Chapter 4 4

Portia

Gregory is looking at Vincent motionless on the floor, half of Vincent's head missing. He's next. He knows it. I know it. And he begins to whimper as Callahan takes hold of his hair and forces him to look him in the eyes, while my uncle prepares the next shot.

"Where is he?" Callahan asks. Same question.

Gregory drags his gaze from Vincent. He's shaking. My two brothers, both cowards when they're outgunned and outsmarted.

I only wish it lasted longer. They deserve to suffer. Doesn't he know that? Doesn't he want that?

"Where. Is. Fernando?" Callahan asks again. It'll be the last time he asks. I know it.

Gregory glances sideways to Vincent momentarily before shifting his gaze back to Callahan, then to my uncle. He's trembling now. He used to laugh at me when I trembled.

"Please," he begs.

Callahan releases him with a disgusted expression on his face and steps back. I guess he doesn't want to get his nice suit dirty. That alone is the signal my uncle needs to pull the trigger again, killing his other nephew. His godson, this one.

He's never been much of a family man, but I didn't realize he was a killer. Although I'm not surprised. Not one bit.

Callahan's eyes fall on Nathan who is sitting up now, looking dazed, shocked. His head is probably spinning like mine was, jarred awake to witness this scene. This massacre of what remains of his family.

"Bring the boy," Callahan commands. Two soldiers move as if it would take them both to lift my fifteen-year-old tall but scrawny baby brother.

"No!" I'm on all fours then, scrambling toward Nathan, the wedding dress slowing me down.

In my periphery I see my uncle raise his gun and aim at me. Then I see Callahan's hand close over his forearm and point the gun down.

Would he have shot me? God. Would he have shot me, too?

I throw myself between Nathan and the soldiers, spread my arms out Christ-like. "No!"

One comes to shove me out of the way, but Callahan makes a sound. A tsk. The man stops, steps backward. They're like dogs, his soldiers.

Well-trained dogs.

Callahan moves toward me, my uncle on his heels.

"He's a boy!" I scream, pushing my back into Nathan in my attempt to shield him.

"Boys grow up to become men."

"Please. He's only fifteen. He was five when it happened. Five."

My uncle cocks the gun, drawing all my attention.

"Look at me," Callahan says.

I blink.

"Me. Look at me." He steps fully between my uncle and me, so I'm forced to. "How old were you?"

"What?"

"You. How old were you?"

I'm confused. I open my mouth, see my uncle's impatient face move into view beyond Callahan's shoulder.

"Twelve" I say to Callahan, forcing myself to block my uncle out.

"One of my brothers was twelve. The other eleven."

"We didn't...Nathan and I.." I shake my head, panicked as I see Gregory and Vincent's bodies. Unable to block them out. "We weren't part of that."

"Hmm. But you would marry that Fernando bastard?"

"What?" It takes me a moment to process. "You think I had a choice?"

His response is a grunt but it's something.

"Did you notice the fucking door you broke down was locked? That I was locked in?"

"The boy," he says calmly to his soldier, opposite my frantic tone. He holds my gaze as he speaks.

"No!" I'm on my feet and lunging for the soldier in the blink of an eye, fingers like claws, nails digging into flesh. But big hands grab me from behind and peel me off.

Callahan turns me to face him and I get one good scratch down his face before he can stop me. He mutters a curse as he twists my arms behind my back, gripping both wrists in one hand. With the other, he fists a handful of hair half in-half out of the twist Amma had just pinned my mother's veil into. He forces my head backward making me look up at him.

"Please. Not him," I plead, tears finally coming. "Please."

He studies me, eyes narrowing.

"He's a boy. Just a boy," I try.

"Like I said, boys grow up to become men."

He releases me and gestures to my uncle with a nod. My uncle moves. Nathan's up on his feet, back pressed to the wall.

I drop to my knees at Callahan's feet, hugging his legs as he's half-turned away. "Please. God. Please don't kill him. Please!"

The gun is cocked. The echo is deafening. It's surreal what's happening and all I can think is, we're all going to die. He's going to kill is all.

But when I look up, I find Callahan staring down at me with a look I can't quite name. Disbelief? Curiosity? Confusion?

I open my mouth to beg again. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just please " my voice breaks.

My uncle mutters something, some sound of annoyance as he steps forward.

"Stop," Callahan says.

I stare up at Callahan.

He lays his hand on my head and I feel a glimmer of hope.

"Callahan," my uncle starts after a moment of silence. I can hear irritation in his voice. "You need to kill them both. Like you said, boys grow to be men and she's a liability. Bear in mind, they didn't spare your mother."

I see from here how Callahan's jaw clenches. How the hand at his side fists. He turns his head slowly toward my uncle.

"Maybe I should kill you too, then. Just to be sure." His words are a whisper. A hiss. The threat is unmistakable.

Someone chuckles. It's the casually dressed man. The sound is so out of place. When I look at him, he meets my eyes. Inside, I see hate. He hates me. Probably hates all of us.

I turn back to the two before me and see my uncle's throat work as he swallows. It dawns on me. He's afraid of Callahan.

But hell, who wouldn't be?

Callahan shifts his attention back to me and he does something strange. Unexpected. He rubs the bump on the back of my head like he's just noticing it.

When I stagger to my feet, he lets me. I go to my brother and take his hand.

My cousin is crying. My gentle, non-problematic. He was born into the wrong family. How Vincent would have taunted him for his tears.

I look at Vincent's body. See how that dark stain on his pants is bigger. He pissed himself in fear. And he got better than he deserved.

When I look back at Callahan, he's watching me.

"Clean this up, Heathcliff," he tells my uncle then moves toward the exit. "Get them off my island."

Island? Where the fuck are we?

"I don't want their bodies on my land," Callahan finishes.

He stops before exiting and turns to glance at me once more. Then, directs his attention to a soldier.

"Put the boy under guard in another cell and bring the girl."

My uncle follows him to the door, grabs his arm to stop him.

"This isn't what we said. What we agreed."

Callahan stops, looks down at where my uncle is touching him. Looks back at his face.

My uncle lowers his gaze, drops his hand and moves back.

Callahan steps toward him, his body, his whole being a threat. "You do as I say. Period."

My uncle nods.

Callahan turns his back on him.

"Bring the girl," he barks at the soldier and walks away.