Owned by a Sinner

by A G Henderson

  “Tanner’s been doing some more digging.” A lead ball settled in my gut, and for good reason. “The leader of the men who kept me? Santino?” She pulled out her phone and opened it onto a picture before passing it to me. “Carlos is his son.”

  I held the screen up to my face, noting the olive skin, sharp features, and amber eyes staring back at me.

  A memory hit me like a freight train. One from the day we raided that fucker’s home and went room by room, killing everyone that Sylvia had pointed out. Every single bastard that had had a hand in her abuse.

  That day, and the lack of survivors from it, had been part of what really put us on the map as a force to be reckoned with. It let people know that Oakdale was ours and to go against us was a death sentence.

  But there had been survivors. Particularly, three boys I hadn’t thought much of at the time, other than one of them showing some promise by trying to protect the others. Days had passed before Sly had admitted that the little defender was Santino’s son, and by then, they had been in the wind.

  At least until now.

  The version I remembered clashed with the one in the picture, but the eyes were the same, and I wondered how thoroughly he was following in his piece of shit father’s footsteps.

  No good deed goes unpunished.

  I wasn’t going to lie. I barely managed to pass her phone back to her before I had a fit of epic proportions. Every curse I knew came flying out of my mouth while Sly lapsed back into her usual silence. By the time I was done, I was breathing hard, but nothing had changed.

  She knew it.

  I knew it.

  I couldn’t take this from her. Not even for her own good.

  “Fine,” I barked sometime later. “But you’re still going in that hospital.”

  I followed her back through the automatic doors, up the elevator, towards the room they had moved Lizzy to. Half a dozen heads rose as we walked into the room and my eyes instantly found Caitlin sitting in the large windowsill. I crossed to her, pulling her into my arms, and let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding onto as Sylvia approached Tex and Lizzy.

  Maybe I couldn’t control everything. But I could control this. And in this moment, we were all together.

  Fuck anyone who dared to come between that.

  The End

  Author’s Note

  Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear what you thought about Owned by a Sinner. If you have a few moments to leave a review, it would be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed reading another one of their stories as much as I enjoyed writing it. Keep turning the page for chapter one of Saved by a Sinner.

  CHAPTER 1 - Carlos

  Twelve years ago

  “God damn it! Are you listening to me, mijo?”

  I wasn’t listening. My head was filled with a fog I couldn’t find my way through. My ears were ringing from the near constant rapports of gunfire, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Uncle Hugo.

  He was slumped in the middle of the hall, part of his face missing. Bits and pieces of bone and gore had splashed the wall behind him, turning the large family portrait into something ghastly. A particularly slimy piece of something red I didn’t recognize slid slowly down the painting to dangle precariously on the edge. There, it finally fell to the hardwood floor with a wet plop.

  I felt uncomfortable heat crawling over me with needle-like fingers. My stomach turned over, saliva flooding my mouth as bile rose up the back of my throat. I barely managed to turn away from my dad in time to lose my breakfast all over the floor in a hot rush that left me coughing on the taste, even as it burned my nose from the inside out. Dimly, I stared down at my own mess, realization creeping up on me as I took in the pieces of this morning’s pancakes, eggs and sausage that hadn’t digested yet.

  This is all wrong.

  School was starting and I wasn’t there. My brothers and I were halfway through our freshman year of high school. My attendance was perfect, and we had a quiz today. But instead of being kicked back in my seat, ready to ace it, I was still at home.

  And my family was dying.

  So, so wrong.

  My eyes slid sideways, landing on Uncle Hugo again. I hunched in on myself as my stomach tried another revolt, but there wasn’t anything left. I gagged on nothing before wiping the trail of spit with my arm, trying to find the strength to stand back upright.

  Before I could, a rough grip on my shoulder spun me around and slammed me back into the wall. My head knocked painfully against the plaster and my vision fuzzed. When it cleared, I was staring into Dad’s face, purple with rage. A lock of his perfectly styled black hair had fallen across his face and someone’s blood was streaked across his olive-skinned cheek.

