Torn in two

Chapter 26

"Hey," a soft spoken male voice said from beside me.
I look up, surprised to see my brother.
His tall frame now blocking the sunlight shining down on my warmed skin.
His hair looked disheveled and his brows knitted together.
He looked older.
Stressed.
The creases on his forehead more defined.
How could I not have noticed this before?
My own twin.
I knew something has been off for awhile.... But this?
Some sister I am.
Maybe if I reached out sooner, just maybe, it wouldn't have resulted to this situation.
But I can't think like that.
I was grieving in my own way.
Greg's way was to make something of himself and open the Club in Papa's honor.
Not follow Papa's footsteps and join a weapons wielding, drug smuggling, Cartel. 
I on the other hand, wasn't making a name for myself. I didn't have any goals. I didn't have any aspirations.
I was the sister of Greg.
An employee at Club Inferno.
I didn't own my own house. I still technically  lived with my brother.
Cindy even bought her own place recently.
I wasn't able to financially support myself if I moved out. Even if Greg paid me pretty decently.
I wasn't in a relationship.
And the guy I was seeing was a Miami cop who was working for the Cartel, ran by my brother.
It's as if my life was ripping apart by the seams since my parents death.
I could at least pinpoint that as the starting date my life became a muddled, cloudy mess.
I lost myself.
I didn't know what my purpose was.
And that gave me anxiety when I stopped to think what I wanted.
I was just here.
Here. As close to the Cartel without being a member.  
And for those reasons, I chose to fully open my mind to what Greg had to say.
"Zak told me you might be here," he studied my face before sitting down, my best efforts to not flinch at that name.
He most likely was making sure I wasn't going to yell at him to get away.
I staid silent though.
"I want you to know something. It's been eating away at me for a year," he sat in the sand, leaving some distance between our shoulders.
I silently sat watching him out of the corner of my eye run sand through his fingers.
I knew this was pertaining to our parents.
I brace myself and squeeze my eyes shut.
"I know who did it," I struggle to hear his soft voice over the crashing waves.
But before I could respond, he continues his sentence.
"Once I figured out the truth, I couldn't see straight. I had so much anger. I didn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I studied and memorized his schedule. I formulated a plan to hunt him down. To end him," he twists his fingers together, visibly angry.
I staid quiet allowing him to continue.
"But I wasn't the only one who sought out this guy. See, I understood the possibility of getting caught. Going to jail. I accepted it even. But it didn't occur to me that my actions would leave the Cartel recruiting me."
I finally look towards my brother, who was staring at me. 
I didn't realize I was trembling.
He has said a lot, but so little at the same time. My heart was hammering as my nerves increased the more he admitted.
He scooted closer.
His next words were at a whisper.
"So when I severed the brakes like that piece of shit did to our parents car, I not only succeeded in eliminating a high profile player, but I unknowingly completed a contract placed by the Cartel. This contract apparently has been next to near impossible, so it raised heads. They came to our house the next day. I was so worried they would threaten your safety if I didn't join them and I wanted this all behind me. The cops never figured out who did it, obviously," he waved a hand around his face, wearing the faintest of smug smiles, almost in a sarcastic way.
"The Cartel rewarded me with rank and enough money to open the club. But the guilt was eating me alive. I was now running with a group of men who idolized the very idea of my vengeance. They would constantly describe their own experiences too. So I made a deal with the MPD, guaranteeing your safety—once I provide them the answers they want," he states a matter of fact.
"But what about—" I try to protest.
He did this for our family.
What he did could hardly be justified. And I can only assume he would agree. But in this fucked up world we live in, I don't blame him for seeking revenge.
The mystery of our parents death was not an accident. It was intentional. Someone murdered our parents. And Greg now faced the consequences.
"I'm already aware there's no safety for someone who snitches. But I deserve this outcome. You're all I have left," his voice cracking at the end.
"Wh-who's he?" I shakily ask.
If my heart pounded any harder I wouldn't doubt Greg would hear it over the waves. And any faster I'd surely have a heart attack.
"The Cuban Cartel's right hand man," he spit.
Not a name. As if speaking his name was a curse. Maybe the less information, the better.
"But why did he target Mama and Papa?" I cry.
"That's something I'm still trying to figure out. Papa left his study a mess. I don't think he ever truly got out," referring to the Mexican mafia, Greg solemnly shakes his head.
I didn't pry anymore— for now.
"And Zak?" I gulp, afraid to hear anything more.
"He's actually been undercover for awhile now. Longer than me at least. However the Cartel thinks he's their inside man. Playing the Devil's Advocate if you will," he shrugged.
"So he knows about you? Did he know we were related? Did you show him who I was?When did he figure out you were helping the police?"
"Woah, woah, slow down," he lifts his hands up motioning a finger infront of his lips to shush me.
Im breathing fast. I didn't realize how loud I got. 
"He's on my side that's all you need to know. As for knowing exactly who you were, you'll have to take that up with him," he looked at me quizzically.
I let out a whirl of air.
"Look, I'm sorry," I admit.
"For what?" His eyes widen, shocked.
"That you felt that you had to do this alone. Grieve alone. Fight your demons alone. Face these retributions alone. But I'm here," I reach for his hand closest to me.
Squeezing firmly.
"Even though you're five minutes older than me, I sometimes feel like I'm your big brother," his voice wavers even though he was attempting at a joke.
"I'm serious. Greg let me help," and I meant it.
If he went to the police knowing full well he'd be punished or even worse, killed for betraying the cartel, just for my protection, then I owed him.
And just like that, I found my purpose.