Antidote by LC Lehesaho

18

For two years, I tried to save her.

I should've taken her with me and left when we had a chance.

Did we ever have a chance? I don't actually think we did. None of that was our fault; we were just fucking kids.

Still Amelia's destiny is on me. I should've been a good brother and saved her. Really save her.

But I didn't.

"Open your fucking eyes, boy!"

I squeeze them shut tighter, rocking myself on the floor. I'm not going to watch it. No. Her crying echoes in my ears and I want to slap my hands to cover them, pretend it's not happening again.

I won't though. Her suffering is mine.

"Open your eyes, bastard!" The growl now comes from right behind the bars. The dogs are barking in the next cage, their claws scratching the floor where they're trying to get out.

I won't open my eyes. I hear them, but I can't watch. Not again.

The rattling from the metal makes me snap my eyes open.

"No, no, no—" I throw my hands out in front of me, trying to back up in the cage, but the meaty hand still catches my arm.

I kick. I hit. I scream.

Still, my face hits the filthy floor, the cold concrete against my face. I feel someone wrapping their fingers around my arm when I close my eyes and throw my arm up to cover my face.

Thin fingers.

"Anthony... help me."

My stomach twists into knots, and I feel the vomit rise up in my throat—a cruel laugh echoes through the building.

"Open your eyes and watch, or I'll carve your sister's eyes out."

I take a long drag of the smoke, lean forward with my elbows on my knees, and let my hands dangle between them as I stare at the gleaming cherry of the cig. I keep the smoke inside my lungs, feeling how it starts to burn.

Why did Cobra do something like this?

The smoke starts to squeeze my lungs, and I let it out with a heavy sigh. "Fuck." I wipe my hand down my face to my chest, rubbing it because it fucking hurts.

The painkillers Doc gave me after stitching up my side, where the bullet grazed me, doesn’t remove the relentless pain in my chest.

Memories try to work their way to the surface, intertwining with the present. I take another long inhale of the cig, dropping my head down and closing my eyes. I'm not going to lose her. She'll be fine.

Doc said she's going to be okay, no permanent damage.

I hear the door opening behind me, someone stepping out on the back porch and closing the door behind them. Keeping my eyes closed, I push the smoke out of my nostrils and run my fingers through my hair.

Someone sits beside me on the top level of the steps, which lead to the backyard, and I smell the familiar dark cologne and smoky whiskey.

"What do you think I should do with her?"

My eyes snap open at Leo's question. I turn my head in his direction, astonished. "You're asking my opinion?"

He looks straight ahead, his legs stretched out on the steps and crossed at the ankles. The black dress shirt is strained around his chest as he leans back on his hands. "Not your opinion." Leo turns his yellowish eyes to mine. "I'm asking for your help."

"Uh." I scrub my hand over my face. "Fuck, I don't know."

His eyes drill into my fucking soul; the gaze is so intense. "As much as I hate to admit it, I think you know her better than I do. What's going on, Tiger?"

I keep my face unreadable.

"She's stressed out."

Well, go figure. But that's all I can say. I could admit to Leo about us, and everything related, but... Cobra would never forgive me. And I need her. We may not be what we were before, but she is still my everything.

After those couple of days of not talking to each other, and then she went out with the Aussie...

Not ever again.

She's fucking mine.

I'll never let her out of my reach again. Years ago, I told her that she's not allowed to hurt herself, and she went and did just that.

"Do you think she needs..." Leo furrows his brows and takes a glance around the yard before continuing. "Professional help?"

"You mean a shrink?"

He nods, looking at me with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Like he’s... helpless.

Fuck.

I clear my throat because I don't know how to answer. It would probably be good for her to talk about her issues to someone but... I'm sure professional confidentiality doesn't apply when it comes to Leo Hayes's daughter. I'm not worried about the cops, no. Leo is the one who'd make the therapist talk, and that doesn't work to Cobra's benefit at all.