  “Get it together, Carlos!” He raged, slamming me backwards again.

  My shoulder hit something mounted on the wall and the pain was sharp and intense. I sucked a quick breath between my teeth but I knew better than to say anything about it. I was already standing in a rancid puddle of my own weakness, the number one quality he despised.

  “I trained you better than this!” A gunshot went off down one of the many corridors of our sprawling house and we both flinched. “Take this. Defend yourself.”

  He shoved his gun into my hands and pulled another from the holster in his suit jacket. Practice kept me from mistakenly shooting myself with it as I woodenly checked the safety and put my finger outside the trigger guard. There was something wrong, still. It lacked all the familiarity I was used to from handling it on the range. It felt heavier. Full of awful promise.

  Two sweaty bodyguards came sprinting around the corner, breathing hard. One was tall, almost as tall as Dad and I but with twice my meager muscle mass. He had a twisted scar going from the corner of his eye and down the side of his face. The other was only a bit shorter, with brows like giant caterpillars sitting high on his forehead. Their eyes went from Dad to me, moving on to the gun hanging limply by my side, then down to my mess on the floor. My neck prickled with heat but I puffed my chest up, trying not to look as small their combined disdain was making me feel.

  Bushy took his position, watching the way they had just come from. He stepped carelessly into a shallow pool of blood and the squish made me shudder. Scar engaged my dad. I watched quietly, folding my arms behind my back and pinching myself with my free hand.

  I’ll never skip church again if I can wake up from this nightmare.

  But the nightmare stayed firmly in place.

  “We need to move, señor. We’re almost surrounded and the four who initially infiltrated are slippery as eels. If we’re going to get out of here, we-”

  I winced as Dad smacked the man full on across the face, the sound terribly loud.

  He stepped into the bodyguard’s space, poking his fingers into the man’s chest. When he spoke, his accent was thicker than I’d heard it since Manny threw a baseball through his bedroom window.

  “No fucking hillbilly gringos are going to come into my home and force me to leave. I want these sons of bitches dead, do you hear me? Dead! And I want their bodies so that I can piss on their fucking corpses.”

  Scar maintained his composure, despite the spittle that flew into his face. I knew my dad was a powerful man. One people didn’t dare cross. But it was times like this I realized the benefits of being the one who held the power.

  Except today, with all that was going on, it also raised another question.

  If he had so much power, then who were the men forcing him to run scared through our home?

  “Santino. Señor. Por favor.” Scar shared a brief glance with his partner. “Once we get you to a safe location, we can fight back. But this whole place is compromised. They’re everywhere.”

  Bushy leaned out, looking down the hall, and he fired suddenly, the bang deafening. He threw himself back into cover a moment before more shots sounded, placing neat holes in the same bloody painting which had caught my eye before. He cursed, slamming his fist into the wall as the barr
age continued. “Go!” He screamed at his partner, holding his gun around the corner and firing back blindly.

  Scar’s calm didn’t collapse completely but a fresh round of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  Dad turned and started hurrying down the other end of the hall, leaving Scar and I to quickly fall in behind him. The fog in my head eased up as we came to another intersection, one I recognized. Left would lead deeper into the house, towards Dad’s study. Right would take us towards the outhouse and then the garage. Once we got there, everything would be okay. I knew it. Every vehicle we rode in on a day to day basis was armor plated. All we had to do was round up my brothers, get inside one of those cars and-

  I blinked. “My brothers.” I barely heard my own weak voice over the ringing in my ears. I tried again.

  “Dad!” My voice cracked and he turned from his heated discussion with Scar to look at me, already snarling. “Manny and Isaac.”

  He cursed and looked around as if they would be sitting in plain sight.

  “There’s no time to look for them,” Scar said coldly. “They could be anywhere.”

