If You Were Ours

Chapter Eight - Dane

Dane ~

I had just finished shaving when I heard Tysons heavy footsteps echo from down the hall. His deep voice was grumbling and muttering curses under his breath which meant he must have had an eventful night.

I followed the angry voice into the kitchen and heard the loud clank of Tysons brass knuckles against the sink basin.

The water in the sink tinged pink as Tyson rinsed blood from his hands and sleeves - blood that wasn't his.

I wonder who was on the business end of those brass knuckles last night? More importantly I wonder if they're still breathing.

"Busy morning?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest as I leaned against the counter.

Tyson scoffed at my question as he aggressively scrubbed at his hands and the bloodied piece of brass in the sink.

"You could say that." He grumbled.

"You just now getting home?" I asked, wondering if he'd been coming and going or if he'd been putting in work on someone's face all night.

"Yeah. Someone ordered a hit on Lorenzo and his wife last night." Tyson grumbled.

"No shit? Your boys intervene?" I asked knowing the hit wasn't successful or else his phone would have been ringing off the hook.

"They did. Called me at about 1am to tell me they'd taken both of the shooters to the warehouse. We've been chatting all morning." Tyson said in a low malicious tone as he balled and flexed his swollen fist.

"They sing for ya?"

"Like a fucking canaries," Tyson grumbled as he leaned into the freezer and grabbed a frozen bag of peas for his knuckles.

"So who ordered the hit?"

"I'll give you one fucking guess." Tyson lowered himself down onto the black leather couch with a thud as he sprawled his legs out, propping one on the table in front of him.

"Angelo?" I suggested, knowing I was correct before I said the name.

"Bingo." Tyson confirmed, dropping his back onto the couch and closing his eyes.

That motherfucker.

"That asshole is spiraling. What the hell is he trying to gain by going after the families other than additional targets on his back?"

"Yeah well one of the dumb bastards that broke into Lorenzo's house was Angelo's cousin so I decided to send him a little message...Let's just say Angelo's cousin won't be acting as a hired gun for him anymore." Tyson said with a lethal tone.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it's hard to pull the trigger of a gun when you don't have any fingers."

Tyson's voice was deep and vicious as he rested his eyes and iced his swollen knuckles.

There was a reason he'd been put in charge of the families security. Tyson was ruthless, positively merciless, and all of our enemies knew it.

"Well I'm about to head up to the club for a few hours, doing some renovations and having some things delivered. You wanna come with?"

"That sounds fucking terrible." Tyson groaned without opening his eyes.

"Ah come on, you might enjoy yourself." I said with a mischievous tone because I knew something that he didn't.

"I said no. I'm fucking exhausted, Man" Tyson snapped, relaxing further into the couch.

"Alright suit yourself."