The Four Brothers ~ Completed

Capítulo Dez: O Vilão

The whole 'Ukrainians are the bad mafia group in this story' didn't age well. When I start writing bad things about the Ukrainian mafia, it in no way implies my opinions. I figured that was obvious, but figured I might as well put it there anyway.

Happy reading!

Tobias's POV:

The night had fallen into chaos faster than I thought it would. And far more violently than I anticipated. Thankfully, unlike everyone else in the room, I'd had a backup plan in place the moment I'd decided Gemma would be allowed to attend alongside my brothers and I.

Unfortunately, that backup plan wound up dead due to their own incompetence. Well, most of them, anyway.

"Please, I'm sorry!" The man, on all fours at my feet, pleaded as he shook in fear. Sinclair scoffed out something in Arabic that I didn't catch. I cocked my head at the man. The man who'd failed to keep my sister safe. The man who'd lost his dignity, his friends, and was about to lose his life. All in one night. But his pain, his fear, was nothing compared to my own.

I looked around the room. Bodies were thrown into haphazard piles according to their allegiance. My family's pile was growing steadily bigger and I was about to add another body, considering how miserably this man had failed at his one job.

Mercy was not a word I was accustomed to heeding. Perhaps if my sister was still in this building, perhaps if I still knew where she was, I would grant him life. But I was without my little sister. And he was without mercy. Seemed an even trade-off to me.

"Sorry does nothing." I snarled, bringing my pistol up momentarily and squeezing the trigger. The familiar jump of the gun and the ringing that came with gunfire were natural, easily recognizable to someone who'd been doing this for years.

The man slumped down immediately, the bullet having landed between his eyes. I flicked the wrist of my empty hand, my left hand, and two of my men came to clean up with filth. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking to make sure I hadn't missed any kind of ransom call.

Sinclair was nursing a glass of whiskey. I didn't see the point in drinking at this moment in time.

There was a slight shift in the air behind me and I turned, knowing the only person who could get that close to me without alerting me was my youngest brother. Damian was, for once, completely serious. He was fiddling with his knife, flipping it over and under his knuckles at a dizzying speed.

"There's no one left for me to kill." Damian growled, rolling his shoulders. My gaze lingered on the specks of blood on his cheek, slowly soaking into the collar of his shirt, but I only arched an eyebrow.

"What did you learn?" I asked. Damian prowled forward, reminding me very much of a caged tiger. He sat down on one of the barstools, snagging a still intact bottle of vodka. He took a swig, his nose twitching slightly but other than that he made no other expression.

"They ambushed her. My guess is they knocked her unconscious because there was no sign of a struggle. There was at least six of them. One set of tracks got deeper, meaning one of them carried her towards the van they were using. They got onto the road and I lost their tracks." Damian explained, taking another swallow of vodka.

Damian was a hit-man. Part of that job was being able to find his target. Normally he thought of it as a fun game of chase, or even tag, but this wasn't a game. Of course, when our Gemma was returned, the game would start.

Zion stormed into the room, laptop held in both hands. A few men scampered out of his way, bowing their heads. As soon as the firefight broke out, it took mere seconds for everyone around us to realize that the so called Dalton Quinn was, in fact, the famed and mysterious Zion Perigoso. I imagine it would be the talk of the town until news of Gemma's kidnapping got out.

"What did you find?" I asked. Zion slammed his computer down on the counter, which didn't bode well. Zion treated that computer like it was his child. I think the only thing he cherished more in the world was Gemma. Not that she was a thing, but still.

"Absolutely nothing. They're off the grid. I hacked all the traffic cameras and my guess is they used backroads where traffic cameras haven't been installed yet. Fucking city budgets." Zion sneered down at his laptop like it personally offended him. My jaw clenched as I tried to keep from snapping.

My brothers and I were barely holding it together. Rage boiled in our veins, liquid magma flowing just below the surface of a volcano. I couldn't bring myself to pity the person I would soon destroy whenever I erupted.

"So what you're telling me is that our little sister has been taken by an unknown group to an unknown location to do unknown things? What is known?" I kept my voice quiet so as not to yell. It was either be very quiet at the moment or be very loud. And if I was very loud, someone else was going to die and I didn't want to kill any of the men currently cleaning up the bodies of the men I'd already killed.

"Don't bullshit yourself, Tobias. We know exactly who took her." Sinclair snapped, turning in his seat to face me. I curled my fingers into fists, attempting to keep my temper in check. I took a deep breath and then looked him in the eyes.

"And who, pray tell, took her?" I asked through clenched teeth. My back molars felt as if they would crack with the pressure I was putting on them. Sinclair looked at me like I was an idiot before tipping back the rest of his whiskey and pouring another rather full glass.

"Ukrainians." He grumbled over the rim of his glass. My spine straightened as I thought it over.

It wasn't impossible. The Ukrainians had been up my ass for ages, especially when I started dealing with the South Africans. They were lacking in manpower though, and a job like this didn't get pulled off without a surplus of soldiers. I tilted my head to the side as I ran over possible allies.

The Ukrainians were terrible allies. They didn't have men, didn't have money, and had very little respect.

"They would need help. More help than any family I know would give." I said after a moment of deliberation. Damian straightened in his seat, eyes flicking back and forth like he was reading something in the air. It was what he did when struck by a sudden, oftentimes genius thought.

"What if it wasn't a family? What if it was a cartel?" He asked, looking up from the countertop.

Fuck.