Rafael Martinez

I'm finishing putting on the bulletproof vest when the door opens and Kyle walks in.
"Let's end this once and for all," he declares, turning to Seth, who's sitting in front of the computer with the surveillance system that was installed and configured in our home the day after Brooke was rescued.
The camera system is Adônis's work, of course. It operates independently of all other networks and is completely impenetrable. Not even Adônis could hack it remotely—the only way would be from inside our house.
"We should've done this a long time ago," I say.
"Brooke wasn't ready. She needed to recover, to remember her own strength," Seth counters. "I still don't like doing this behind her back."
"The plan was yours," Kyle adds.
"Doesn't mean I like it, but it was necessary." He glances toward Kyle putting on the vest.
"Did you warn the guards?"
"They’re ready."

When Seth woke us up this morning with the news that Underworld had been set on fire, it was obvious it had been the work of whoever’s been after Brooke to separate her from us.
Our first instinct, of course, was not to leave her side. But it was the perfect bait—her stalker was clearly escalating the violence, which made him dangerous, but also careless, prone to making mistakes. And the chance to find Brooke alone would be too tempting for the hijo de puta to resist.
What he doesn’t know is that she won’t be alone. We bought the house next to ours under my mom’s name, a week after Brooke’s rescue, when it became clear we were dealing with a stalker. We’ve been preparing ever since.

"Anything?" I ask Seth.
"Not yet, but Thorne just left. If Patrick’s smart, he’ll wait at least half an hour, make sure she’s alone."
That was the other thing today brought: confirmation of the stalker’s identity.

In the middle of our meeting as we planned the best way to execute the plan, Adônis called.
"Good evening, Thorne."
"Good morning, Adônis. You’re on speaker," Kyle announced.
"Great, I was about to ask you to call your brothers. The info from your girl’s ex’s uncle was what we needed. I finally figured out why we couldn’t find anything on Patrick Anderson."
"I appreciate good suspense as much as anyone," I replied, "but we’re in the middle of a crisis. Someone set fire to Underworld, and we’re pretty sure it was Brooke’s stalker."
"You can drop the ‘pretty sure,’ Raffi," Adônis corrected. "The reason we had nothing on him is because until 12 years ago, he didn’t exist."
"Come again?" Kyle asked.
"The U.S. government gave the entire family new identities."
"Witness protection?" Seth asked, leaning closer to the device.

The intensity with which the youngest stares at the phone is such that I wouldn’t be surprised if Adônis appeared right on the table.
"Exactly, Seth. The thing is, Patrick was the son of one of the right-hand men of the Denver Italian mafia. From what I understand, the guy’s wife, Patrick’s mother, was killed in some conflict. So the father, Marco, made a deal with the government and turned in one of the bosses, the consigliere, in exchange for new identities for him and his two sons."
"Two sons?"
"Yeah, Patrick had a brother. Apparently, Marco raised the boys like they were still in the mafia, but the older one didn’t want a life of crime and joined the Marines."
"He was one of us?" Kyle echoed the question my brain asked.
"Yes, he died in action. It was a rescue mission, but the team responsible didn’t arrive in time."

My stomach dropped like it was made of lead, instinctively knowing what Adônis would say next. I looked at my brothers and saw my feelings reflected on their faces. I remembered that mission—the only time we failed.
"Blackbird mission?" Seth asked.
"Yeah. Somehow, Patrick found out who was on the rescue team. From what I gather, he got close to Brooke to get to them. I don’t know what made him wait almost five years to act."
"Her," the three of us replied in unison.
It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so disturbing.

"He triggered the sensors at the pool entrance," Seth announced, pulling me out of my memories. He stood and held out his hand. I opened my wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
"That’s a stupid idea. The garage entrance makes way more sense," I grumbled.
"Time to go," Kyle said, putting the Bluetooth communicator in his ear. Seth and I did the same.

Thorne opens the front door and we go through the gate, splitting up.
"Comms check," Kyle calls.
"Reaper, loud and clear," I reply.
"Hellhound. Copy that."
"Alright, let’s end this son of a bitch." A smile spreads across my face in anticipation.

I’m at the door that connects the garden to the kitchen. Seth will come in through the other entrance while Kyle cuts the power.
"First hit’s mine," Seth fires off, and the tension in his voice tells me something just happened on the video feed he’s still watching on his phone.

Rage consumes me. If that bastard touched my woman, I swear I’m going to break every finger on his hand.
"Doomshade, now!" Seth commands, and Kyle complies. The house goes dark, and I’m already inside.
"Hellhound, where is she?" My priority is her safety, and Seth already claimed the first hit anyway.
"Running to the office." The pride in his voice is so clear it makes me smile again.

She didn’t freeze. She took the chance to run like we hoped. That’s my girl.
I move down the hall and see her—she’s almost at the door when I grab her. I cover her mouth because I know her first instinct right now will be to scream, and we can’t attract attention. Seth is silent—I don’t know if he’s caught Patrick or not.

Brooke struggles against me.
"Shhhh, babygirl," I whisper, and she instantly relaxes. "Come with me."
I release her and grab her hand, guiding her to the basement. I start to hear things breaking and want to run and help my brothers, but I have to make sure Brooke is safe first.

I open the door and the emergency light illuminates the stairs. We go down in silence; she squeezes my hand a few times. When we reach the lower floor, I open the room door and gesture for her to enter. I close it behind us and turn on the light.
"I thought the power was out," she whispers.
"It is. This room’s powered by a generator." The room has no decoration, it’s simple, functional. A table and chair, a TV screen that works as a monitor, and a keyboard. "You’re staying here until one of us comes back."
"Since when does this exist?" she asks in disbelief, gesturing to the room. But my eyes scan her body for injuries, focusing on the red marks on her arms that I have no doubt will bruise in a few hours.

If there were any doubts that today would be Patrick’s last day alive, they’re gone now.
"Always. It was just upgraded with the new surveillance system," I explain.

I turn on the screen and the cameras appear. I see Seth and Kyle carrying Patrick to the garage. Good, that part’s done.
"What are they going to do?" she asks, watching the two of them.
"Find out if he’s working alone. Get some answers." I turn to leave, and she grabs my wrist.
"I’m going with you."

I pull the extra communicator from my pocket.
"Here, put this on. You’ll be able to hear everything and watch while staying safe."
"Raffi," she protests as I turn away.
"It’s not up for debate, babygirl." I cup her face gently and press our lips together in a quick kiss. "Not this time. We’ve got scores to settle, and you don’t need fresh fuel for your nightmares."

She widens her eyes and nods, sitting down, hands clasped under her chin as she stares at the monitor.
"Be careful," she says, and I smile.
"Always. I’ll be back soon."

I run up the stairs and head to the garage.
Patrick is tied to a metal chair in the middle of the room, his lip bleeding and his eye already swollen from a cut above his brow. The fact that all three of us left the house with our cars freed up a lot of space.
"I should thank you, Patrick," Seth says, his cold tone making the hairs on my arm stand on end. It’s been years since I heard that voice. "Your stellar job disappearing will make sure no one asks questions."
"Some heroes you are. You’re nothing but murderers!" he spits a mix of saliva and blood onto the floor.

Kyle notices my presence and raises an eyebrow.