Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 112 - 114

Chapter 112: Chapter 114

"What did you want to talk about?" Luciano asks, strolling into my bedroom.

I close the door behind them. Silas collapses on the edge of my bed, the mattress dipping with a high groan. Luciano pulls out the backless stool of my vanity to plop himself onto it.

"I want us to be honest with each other for the first time in—my entire life," I demand with compromise. "I know more than I’ve let on and I reckon you’ve sensed some that."

They exchange meaningful looks between each other. A bond I’ve been left out on. The bond between brothers. I mean, we’re all close on a surface level. Playful. Protective. But when it comes to honesty and loyalty, well, that are entirely different worlds that don’t seem to converge as they should.

"What do you know?" Luciano probes.

"Assume enough," I challenge. "Enough about dad’s true history with Haru. And that he’s not the victim he made himself out to be."

Silas’s eyes snap to me, alarm jerking him upright. "Who have you been talking to?"

"The only concern you should have right now is that I’m talking to you," I say with a frightening firmness I don’t recognise, as my own brutal tone is one I’ve never used—especially with my brothers. "Did you know that the Vacherons were dirty?"

Wild confusion erupts on Silas’s face, forcing him to his feet. "No, the one truth that is true—he was the one that approached dad. He was in a jam with Haru and that may or may have not been his fault. But he still needed to get from under him."

"So what did dad agree to do to dissolve his debt—and freeing me?" I question.

"It doesn’t matter," Silas rebukes, his voice ripe with a reprimand as if I had the gall to ask. As if it isn’t my right. "That’s his responsibility. Not your business and not definitely not your problem."

"How he does business is my problem," I retort, my insides warm from the anger that spreads through limb to limb. "Did he know Vacheron was dirty when he allied us with them?"

"Yes," Luciano hisses. "He had an idea, but he was desperate. He had crossed a point of no return with Haru. He needed a salve. What we didn’t know was how deep the dirt goes. It’s why he had been planning an exit strategy long before the shooting even happened. Because despite the things we’ve all done... some lines you just don’t cross. And Colton did."

"So no," Silas says with a withering tone, "we’re not the villains you made us out to be in your head. We may be far from good, but we’re not... him."

"I never said you were evil incarnate," I whisper back.

"Might as well," Luciano points out. "If you’re comparing us to the Vacherons."

"I for one, don’t think Colton is going to let us slip quietly into the night."

"Bet," Silas agrees, "But now we got the Yakuza as protection."

"Or we can protect ourselves."

I go to the vanity table to dump the content of my pockets on the surface. And I rummage through the digital pile. I take the listening device and I plug into the primary remote console, also connecting it to the Wi-Fi before I access the only recording. As they watch me fiddle, type and scroll, then after a short while, the recording plays over the integrated mini speaker. I wince at the sound of my struggle punctuated between sentences, my pained groans and gasps that etch horror on my brother’s faces.

When it’s over, Luciano stands to his feet absently. "I’m not going to rip his fucking head off."

"I’ll tear off what’s left of him," Silas agrees with a vacant stare in his eyes as if he’s fantasizing about it right now. Reality yanks him from his reverie. Comprehension settles on his strained features. "You were recording him... how did you know he would divulge what he did?"

Luciano nods back to the devices, and his eyes dart to the gadgets in my hands. "What I’m interested in is the specialised gear. You can’t get that at your local store; that’s law enforcement issued."

Silas’s eyes cut into me with a burning look. "You’ve been talking to cops?"

"Never," I say, more surprised at the fact that they’re more indignant about the possibility of me talking to law enforcement than what they heard Vance say about Vacheron enterprises. "But what I am saying is that we have an insurance policy. If Colton even thinks of retribution, this recording makes it to CNN. It’s not tangible proof, I know, but it will cause substantial damage. After authentication, not even his high-powered attorneys can sweep the fact that his own sun admitted to the fact they were violating human rights."

Luciano nods carefully, sharing a guarded smile with Silas. "That’s amazing. Dad will be happy to hear about it. I can take it to him for safekeeping."

He juts out his hand, and my insides shrivel at the sight. And I don’t know why.

"It’s okay, I’ve kept it safe all along," I say as light-hearted as possible.

Silas approaches with a regretful look on his face, mouthing an apology.

"Avara, give it to me," Luciano demands.

"You want to protect Colton?"

Silas grabs for it, but I dart my hand out of his way deftly.

"Avara, please," Silas begs.

"I don’t care about the Vacherons," Luciano clarifies. "We’ve established that."

My heart sinks to the soles of my feet. "Dad," I breathe.

Silas seizes my bandaged wrist—a shock of pain. Luciano snatches it from my weakened grip.

"So neither of you are any different from Colton," I spit out with my wrist cradled to my chest once again, tears searing through despite my resistance to restrain them.

Silas steps closer to comfort me, but I rush back like a wounded animal, my back coddled in a corner. A flash of hurt in Silas’s eyes and Luciano grinds his jaw, unable to look at me as I am.

"Dad is connected to the cartels, right?" I say, almost as afraid as when I confronted Vance. "And they are one of many organisations that purchase human cargo. Slave labour supplied by Colton at the helm."

"It’s not as simple as you make it sound," Silas refutes with a plea in his voice, as if he wishes he can make me understand.

"Dad is profiting from people’s suffering. You’re helping him. Sounds simple enough."

"Everything he does is to protect us," Luciano says with his voice rising over reason. "At first, yes. He was corrupt as fuck and he didn’t care about it. But then we came and it... changed him, but by then he was in too deep with too many criminal syndicates. We had to secure a way to disappear, and that doesn’t mean just with money. It means aliases, fraudulent papers, safehouses, connections—"

"Stop." The word whips out of me like a gust of wind. "I’m not going to stand here and listen to you justify human trafficking. Even if it does somehow guarantee my safety. My life is not worth the thousands that are being condemned for your choices."

"Sis, you need to get off your little pedestal of self-righteousness," Luciano says with a harsh arch in his tone. "We didn’t have a choice. That’s the point. Neither did dad. He had already dug himself into a pit. A grave to fit all four of us. Except they got to mom first."

Silas latches on Luciano’s arm with a warning grip. "No."

"She deserves to know," he says as he jerks his arm out of his hold. "The police report, states officially that mom’s death was ruled an accident. It wasn’t an accident. It was a hit."

Something akin to grief and guilt clamp down on my insides.

"Dad tried to do things differently, for a short time," Luciano disclaims, "but then someone put a hit on us and made it look like an accident. We still don’t know who, but when I learned that fact. I vowed right there and then to protect those that remained. So I don’t care what inhuman thing I had to do to keep you safe. In fact, I sleep soundly because of it. That was until the Vacherons." He flutters the stolen gadget in his hand. "So I’m going to hang on to this."