field, and in turn, he took full advantage of what was on offer, not caring if they were married or not.

The Dusters had to put an end to the problem or someone else may have.

Permanently.

That aside, it’s true that the final decision was reached based on what would be the most advantageous move for the Dusters to increase our power, ranking, wealth, and status.

Paddy was a pawn, and he’s now paying the price, as is Jaine.

---