Eddie rhythmically drums against the steering wheel to the beat of the music. His attitude has been surprisingly carefree ever since we left the loft. All the while, my nerves have been completely shot. My leg bounces as my heart rate continues to beat faster. I don't realize I've been chewing on my thumbnail until a sharp pain pinches at my skin.

    A small drop of blood escapes, so I suck on the small wound, ignoring the metallic taste.

    "Would you cut that out?" Eddie says, and slaps my leg. "You're not on a fucking death march - Jesus."

    I scratch at my brow and clear my throat, immediately straightening in my chair. With my brain itching at every possible thing that could go wrong, it's hard to keep my fear from clawing its way to the surface. No matter how hard I try to push back, I can't fight my own anxiety. It's always had a way of taking over, consuming me from the inside.

    "Don't pay any attention to the wetback, Griff," Braxton says from the backseat.

    "Fuck off," Eddie huffs. Using one hand, he pulls a cigarette from the carton on the dashboard before lighting it. He inhales deeply before offering me one, and I accept it without hesitation. "What does your little girlfriend think of you smoking?"

    "Doesn't matter now." I exhale from my nose. "I dumped her."

    Braxton's skepticism can be seen in the rearview mirror through slit eyes. He definitely suspects something's off. "Really?"

    "Yeah, man." I take another drag. "Got tired of getting blue-balled all the time."

     Eddie laughs out loud. "You ever heard of forced entry?"

    "Oh for Christ's sake, Torres," Braxton says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there ever anything sensible coming from your mouth?"

    He only shrugs in reply, letting the car ride fall into a much needed silence. The remainder of our journey consists of me looking out the window, mentally preparing myself for the night's events.

Eddie turns off the headlights of the car when we turn into an almost empty parking lot. Slowly, he circles around to the back of the building where more cars are camped and parks next to another SUV.

"I thought we were surrendering." I whisper, breaking the quiet air in the car.

"We are," Eddie huffs.

"We don't want to bring any unnecessary attention to ourselves before we get the chance," Braxton explains further. "We don't want to die before waving the white flag."

"Don't you mean the fake white flag?" I ask, trying to keep up with the plan.

"Yep," Eddie says, bonking me on the back of my head. "Now do us all a favor and don't mention that while we're in there, or that flag's going up your ass."

Braxton's laugh breaks out after Eddie's threat. "I'm ready to go whenever you jackasses are done bickering."

"I'm ready." Eddie assures him, a heavy puff of smoke leaving his nose angrily. He turns to me before getting out of the car. "You're not saying a word in there unless you have to, got it?"

I grunt and cross my arms.

"Austin," Braxton chimes in. "This is important. I trust you, but Seníor Slaughter over here has issues with that. Let us do all the talking, okay?"

"Yeah. No problem, man."

"See?" Braxton turns to Eddie. "Being civil works, too."

Eddie grumbles something under his breath while he gets out of the car. When he tosses his cigarette onto the ground, he puts it out with his foot. Braxton and I follow his example, shutting the doors quietly behind us once we've exited the vehicle.

The building we've parked behind doesn't seem lively enough for nine at night. Only a couple lights shine through the windows of the top floor, the rest seemingly uninhabited. There's an uneasy feeling crawling up my throat, as if something isn't right.

"You sure we're at the right building?" When I get an aggravated look from Eddie, I add, "I mean, isn't it a little quiet for this time at night?"

Braxton shakes his head. "We chose this night specifically to make a move. Most of King's guys are on their runs. Perfect timing."

The cocking of a gun draws my attention to Eddie's hands. He looks at me for a second before reaching around me to hand the gun over to Braxton, which he secures behind him in the hem of his jeans.

After Eddie takes one out for himself, I look at him expectantly. He laughs. "What? You don't expect me to give you one, do you?"

"I don't get any form of protection?"

He grins at me and pulls out a small knife, meant for opening cardboard boxes.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do you not want it?" he taunts, raising his eyebrows.

Rolling my eyes, I swipe the sad excuse of a knife from Eddie's hand. "Let's just get this over with so I can go home."

Eddie chuckles and makes his way to the back doors. At first, I think we'll have to break in, but the doors are unlocked. Suspicions cross my mind, but Braxton doesn't seem worried, so I let down my guard a little.

Once we're inside, Eddie leads us to an elevator at the end of the hall. A ding signals the elevator has stopped on our floor as the doors open. Eddie makes sure I'm behind him once we're inside.

"Stay behind me, okay?" he says, looking straight ahead.

Braxton takes position right next to him. "Will you put your gun down? Jesus."

With a glare, Eddie lowers his weapon a little. "I'd rather be prepared, thanks."

"Fine, get shot on sight." Braxton's tone is bored as he shrugs, still seemingly unfazed by what's ahead. Is this guy scared of anything?

The elevator ride is filled with tension. It's been a long time since I've seen Brandan King, even then, it was only for brief moments and we never held an actual conversation. As memory serves, he's not a scary guy, but the people he surrounds himself are. His street cred is off the charts, earning him plenty of loyal followers.

Eddie glances at me, then back at Braxton. "He's not going to shoot me, and you know it."

Braxton elbows him in the ribs. "If you don't shut up, I will."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the two know something I don't. The idea makes me back up further into the lift. I hit the walk, my muscles becoming more tense than before. I'm chilled to the bone as a tingle makes its way up my spine.

"Fuck," I whisper, just loud enough for myself to hear. A shaky hand rakes through my sweaty hair.

Right once the doors open, Eddie raises his gun, and an amused Brandan stares into the barrel with smug eyes. Two buff men stand at his side, carrying assault rifles. Brandan, on the other hand, is completely unarmed.

"Eduardo," Brandan says, the smirk not leaving his face. "Nice to see you again."

