NCT Ten | Mafia

Pains

 Ten's P.O.V

Two days later

The decision to keep Layla's old man alive and work with a cop and all that might've been easy for a better man than me. A no-brainer. Kids rescued. Faith in the system. No more violence. Layla happy.

I'm not that man.

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to let loose on her father. It took everything in me not to drive over to that strip mall at top speed, get those kids out, and drive my fist into the men's faces over and over and over again—enough so that there would be no faces left to pound. It would've felt amazing. I'd promised my guys vengeance. I wanted it, too.

I'm their leader, though. I got them out of that shithole, and somewhere deep down in my miserable self, I knew this was the way forward. So I held off. Buttoned down all my darkness.

Wasn't easy, but I didn't let my guys know that. They needed to see one hundred percent confidence. They needed to believe. And they did. They followed me, even in this.

It took almost twenty-four hours for Layla's dad to get that meeting with Uncle JB. He called him up, told him there was trouble, and JB couldn't get away until the next day.

Whatever JB said on that wire that Layla's dad wore, it was enough to get a search warrant...three hours later. So that was twenty-seven long hours of my guys looking at me sideways, all of us knowing those kids were down there, miserable. And we weren't doing a damn thing to help them, aside from making sure visitors weren't arriving.

Wonwoo actually helped with that—he had a utility crew and a police cruiser set up at the place across the alley, making it look like an issue with that warehouse there. The official presence scared the lowlifes off and served as an excuse for why the ones my guys intercepted never showed.

Those were long fucking hours, though. But sometimes when I really got silent and clear inside myself, I could feel it was right, deep down. And when I'd look into Layla's eyes, I could find it there, too. I could be better for her.

We cooked pasta while we waited. Kun and Yuta tried to get her into playing Destiny 2, their latest video game addiction, but mostly we stayed in bed, Layla and I.

I thought about Winwin a lot. When we were first out of that basement, I didn't understand why he went the way he did, working toward his vet degree and healing animals instead of making guys pay. We'd give him so much shit for playing the game. But now when I look at him, I think he got himself free in a way we didn't.

Layla once said I was still down in that basement, that I never left. Maybe she was onto something.

Not that I plan on strapping on a necktie anytime soon—or ever—but maybe I don't need to go killing everyone I hate. Baby steps.

Layla's dad managed to persuade JB to reconvene the old gang at some club in East Franklin they all belong to. A place where they all feel safe and in control.

Brooke's dad gave JB some bullshit story Rivera cooked up that there's some guy peddling information on Johnny and the prison break—shit that could get us all locked up.

So that's where the takedown will happen. Wonwoo wanted us to steer clear of that entire part of the city.

Yeah right.

We really wanted to be there when those kids got pulled out, but Wowoo talked us out of it. He promised we could see them, but the social workers have some special protocol that's best for the boys. Something better than a bloodbath and a blazing inferno. Who knew.