Page 17 of Lucky
I walk to the tower, where I find my brother sitting in his wheelchair, looking out the window. I moved him here after I almost lost him. He resides in the highest peak of our home, on the throne of our empire. The decision to relocate him was three-fold. He’s always loved the tower and watching the grounds from the innermost sanctum of our world. It’s set apart from the restof the property, which means he's afforded all the privacy he needs. And it’s the safest quarter of the home – in the event of an attack, an intruder would need to go through layers and layers of concrete to get to him.
He wheels the chair around as I step into the room, his curious eyes finding mine. It’s like he feels something in the air. As though he senses the shift, the change that’s coming. I let out a deep sigh and let go of the door handle before walking towards him.
Even after his ‘accident’, I have never held anything back from my brother. I never will. I know he’s in there somewhere. I can tell by the way his eyes follow my movements. He may not be as physically capable as he once was, but he’s still mentally connected to me in a way not many people would understand.
“Did you miss me, buddy?” I ask, crouching until we’re face to face. His lips move in the slightest twitch. He lifts a hand and trails it down my cheek slowly. I curl into his hand, like a cat would its owner.
“I miss you so damn much, Jack.” Tears form in my eyes, even as I fight against them. His eyebrows pull down in some semblance of a frown just as he shakes his head. I swear I can read him without the benefit of speech. His expressions, his mannerisms. We were in tune with one another’s thoughts long before we lost the connection after the trauma that divided us.
“What’s wrong, Jackie?”
“I’ve made a mess of things, Jack. The men don’t take me seriously like they did you.”
His eyes skirt down to his knees before he looks back up at me, raising his eyebrows.
“Do you think they were taking me seriously when this happened to me?”
“I don’t believe-refuse to believe-that one of our own could have orchestrated your death, Jack.” I’m adamant that none of our men would have been cruel enough to do this.
He tips his head at an angle; he himself is unsure.
“Really, Jackie?”
“A war is coming. I have to send you away.”
He lifts his head to the ceiling and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he looks back at me, it’s with a look of resignation. There is nothing he can do to change my mind, even though he does not want us to be apart.
“It will only be for a little while, Jack. I promise.”
9
LUCKY
It has a calming effect, taking a life. It brings with it always a stillness, like the world holds its breath. But killing in multiples? It’s like a symphony, each life extinguishing a note in a dark, violent crescendo. My heart doesn’t race—it slows, matching the quiet rhythm of inevitability. And there’s nothing like the taste of vengeance.
Now, as we drive out of the city, three sleek SUVs eating up the asphalt beneath us, there’s a strange kind of peace in the air. The chaos we carry settles between us, with the steady hum of the engines and the low murmur of voices crackling over the radios. The scent of vengeance clings to us, sharp and electric, begging for release.
The city lights blur into nothing, swallowed by the darkness of the open road. The lead vehicle sets the pace, and we follow without hesitation, a convoy of shadows slipping into the day as the sun rises. The camaraderie is unspoken, the tension absent—not because we don’t care, but because we’re doing what has to be done, and we’re setting an example.
Come into my club and destroy it, and I’ll set your fucking world on fire.
The man driving my SUV lights a cigarette, the orange glow briefly illuminating his face. His lips curl into a wolfish grin as he exhales, the smoke curling lazily toward the cracked window.
“Hell of a night waiting for the sun to come up,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. Fucker can’t wait to get his hands tainted with the blood of another. It still bothers me sometimes, but we must do what we must do.
I chose to wait for the light. Because this act needs to be seen. It needs to be heard. And there needs to be no room for doubt.
The weight of the night isn’t a burden—it’s a purpose. Each mile we put between us and the city is another step toward the reckoning we’re about to deliver.
Behind me, I can hear the faint sound of someone laughing, the kind of laugh that only comes when there’s nothing left to lose. It ripples through the air, a stark contrast to the silence outside.
We cross the city limits, the last streets disappearing in the rearview. The road ahead is empty, lined with trees that loom like sentinels on either side. No one speaks for a while, the only sound the rumble of engines and the steady beat of tires against the road.
I glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the SUV behind us. In the passenger seat, one of the guys—Tino, I think—leans forward, his face lit with the kind of manic energy that only comes with the promise of spilling blood.
“How far out?” someone asks over the radio, their voice crackling through the static.
“Not far,” I respond, the words calm, controlled. My eyes flick to the GPS mounted on the dashboard, the glowing screen marking the distance to our destination.