Chapter 220: The Serpent’s Hell

Present Day

ZADE

My dress shirt was smudged with blood, my hands covered in it too.

Blood on my hands wasn’t new. God knew how much of it I’d got my hands dirty with. But this... this was one blood I never imagined I’d be smeared in.

I can’t stop my body from twitching every two seconds, like my blood vessels are gonna burst, followed by the throbbing ache from the back of my skull.

My eyes burned too; the pulse around my temples hadn’t seized either. I cracked my knuckles to ease the tension straining my hands, but it did nothing to help.

I raked my bloody hand through my hair and leaned back against the wall, the white lights blinding my eyes. I blinked away from it, leaning over with my elbows on my knees, and then ducked my head.

I heard Elliot’s quick footsteps as he sprinted into the lobby.

We didn’t exchange a word for a moment before he shifted his eyes to the red light glowing above the operating-room doors, signalling that surgery was in progress.

It took seconds for his face to shift from despair to rage. Elliot has never had the guts to bear any hostile emotions towards me, but today he did.

"Is there something you wanna say to me, little brother?" I rose, but he was quick to grab me by the collar, seething at me with a tenfold rage.

"You never should have let her go through with this!" His fist squeezed tightly until I could hear my shirt rip. "You always toss her in the line of fire. She’s your fucking wife, for fucks sake. Have some fucking conscience for once!"

He released me, and I balanced myself almost immediately. He pointed at me, eyes screaming resentment.

"This is all on you."

Yes, it was... and I don’t argue with him. Everything that happened tonight was all on me. I should have taken her out of that building after the hitman attacked her.

"You made your point," I said.

"Your battles are yours to face, not hers."

"This was just as much her battle. You and I both know that."

He shook his head, disagreeing. "You never should have let her fight it alone—"

"She wasn’t alone!" I snapped. "I was gonna pull her out the moment everything went to shit."

I hadn’t realized my fist had driven into the wall until I felt the fresh coat of blood dripping down my hand.

"You know what...? Blame me because this is on me and my fault."

Elliot scoffed. "That’s not gonna change the fact that she’s on that table fighting for her life."

Yes, it won’t. I have been living with that torturous reality ever since I brought my wife through those doors, carrying her limp body in my arms.

I watched as she was wheeled away on the stretcher with a team of doctors and nurses circling her.

They said nothing. Gave me nothing to aid my crumbling sanity.

I’ve been sitting on this fucking chair for slow, torturous hours that felt like days. All I’ve been thinking about was how I didn’t get to her on time.

We heard footsteps. Dante and Luca came into view.

"We got news," Dante said.

"Save it." I pinned my eyes on the door, running my fingers through my hair, losing count of how many times I’ve done that.

The door opened, and the doctor was out, removing the surgical mask. We crowded him in less than a second, and we didn’t need to bombard him with questions.

He looked around us briefly, his throat bobbing like he was about to tell us something devastating.

I almost grabbed him by the throat if he kept us in suspense any longer, but he sensed how close I was to choking the life outta him and his mouth moved.

"We did everything we could..."

~☆~

I’ve been placed in countless positions throughout my life... more than I cared to remember. And yet, when I look back, there was so little I can actually recall.

Amongst them, there have been three that scarred me. The first was when reality shattered. The death of my parents and grandparents.

It was at a high-society event, an event gone wrong, and I was the only survivor because I got sick from a stomachache and had to leave for another room. I’d asked my mother to stay with me; she did, but she had to leave me for a while.

That was the last time I saw her.

Then there was smoke and screams. I tried to get to them, but I couldn’t, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed, being told of the tragic fire.

It wasn’t a tragic fire as the news and the rest of the citizens of Hightower City believed. It was the handiwork of one of my father’s arch enemies. It was a shootout, but they covered their tracks by setting the place on fire.

I made my first act as Don by getting revenge. There were no morals involved. I was just a kid who wanted his parents’ enemies to burn.

The second was Caleb’s accident, which left him crippled. He had once gone off with the wrong crowd and raced cars just to get that adrenaline hit. It didn’t end well.

The third...

I tipped my head back as I downed the last of the whiskey, the ice cube chiming. I took hold of the decanter and filled the tumbler to the brim, but it spilled over as I lost my train of thought.

"Don..." Luca walked into my office cautiously.

He had always been the light among us. I had four brothers, but he was the only one who could either make worse or better of a situation.

But not today. Not for a long while now.

I finished the glass of whiskey, then tossed the tumbler across the room.

I pushed to my feet and led the way. I went down to the wine cellar. It smelled of oak and wood, and with a simple turn toward the other room that smelled less of aged wine but more of piss and shit, sat Gabriel strapped to a chair.

He was still in his hospital gown that was barely recognizable because of the blood smeared all over. He dragged every single pathetic breath, as though each one was a desperate plea.

Dante set his tools down, then took off his black leather blood-stained apron. He had done the honors because Christ knows if I got my hands on Gabriel, he would stop breathing, permanently.

"He doesn’t know shit about the Benefactor," Dante said.

The Benefactor. A single name that drilled into my skull, awakening that crushing sensation on the back of my neck that urged me to rub the spot for relief.

But I found none.

"That’s unlike you, Gabriel," I said, too low and calm. "Wasn’t it the first thing we learned growing up to always know who we’re doing business with? That way, when something goes wrong, we know exactly who to hold accountable."

"I-I-I have never met him, I swear. J-Julius did. H-He was the one who spoke to the benefactor d-directly."

Julius. Fate played a twisted game with me. Julius didn’t survive the accident, no matter how many doctors I sent to revive the darn bastard.

All they had to do was shove his fucking soul back into his body, but they didn’t succeed, and now he was burning somewhere in hell when he should have tasted my hell.

I walked close.

"Don..." Dante began as a word of reasoning, but he should know better by now; I had turned my brain off, with one thing driving the organs in my body.

Bloodlust.

I placed my hand on Gabriel’s shoulder as any long-time friend would, but then came the pain when I gripped with all my might, blood spurting from the wound he had acquired from hours of torture.

"Give me one reason why I should allow you to keep breathing."

"I-I-I already told D-Dante everything!"

His growls switched to cries as my thumb punctured a hole in his skin.

"KING!" He roared, and my actions ceased instantly.

"J-J-Julius’ last name is King. He never told anyone but me. I promise that is everything. That is the only thing I was trying to hide. Please, I know nothing about the benefactor."

"He’s telling the truth," said Dante.

After torturing someone for hours, he could read their psyche. Being pushed through enough fear and pain, and there was nothing left to hide.

In split seconds, I snatched the gun from Luca’s waistband and fired.

Blood splattered on my face and clothes; maybe his brain did too, but I didn’t flinch.

"Now, how do we deal with a King...?" I considered.

"What do you want us to do?" Dante asked, waiting for the word.

"Burn down his warehouse in Midnight. That should get his much-needed attention. I want him to know the Serpent is slithering around him, hunting for a fresh kill."

"If you do that, it means war," Luca clarified.

"Then let it be war."