The Invincibles-KTH FF (BOOK II)

-FORTY FOUR-

"Go cut off someone's finger."

"I'll make you a necklace." I laughed as her face bunched up in horror. Gathering my jacket, I walked out the door to find Suho already waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

"Do they know?" I asked as we descended. It had been no less than four hours since Taehyung gave the order. We were out numbered, obviously, but that didn't matter if they were too hung-over to fight. Heading out the backdoor, I met Yoongi and Jimin, along with other fuckers; six to thirteen wasn't that bad. All of them had been with us for years, but worked mostly in the streets, keeping an ear out for any dealers who might be skimming us—or worse, talking—then they came to me. I didn't trust them enough to allow them to spend too much time with either Y/N or Taehyung.

"All they know is that we're hurting some people," Suho replied.

Nodding, I looked them over quickly before pulling out my gun. "The men who pulled out guns on the Bosses, they don't get to see the light of morning. Kill them quietly. If anyone gets in your way, dispose of them as well. Any questions?"

None of them spoke, two pulled out knives, and others guns before leaving. I watched them retreating into the dimming darkness like monsters from the depths of hell.

Breathing in the wet grass and the fresh air, I looked up at Dongwoo's home to find Eunha staring down at me. She winked before closing the window.

Stalking forward like the monsters before me, I couldn't help but think about what a lucky man I was, how revered our family was, and I couldn't wait to share that greatness with any child we had. Walking forward against the howling winds, I stared at the flame shining through the window of Old Man Doyle's home. It was the only thing that really made his home stand out from the rest of the broken down buildings. When we were kids and Taehyung, Jin, and I would come visit Dongwoo, and we would always find him here; smoking and drinking himself into a coma with a deck of cards in front of him.

No matter how hard Taehyung had tried to sit in that room with us, he couldn't. The smoke hurt his lungs so badly he would have to leave. Dongwoo would tell him to stop lingering where he didn't belong, and Old Man Doyle laughed each time, telling Jin and I how we needed to teach our brother how to be a man.

"Taehyung is never going to amount to anything, boys. It's a sad fact that sometimes not all men are not created equal, sometimes the weak fight and then die off."

Neither of them knew it, but I saw Taehyung at only twelve years old, standing at the door. He had gone out just to take a breath and came back to prove himself. With a haunted look in his eyes, I watched a part of him die. Through the fog of smoke, he met my gaze and I knew he would never forget. He walked out the door, pretending he was never there to begin with.

"I was expecting Taehyung." Old Man Doyle sat across the poker table with a cigar in his mouth and his pistol on the table.

Walking forward, I took a seat at the table. "This is below my brother's pay grade."

"And not yours?" he snickered, dealing out cards for me.

"I'm doing this as a gift to my cousin, no payment required," I replied, grabbing the cards.