Page 6 of Brando
My hand tightens into a fist, the ghost of Christiano's laughter fading into the shadows of my mind. I exhale sharply, the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
I push back the chair, its legs scraping quietly against the polished floor. Standing, I feel the weight of the room's emptiness settle on my shoulders like a familiar coat. My fingers deftly straighten the lapels of my suit jacket, my movements precise and automatic.
The club had, for the most part cleared out, leaving behind the scent of rich leathers and spiced cologne. I head toward the exit, each step a measured beat in the silence of my mind. I can feel the silent storm brewing within me, dark clouds swirling around me. I’d thought I’d reach some measure of closure once our mother was gone, but if anything, her coming back into our lives had only stirred up memories which had long laid dormant. Memories that I could do without.
“Brando,” a voice calls out, halting me mid-step.
Scar's figure emerges from the dark shadows of the fading club, his black hair and intense gaze cutting through me. The scar over his brow, a permanent reminder of battles fought and won, deepens with his furrowed expression, matching my own.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. His wife Allegra is due to give birth any day now. He hasn’t left her side for a minute out of fear that he’d miss even a second of the birth of his first child, his biggest fear that he wouldn’t be there when his wife needed him most. After everything they’ve been through together, they’re closer than ever, but my brother has taken tohovering over his wife in a way that shows us he’s a changed man. For the better. The fact that he’s left her even for a second means something serious compelled him to leave the house.
“We need to talk.”
“Where’s Allegra?”
“At home waiting for me. So don’t make me run around in circles.”
“You should be at home with her, Scar,” I tell him, before I turn back once again to the exit.
“Allegra sent me,” he adds quickly, and I halt my footsteps, the unspoken query in my eyes meeting Scar's stern gaze. His concern is etched in the lines of his face, his authority worn as easily as the leather on his back.
My brother's face softens slightly as he tilts his head to the side, indicating a secluded spot away from the last of the club’s departing patrons.
“Over here,” Scar murmurs, leading the way.
The clink of glassware and low hum of conversation dwindles into obscurity as we sink into the plush leather of a booth, shrouded by shadows. The dim light above flickers briefly before settling on a steady glow that barely reaches the table's edge.
“Allegra's due any day now.” Scar's voice carries a sombre weight, eyes locked onto mine. “We’re her family; she needs us. And she’s worried about you, brother.”
My chest tightens, the mention of Allegra threading tension through my already taut muscles. Ever since she’s come into our lives, she’s become mother, sister, and friend to me and my brothers. We’d never had a proper female influence in our lives, yet she’s become everything we never knew we needed.
I nod slowly, the weight of Scar's words settling into my bones like lead. The only thing that still tethers me to this world is what remains of a lineage steeped in both honor and bloodshed.
“Allegra has nothing to worry about. I’ll be there for her,” I murmur, the promise etched deep within the timbre of my voice.
Scar studies me, our shared history a wordless dialogue between us. “You can't keep burying yourself in work, Brando.” His roughened hand brushes against the table, an anchor between us trying to keep me afloat. “Nothing’s going to bring him back.”
Scar's reminder reaches me, a soft blow to the walls I’ve built around my heart. Our mother’s recent death dredged up memories that had no business resurfacing, and I feel like I’m drowning in my own grief again.
“Work is...” I trail off, finding no solace in excuses. I lock eyes with my brother, a silent vow passing through the space between us. “I’ll do better.”
“Just be there,” Scar says, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the force of a command. “Because that's where you belong, Brando.”
My gaze shifts. Gratitude for Scar's concern laces with the sharp sting of frustration. My brother's words echo in my mind, but so does the endless list of demands waiting outside these walls.
“Scar,” my voice is a low rumble, “the empire doesn't run itself.”
“Neither does a family.”
4
MIA
We are now orphans. We are completely and utterly alone. I sigh at the reminder. Mom went first, and now dad is gone too. Orphans, the last of our bloodline, and we are currently holed up in a halfway house in some obscure suburb sitting on the edge of insanity. We will probably die here. The monsters will come eventually, and it will be a fight to the death.
I won’t let them take us. I won’t let them split us up to defile and destroy us any way they wish to do so. If I have to drive a knife through my own sisters’ hearts to avoid the monsters when they come, then that’s what I will do. I will not let them suffer the fate awaiting them if we are trafficked.
My sisters are all I have left of my family, and I’d do anything to protect them. The same way I’ve nurtured and protected them throughout their nineteen years. I’ve dedicated my life to looking after them, and I will go on doing so, and God help anyone who gets between us or tries to take advantage of their naivety.