The Revenge by Tijan

A presence was coming in from my right, but I moved, slamming Chase back. “Stop!”

“You stop.” He shoved me back. His eyes were wild, feral. He was almost salivating. “I want him dead.”

“I want answers.”

“Fuck the answers.”

Chase started for him again, but I was seeing red.

In the back of my mind, I knew we each had our own cross to bear here. Both of us had been terrorized and threatened by Calhoun all our lives, but in different ways. I didn’t care. Each man for himself, as far as I was concerned. And because of that, when my brother started for him again, only seeing Calhoun, I pounced. I couldn’t bring myself to knock my brother out—I didn’t know why, and I’d maybe think on that later, but as he stepped forward, I kicked out his leg. When he fell, I was there, my arms wrapped around him, and he toppled forward. I went with him.

I had him in a headlock, my legs preventing him from fighting back. He couldn’t fight me. My arms had his locked up at an angle that he would’ve needed to break a shoulder—Pop!

Fuck.

He did.

Chase rolled out from my hold and was up on his feet the next second. “You fucking kidding me?” He was roaring at me, his voice echoing through the garage. “This kill is mine. You didn’t live with him, under his thumb, being turned into a—”

I rushed him, trying to lock him back down.

He was the emotional one. Not me, not this time. I wanted justice, but I wanted my hits, too. Chase, he just wanted to kill. That made him irrational, not thinking clearly, and I was going to use that. He wanted me off and he wanted a clear path to Calhoun. I wasn’t letting him get that.

He swung, batting me away, but his punches were pulled. He didn’t want to hurt me. Fine. Guess I’d be the asshole here. I moved back, letting him think his punch worked, and he turned, already going for Calhoun again. I did an exact repeat of my first move, but this time, as I kicked out his knee, I kicked it harder than was needed. I heard another tear and I winced, knowing I was doing so much damage to my twin, but he fell and I fell with him with my legs wrapped tight around him so he couldn’t move. I waited, praying, praying, praying.

He paused.

He fought.

He twisted.

He roared.

His head lashed around, trying to find mine, to make contact. I gritted my teeth, tightening my hold around his neck until I felt his body go slack. I still waited, loosening my hold on his neck so he could breathe. He did. I felt his chest move, but he didn’t try to get out of my hold.

He was unconscious.

Still cautious, breathing harder than I thought, only my panting filled the garage now. I unwound from his body, kicking him over so he was on his side in case he vomited, and when my brother was okay, I lifted my head.

Calhoun was sitting up, watching us.

He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t tried to retreat. But then I saw why.

He was holding on to his own shoulder. Blood was pouring down from him. He’d been shot. But I looked around and didn’t know what gun—

“Chase shot me.”

He jerked his head to the side, where I saw a gun lying there.

I stood, my panting still echoing around the garage, and looked over my grandfather more carefully. One of his legs was crushed. Chase had shot him there, too.

“I can’t use it.”

He sounded resigned to his fate, and he grunted, half laughing again. A shake of his head, his beard barely moving, he let out a deep burst of air.

“Bested. Bested by my two grandsons.”

Another half laugh, half grunt and he looked where Chase was lying. “That pathetic piece of shit was supposed to be my ace. I wanted him back. If I got him back, I could turn everything around. Slap him around, lock him back up until he was ready to come out and play like the soldier he was supposed to be. Didn’t think I’d ever see the two of you team up. Pieces of shits, both of you.”

My teeth were grinding.

“I know it’s over. You…” Those eyes came back to me now, and hate filled them. Derision. Disdain. His mouth curled in a sneer. I was scum under his shoes. “Should’ve tossed you both out like pups, in a tied bag. Let you drown. But I had a weak spot for your mother. What a fucking cunt, all of you. Her sister, too. She was worthless. Then you, you should’ve been aborted when I found out she was pregnant. You both…”

I was letting him spew, and he kept saying the same shit.

He wanted us dead. He should’ve killed us when he had the chance.

His daughters were worthless, both of them.

And back to the beginning.

“Why’d you kill my mother?”

He stopped on a gargle, his eyes glazed over from the pain. He stared at me, long and hard, as if he couldn’t see me. Then he hiccupped, and some blood sputtered out of him. “For the money. Bitch had my money.”

“Your money?”

“Her inheritance from her mother. That was supposed to be mine. All the fucking stupid courts and their fancy lawyer. Your grandmother left everything to her. Not her sister. Not me. Her. She didn’t have to die, though. She could’ve lived. But no, no. In the end, the bitch turned on me and had to go. Stupid. She was so stupid. That man, too.”

My father.

Calhoun spat, “He was a worm. Nothing but a slithering, slimy worm. Losers. And you and your brother, you’re the worst of them. You’re just like your mother.”