Bloodlines and Bullets

prolog / author's note

"You're saying Asher was the only one who remained alive for a time after the attack?" I ask. My voice doesn't rise. It doesn't need to. It's the kind of quiet that makes men flinch.

Dr. Mallard nods, slow. "Yes, precisely," he says. His voice is tight, strained. Good. He should be nervous.

"Benjamin and Dante suffered fatal gunshot wounds to the head and heart. Edoardo was killed with a knife through the eye." His words are flat, clinical. Like he's reading the weather.

He pauses.

"But Asher's injuries were different. A deep abdominal wound. Massive blood loss. He lasted longer."
"They all had broken ribs. Bruises. Signs of a fight. But Asher... he fought to stay alive."

Antonio steps forward, his tone clipped. "What caliber was used to shoot?"

Mallard's brows furrow. He rifles through the report, confusion tightening his face.

"...The bullets used on Benjamin and Dante - they were fired from their own guns," he says, eyes wide, voice nearly a whisper.

I stare at him. Let the silence stretch until he squirms.

"You're telling me their own weapons were used to kill them?" My voice is low, but laced with ice. "And you're just now telling me this?"

Mallard pales. He stammers, trying to explain. "I—I'm sorry, Don. When you returned, you were... occupied with the girl. I only checked the major findings. I didn't think—"

"That's right," I cut in coldly. "You didn't think."

He fumbles with the papers like they'll protect him. They won't.

"I—it slipped my mind. I swear, I didn't mean to—"

He flips to another page and stops. Freezes.

I see it before he speaks. The dread on his face.

"What now?" I snap.

"T-the knife..." His voice cracks.

"Use your goddamn words," I hiss.

"The knife that killed Edoardo. It was Asher's."

The room stills.

No. He wouldn't. Not Asher. But doubt creeps in like smoke.

"Doc," Antonio says, his voice steel, "what the fuck are you saying?"

Mallard's voice quivers, but he presses on. "At first I thought maybe the attackers used their weapons. But the wounds, the angles, the blood patterns... it doesn't line up. They turned on each other. They fought. They killed each other."

My jaw clenches. I feel it like a crack in stone.

"All four of them were loyal," I say. Not to reassure him. To remind myself. "They wouldn't turn on each other."

"I know," Mallard says, voice barely audible. "But the evidence says otherwise. To be specific... Benjamin, Dante, and Edoardo were killed by Asher. And Asher - he was stabbed by Benjamin. His blood was all over Benjamin's knife."

"Why would he do it?" Antonio mutters.

"There's more," Mallard says. His voice is haunted now. "There were medical dressings on Asher. Someone tried to save him. Someone with training. Compressing the wound. Stabilizing him."

He swallows hard.

"There was a fifth person."

Antonio's eyes narrow. "Why would Asher keep fighting after a gut wound like that? How could he still aim precisely enough to kill?"

"Adrenaline," I say, because I've seen what desperation looks like. "And maybe rage."

I turn away, jaw tight, mind already turning, calculating.

"But why?" I ask aloud. "Why betray everything? Who twisted them like this?"

Antonio is quiet a moment. Then: "Maybe they were blackmailed. Maybe they thought they had no choice. Or maybe it's something worse."

I glance at him. We both know where this ends up.

"She knows something," I say. "The girl. She's connected to this."

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. We'll get it out of her. One way or another.

I turn back to Mallard, letting the silence thicken. Then I lean in, just close enough for him to feel it.

"Next time," I say softly, "you don't wait. You come to me the moment you see something. Or I'll make sure you never see anything again."

His mouth opens, then closes. He nods.

"Yes, Don. I understand."

"Good."

Antonio and I rise. One look is all it takes for him to follow.

As we leave the office, the room behind us feels smaller. Emptier. The hallway is cold, sterile, but it doesn't matter. My mind is elsewhere now. Already hunting.

Antonio speaks as we walk, his voice low. "There's something dangerous happening inside our own house."

I nod once, slow and deliberate.

"Do you think the girl knows?"

I don't look at him when I answer.

"I don't care if she does. She'll talk."

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Hello friends,

This is going to be my first story, and I'm open to critique and feedback! I really hope you can help me make this story better.

All the language translations have been done with Google Translate. Please feel free to provide the correct translations in the comments!

Thank you!

Your votes are greatly appreciated and will let me know if you enjoyed my story!

TW: This story contains:

abuse,
blood,
death,
rape,
sex,
sexual assault,
violence,

If you still want to read it but prefer to skip chapters with certain topics, feel free to DM me, and I'll let you know which ones are safe to read.

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