If Leo finds out what’s troubling her...

There is a possibility that he'd take her out of the field, and it would make everything worse. She doesn't want to be treated differently.

Cobra wants to be normal.

She's fucking delusional thinking that she could be average, but I'll forgive her. We all live in some sort of bubble every now and then.

I place the end of the cig in the ashtray and clear my throat.

"You know... I don't think it's a good idea." I lift my eyes to Leo. "Let me talk to her. Don't do anything too extreme, okay?"

"But you'll keep me updated. If Cobra acts weird, or she seems like she's going to do something like this again, you will come to me. Understood?"

I nod, trying not to do it too fast. "Yeah, of course. I promise I'll keep an eye on her."

And I'm going do a fuck of a lot more than that.

I listen as Wolf explains what they found out about Wong's business, and like always, he is clear and straightforward. There’s basically no need for questions, but still, Puma interrupts him every minute. It gets on Wolf's nerves, and the vein in his forehead bulges as he tries to keep cool. He is much like Leo, he doesn't lose his shit quickly, but it's a fucking doomsday when it happens. When he starts to sigh and look at the ceiling and tap his foot, I poke Puma's side because he’s sitting beside me.

"Shut up and ask questions later, okay," I hiss at him. Puma glares at me in a way that tells me that he is thinking about smacking me on the head. For his own good, he doesn't.

"As I said." Wolf stretches his neck and sighs. "Wong's second-in-command said that even Wong never met this man, but they knew him by the name of Hunter. Wong had met once with one guy, who was the middleman's middleman. He'd been pulled from the street and paid to deliver something to an address. It was an empty house in a suburb, no one has lived there in years, but there was another address and date left on the table."

Leo leans his elbows on his desk, pressing his fingertips together, and looks at Wolf. "Someone is really making an effort to hide their identity." He pauses for a second and then leans back in his chair. "I need to meet with Romero myself."

"Why Romero? I thought Pronto Muerte didn't know anything," Falcon says and fiddles with her plug. She has stuck her finger through the stretched ear hole, and it looks weird as fuck.

"His guys will snoop around, and I want him to make a deal with this Hunter. Obviously, whoever he is, he is trying to get everyone to work behind my back." A wicked grin spreads to Leo's face. "Let's play his game."

"What about us?" Bear crosses his fingers behind his neck, staring at his father sharply. "Why can't we find the shit out?"

"Everyone knows who we are," Wolf answers his question before Leo has time. "Do you think anyone would make a coke deal with you?"

He has a valid point, and I see from Bear's face that he realizes it too. Leo nods, as if agreeing with Wolf. "Besides, when facing someone who is making this much effort, we need to be extra careful. But, there is something you can do."

Bear grins, his handsome face twisting into a devilish smirk, which makes him look absolutely insane. "The other address?"

Leo nods, unable to hide his amusement at Bear's reaction. I've learned that those two share the same level of bloodthirst. We are all comfortable around chaos and death, and taking someone's life isn't a problem for us, or maybe for Puma, it kind of is, but Leo and Bear are playing on the edge. Well hell, who am I to judge, we're all psychopaths on some level. Each and every one of us.

"It's the cargo, I'm sure. Take care of it. Find out where it came from, and I want every name you can carve out." Leo's face turns brutal as his brows draw together. "I need real names."

Falcon, who shares an almost comparable lust for killing as her brother and father, makes a ballet dancer curtsy with an angelic smile flashing on her face. "And names you shall have, father of mine."

She is just as crazy as her sister, but they share very different kinds of crazy. While Falcon numbs her pain by hurting others, literally, Cobra turns it inside and needs to feel the pain for herself. If there ever comes a day when their mental health reaches the limit… Falcon would fill the ocean with blood, and Cobra would be the one drowning herself in it.

And now… I'm going to find out what the fuck pushed her to the edge and made her try and get herself killed today.