"Shut up." Eddie's growl is chilling, and he refuses to lower the gun.

Brandan's eyes land on me. "Isn't that Andrew Griffin's son?"

"Never mind him. I have news for you." Braxton crosses his arms, waiting for Brandan's cue to continue.

"And what kind of news would that be?"

"News that I think you'll like."

"Go on." Brandan smirks.

"Dax has decided to listen to me about raising the white flag."

He laughs. "Has he? I find that piece of shit nonsense hard to believe."

"Well, it's true," Eddie confirms, finally lowering his gun. "Took a bit of convincing, but he finally caved."

Brandan looks at me again with squinting eyes, then back at Braxton. "You guys made the right move, but you know I need more than just a promise of words."

I glance at Braxton, and then Eddie, who both seem to have been expecting some kind of ultimatum. My hands are shaking, so I stuff them in my pockets, preparing myself for what Brandan means by 'more'.

One of Brandan's guys lowers his gun and steps forward once he gets a nod from his leader. The dark skinned man grabs Eddie by the shoulder, but he shrugs him off.

"Don't fucking touch me. I know the drill." Eddie's growl is filled with malice, but he doesn't put up much of a fight anymore. He probably figures it's in his best interest to at least somewhat cooperate.

"Hope you guys understand," Brandan says, looking back at the glaring Mexican. "Call it reassurance. Don't want you guys pulling one over on me."

Braxton is now showing a faint amount of worry. "Dax isn't going to like this."

Brandan shrugs. "That's not my problem. Your brother wants us to work in peace, well, peace has its consequences."

All of a sudden, a loud bang echoed through the room. My muscles tighten as the familiar sound fills my ears. When i hear someone fall to the floor, I realize my eyes are squeezed shut.

When I open my eyes, Braxton is on the ground, clutching his leg.

"Fuck!" he yells in pain. "The fuck, man?"

"Eddie stays with me until I can trust your dumb fuck of a brother," Brandan says, still pointing the smoking gun at Braxton. "And knowing him, that won't be for a long ass time."

"So what? I'm just supposed to be your little prisoner until then? Unfucking likely," Eddie spits, almost unbothered by what just happened.

I, on the other hand, can't tear my eyes away from Braxton. His face is twisted in an uncomfortable expression as he puts pressure on his flowing wound. Blood seeps through his fingers as it trails down his leg, his jeans completely trashed.

After the shock wears off, I grab Braxton by the arm to help him stand. He hisses through his clenched teeth as he rises on his good leg. I let him lean his weight on me when he wraps his arm around my shoulders for support.

"Tell your brother he has two days to completely stand down. Or," he raises his gun towards Eddie's head. "his right hand man joins his older brother in hell."

Braxton lets me drive on the way back. He sprawls out on a blanket in the back seat, Eddie claiming that he'd shoot him in his good leg if he got any blood on the expensive leather. A belt is tightly secured  just above his wound, but the bleeding is long from over.

"We have to get you to a hospital," I say, taking my eyes off the road for a moment to glance back at him.

"No hospitals," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Iker can stitch me up, no problem."

The rest of the ride consists of only Braxton's groans. I've never been shot, but being stabbed was no picnic. It was the greatest pain I've ever experienced, and I hope to never feel anything like it again.

When we pull up in the street right in front of the loft, Braxton's pain has turned into worry. "Dax is gonna blame us for this. You know that, right?"

"Doesn't surprise me." I sigh, taking the keys out of the ignition."

I help Braxton get as far as the elevator before he shrugs me off. He must not be used to people helping him. Having a brother like Dax, he needs all the help he can get. Especially now, since in His older brother's eyes, he's to blame for the loss of his second in command. Judging from the sibling relationships I know, I'm glad I don't have one. They would be just another person to kick me around, or the other way around.

The thought forms a lump in my throat. I would never want to be the one to cause so much harm, especially to my own blood. If I ever have children, they won't go through what I've had to with my parents.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

The doors of the elevator open and Iker is already there to meet us. He immediately takes action, carrying Braxton to the kitchen, while I follow. Braxton takes a seat on a chair and Iker inspects his wound.

"Damn, Brax," he says, then looks over at me and points to something behind my back. "Make yourself useful and grab that first aid kit over there."

I spring into action, handing the metal box once I've retrieved it.

He fishes around in it before finding a pair of scissors, cutting the pant leg off Braxton's jeans.

"Where's Dax?" I ask, looking around the room.

Dax walks in as if I summoned him from hell.

"Where the fuck is Eddie?" He asks the very question I've been dreading to hear.

A distressing roar takes the attention away from Dax as Iker digs around for the bullet. Blood oozes from Braxton's leg and he slams his hand down on the table. "Fuck!"

"Can you fucking hold him for me?" Iker tells at me.

I hold down Braxton's leg while Dax has pushed down on his shoulders. He struggles a bit, but tries to keep still. It takes a few minutes, but Iker finally pulls out the bullet.

"You're lucky it comes out in one piece." Iker laughs, earning a punch in the shoulder from his patient.

"Fucking hurt like a bitch!"

Iker laughs again while taking out a needle and a thick thread. He stitches the wound up like a pro in under ten minutes.

"There," he says. "Good as new."

Another excruciating groan comes from Braxton when Dax presses his thumb down on his brother's stitched up injury.

"Now tell me," Dax growls sadistically. "Where is Eddie."

***

After another long wait, I've finally gotten the next chapter posted. Thank you all so much for your patients. Having to work over 40 hours a week really gets in the way of all my writing time. Had to write this chapter all on my breaks while at work. This will probably be when I will be writing most of my stuff these next couple of weeks as well.

Enough about my life struggles... How did you guys like the chapter? Please feel free to post questions or comments in the comment section below, and maybe even a vote if you thought the chapter was deserving!