Fallen Empire (Dirty Empire)

Except doing it while you’re chained up by your wrists, hanging in a torture room, awaiting your turn.

“You’re wearing my mother’s clothes,” the man says, drawing my attention to him despite my desire to look away.

And he’s wearing none. He’s been stripped and shackled to a chair, his ankles tied to each other, allowing for no modesty, not that he seems particularly embarrassed given his situation. His wrists are bound and pinned against his chest by a chain, sitting just below a barbed metal collar. I can only assume the series of chains binding him are set for tension. His unnaturally stiff posture and the countless streaks of dried blood that stain his skin say he moved at some point and learned a painful lesson.

“He gave them to me.” I clear the rough patch from my throat. The growing ache in my arms is quickly taking over the pain in my cheek. “He didn’t tell me whose they were.”

The man’s brawny chest rises with a deep breath. He must be in his mid-thirties. Short, based on how he fills the chair. And muscular, though strength didn’t keep him out of his predicament, and it won’t help him now. “That’s okay. She doesn’t need them anymore.”

So, Bane did kill that woman. I thought as much.

“I’m sorry.” I hesitate. “Was that her I heard yesterday?”

“Yeah.” A grim look passes across his face. “He killed her yesterday. Killed my father the day before. And my brother, Alexei, was late last night. Or maybe it was this morning. The psycho took an extra long time with him, so I can’t be sure. He did it all right where you’re standing. I’m all that’s left now, and he’s going to kill me, too.” There’s no fear in his voice, just matter-of-fact words. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy to not put up a fight, but the fight’s certainly all gone now. Maybe that’s what happens when you watch your entire family tortured and murdered.

I resist the urge to search the dark corner for the heap of carved flesh, for fear of heaving again. I couldn’t see all the ways Bane tortured this man’s brother, but stumps where fingers and toes used to be is enough to know our captor is far viler than I ever imagined.

He enjoys inflicting pain.

“Why is he doing this to you?” I ask.

“Because of my fucking cousins. They’re the ones who set this in motion. They wanted us gone.” The muscle in his jaw ticks, the first sign that he’s anything but listless. “And there they were, pretending they didn’t care about the family business, but I guess it was all an act to get us out of the way, so they could take over everything. They knew what would happen if Vlad found out who really put him in jail.”

Familiarity burns in my memory. I’ve heard this story before, but a different version of it. “You’re Gabriel’s cousin.” And his father was Gabriel’s uncle. “Your father blew up our plane.” They have to be one and the same.

“We had nothing to do with that!” The guy erupts, then grits his teeth. Crimson drops bloom where the barbs are digging into his flesh. “That was Bane. That was Vlad.”

“But….” I frown. Gabriel’s father tried to kill us? Why try to kill his sons if he needs them to run the business?

“Doesn’t make sense, does it? Except it does to Vlad. Guy’s a heartless bastard. A lesson for his sons, because he’s tired of Caleb and Gabriel dicking around.”

“So, he blew up their plane? With their friends in it?”

“Welcome to the Easton family, where everyone is expendable. Vlad ordered it and his psycho dog set the bomb.” The guy pauses to take a few breaths, as if breathing through the pain. “He admitted to it all before he executed my father.”

I knew Vlad Easton was a terrible man but to do something like this? Does Gabriel know his father is behind all of this yet? Or does he still think his uncle is the one who set the bomb?

I’m reminded of something else Gabriel told me. “Didn’t your father work with the FBI to put Vlad away?” That would explain why Vlad had Bane kill him. Or is that a lie, too?

The guy’s lips twist as if considering his answer. “Vlad was growing too arrogant, making too many risky mistakes with the business. Creating enemies. Personally, I would have solved that problem with a bullet, but my dad couldn’t bring himself to kill his own brother. Betrayal and jail, he was fine with. What can I say? My old man’s logic might have been skewed as much as Vlad’s. They were cut from the same cloth, after all. Anyway, I’ll bet he was regretting that choice in his last moments, ‘cause Vlad certainly didn’t feel the same.” He pauses. “Which one of my degenerate cousins has been talking about private family affairs with you? I thought they knew better than that.”