Broken Soul (Jackson Family 3)
James was waiting in the basement when the three of us stepped downstairs. He looked at his watch. “You’re late.”
“By one fucking minute,” Darren told him. “Lighten up, brother. Shit wasn’t easy. Soon as we stormed the place, fuckers came pouring out of the goddamn woodwork. It was like watching roaches when the light is shined on them.”
I dropped Lorenzo on the floor. He shouted something at me in Spanish, and I kicked him in the face, shutting him up. Darren moved forward, his knife glinting in his hand. I stood back and crossed my arms over my chest, getting ready to watch Darren do what he did best.
Torture people.
“Why the fuck are you setting us up against the Bratva?” Darren demanded to know.
The man answered in more Spanish. Darren sighed and knelt, pressing the tip of his blade against the man’s throat. “You feel this? It’s sharp as fuck. I suggest you figure out how to speak English real quick, or I’ll teach it to you as I gut you.”
I snickered. James cast me a dark look, but I just shrugged.
“Okay!” Lorenzo yelled, his Hispanic accent extremely thick. “You,” he said, glaring at James, “wiped out my entire family, and your wife,” he looked back at Darren, “is the cause of all this.”
Darren’s face darkened at the mention of his wife. He nicked the man’s throat, and I watched Lorenzo’s face pale at the silent threat. “I suggest you leave my wife out of this conversation,” Darren silkily warned him.
“So, you are trying to rebuild the cartel?” James asked.
Lorenzo clenched his jaw, not answering. Darren sighed and impatiently stabbed Lorenzo in the shoulder. His blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, pleasing the monster inside of all of us.
“You going to talk?” Darren snapped.
“I’m not even who you want!” Lorenzo yelled. “There’s someone much bigger than me putting all this back together! None of us know who he is, but we all know he’s going to ruin you all, starting with your fucking wife!”
Darren lost his shit. We all stood back, watching as Darren began to cover himself in the fucker’s blood. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Juliana, knowing she most likely wouldn’t say anything to me, but she would come if I told her that Darren needed her.
“Juliana,” I said when she silently answered the phone, “come to the basement. Your husband needs you.”
I hung up right after. James nodded once at me in respect because even he knew when Darren got like this, Juliana was his only hope.
Life had fucked Darren up in more ways than one, and this? This shit was proof of it.
A minute later, Juliana rushed down the stairs, and without flinching or blinking twice at the blood covering her husband, she grabbed Darren’s bloody shirt, bringing him to a halt. He dropped the knife to the floor and gripped her face in his bloodied hands, smothering her lips with his.
We all took our leave. None of us needed to witness what we all knew Darren was about to do to his wife in the midst of a fucking bloodbath. Besides, he’d kill us all if we saw her naked.