Calloused

20

It had been a few days since I visited H. I couldn't see him, not now. I needed to find Vincent once more. How did he even know we were in the apartment? Someone must have tipped him off. We all had been so careful not to draw attention to ourselves.

"He's been asking for you." My father's voice said, ripping me away from my thoughts.

"It's my fault he and the others are hurt." I sighed. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to calm my mind.

"They did their job. They protected you." My father shook his head.

"If I hadn't been there, I'm sure they would have been dead. It is my fault, I shouldn't have gotten distracted. After all, Vincent wasn't after my head, none of us would be in this situation." I explained. My father was quiet, thinking about my words.

"It's not your fault." He finally said.

"This war has been going on for decades. Far before you, and I. It started with my grandfather's father. They made a wrong call on a particular... business transaction." My father walked over to the liquor counter in the living room and poured two glasses of his favorite whiskey. I had heard this story many times throughout the years, but I always listened to it. It acted as a reminder of how we had gotten to this point.

"Our family double crossed Vincent's family back then, just like I did with him." He sighed, grabbing the two glasses and coming to sit next to me. He wore a pair of black dress pants, nice shoes and a blue button-up.

He handed me a glass before taking a sip of his.

"I took his family from him. So now he wants revenge. To take mine from me." My father frowned. "I admit, back in the day, I was more reckless, careless. I didn't care about the consequences. But now we're all paying for my decisions." He continued to explain. I sat quietly, taking a sip from my glass. My father never told me this part of the story before, this had been new information to me.

"Then I suppose both of us are to blame. All we can do is take him out." I agreed. I always knew deep down I was more like my father than my mother. It probably explained why her and I had such a complex relationship. We were nothing alike. But my father and I had a bond, something dark clung to us like a disease. No matter where we were or who we were, we always attracted trouble.

"Once everyone has recovered, we will attack. I'm going to need as many men as we can spare." He frowned, downing the rest of his drink. "You should go see your men to make sure they are preparing not only physically but mentally as well."

"You're not wrong. We will need them at their best when the time comes. I'll head over to their place now and check in on them." I agreed with my father as I downed my drink. After I set my glass down, I got up and exited the room.

I decided to venture down the stairs and outside. We had several separate houses built for our men, so we'd always have protection on property.

God forbid if anything were to happen.

I strolled through the garden. The warm sensation in my chest brought me comfort. No doubt, the whiskey had helped to take the edge off. The sun had set a while ago, so it was dark out. I walked past a few men who were stationed by the fence line. They stood, watching for anything abnormal.

I greeted them as I passed by. As I followed along the pathway towards the houses, my hand rested on my gun that was on my hip. I wasn't afraid to die, although going out without a fight wasn't in my DNA.

As I approached the first house, I noticed that the lights were on.

I decided to knock on the door. It was eleven, after all. I didn't want to just bardge in, unannounced, with a house full of armed guards. Niall opened the door, a bit surprised to see me.