Your ours and we won't let you escape (boyxboy)

Chapter 11

I will try to be regular with this story, life has been a little of a mess with me. I'm starting a new school and its different to what I'm used to. I'm half scared and half excited. Anyway enough about me. I have already prepared to where this story is going and I swear I will fix all my mistakes and even with my other story. Sorry for talking too much. Enjoy the chapter.

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Chapter 11
BANG!

I ran. I did not care for the useless men struggling to run with me, nor did I care what happened to their lives if they failed to keep up. I did not know who. Someone betrayed us. Someone close on the inside that knew too many things and ran our own men against us. I thought it was one of my father's right hand men and had them watched closely before I stepped in. None of them appeared suspicious and were doing their jobs according. All I knew was I was racing to the where the bang came from. I knew a gun was set off. I ran up the stairs of our estate. I knew the enemy was someone on the inside if they could easily step onto our estate and come and go as they pleased. My men was struggling to keep up as the obstacles of the traitorous bastards kept stepping in our way and trying to kill me. I shot whoever was in my way, friend or foe, I did not care. My key priority was to make it. I knew running down the hallways where I was going. I hoped, no, prayed that the whoever was shot was the enemy. Please.

My men quickly were taking care of the traitors that deserved a thousand deaths.

I finally caught sight of the double oak doors, my target.

I ran faster and hoped I made it in time. I could hear shots going off on all side of the mansion, I once called home. It was now a battlefield. I panted and opened the heavy doors with whatever energy left I could muster.

"Brother, I'm glad you made it in time."

My worse nightmare had become true.

My younger brother sat on my father's desk playfully like a small child waiting for his father to come home like he used to. Yet, father was already home. He was lying down on the floor, on his back with a bullet wound though the side of his stomach with the blood running down through his blouse and ruining the Persian carpet he loved. I watched him further and watched as he was still breathing. I felt relief yet I looked at my brother. He sat effortless and comfortably on my father's desk like our father was not fighting for his life at his feet. My brother was the one who betrayed us. He was smiling happily and I knew the only reason he did not kill my father was because he wanted to my reaction, my pain. I stared at those familiar blue eyes that was a exact replica of my own. Yet, they were always different from my own. They were always filled with a shine and glow of youth and happiness, they were not cold like my own. I imagined those innocent blue eyes that used to beg me to play or help him with his homework even if he had his own private tutors. My beloved younger brother who played my own child. My prefect perfection that I raised not to have the same cold eyes as me.

He smiled and watched me as he held his gun playfully. I could tell he was ready anytime for me to pull my gun out and he shoot me before I even had the chance to pull the trigger. I taught him like that. I taught him hold to a gun. I taught him how to kill. Yet, I taught him how not to kill.

"Why?" I struggled to say.Emotions I had left and abandoned long ago were coming back and were burning like a flame to reach out. Pain. A feeling I had forgot and let behind.

My father's body did not matter to me as much as that question.

Why Abram?"

I wished what I was seeing was a nightmare and I wake up to a normal day of breakfast with my brother and father while forgetting this nightmare ever existed.