  Red hot anger filled me, simmering towards rage. He couldn’t be serious. There was no way we were leaving here without them. No way in hell.

  My hand holding the gun trembled with fury. The same fire raging in my chest urged me to step forward, raise the barrel, and point it in his direction. To threaten him into helping me find them and get them the fuck out of this warzone. I lifted the weapon an inch, then two, my other hand coming around to steady the base as I had been taught. Scar wasn’t paying any attention to me.

  “Carlos!” My blood froze at my dad’s shout, hands dropping immediately. “Find them and meet us in the garage.”

  I stared at him in shock. “You’re leaving us?”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Have I raised nothing but fucking weaklings?” he screeched, veins in his neck standing out. “I’m not surprised your half brothers ended up being a waste of sperm. How could they be anything else when my first born is this much of a pussy?”

  Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I tipped my head back slightly, willing them not to fall.

  His snarl turned more vicious. “And now you’re going to cry. Fucking perfect. You’re thirteen. Old enough to be a man where I come from. And you’re going to cry?”

  “Señor, I don’t think-”

  There was a flash of silver in the corner of my eye.

  A loud rapport sounded right as the back of Scar’s head exploded outwards in a red bloom. I fell backwards into the other hall, nearly dropping the gun as I scrambled. I watched his body crumple like someone had cut the strings holding him up. When I could tear my eyes away long enough to look up, Dad was halfway down the other hall, his back to me.

  No. He can’t just leave.

  I opened my mouth to call out to him, but he was already disappearing around another corner without so much as a backwards glance.

  Just like that, I was alone.

  But no, no that wasn’t right.

  He wouldn’t just leave me.

  Leave us.

  He’s going to get backup, I told myself, unsteadily getting to my feet. I need to find my brothers and protect them until he gets back.

  There. I had a plan. If I followed the plan, everything would be okay. But I needed to get away from this spot before the people who killed Scar and his partner came for me.

  Heart in my throat, I turned and ran the opposite direction of the body, flinging open doors as I went along.

  “Isaac? Manny?”

  I repeated the same thing each time I stopped, only ducking into rooms long enough to be sure they weren’t hiding. When the doors ran out, I continued on the path towards the study. We all liked to hang out in his office when we could get away with it, simply because we weren’t supposed to be in there.

  I put my hand against the heavy door, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. If they weren't here, I would have to check upstairs. No part of me wanted to go up there. This whole horror show had started up there, with the force of an explosion rocking the house followed by shattering glass.

  Please be in here.

  My hand gripped the cold metal of the doorknob, twisting slowly and meeting resistance. Locked. Hope sprang up in my chest and I pressed myself against the door.

  “Isaac? You in there? Manny?” I rattled the knob, hoping to get their attention. “Hermanos, please. It’s me. If you’re in there, let me in.”

  I cast a glance back the way I came, painfully aware death could come around the corner at any moment.

  “Carlos?” A soft voice called from inside, obviously terrified. “That’s really you? What’s going on out there? Where’s Dad?”

  “It’s me. I swear!” I forced a calm into my tone I didn’t feel. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough for Dad, but I would be strong enough for them. “I need you to open the door and I’ll explain everything.”

  A crack appeared in the doorway and I forced it open, practically throwing myself inside.

  My brothers tossed question after question my way but I held up a hand, cutting them off and searching the room before I knew what I was looking for. My eyes landed on the tall dresser in the corner. I tucked the gun in the back of my jeans and moved towards it. “Help me with this.” I pulled, barely budging it by myself. Swear to God, I’ll never leave the gym if I make it out of this alive. “Get over here and help me! We don’t have much time.”

  We were breathing hard by the time we blocked the door. The moment it was done, I collapsed onto the carpeted floor, exhaustion catching up with me. Isaac sat down beside me, chewing his nails, dark blonde hair messy. Manny paced along one wall, arms folded, shooting nervous glances at the door. I didn’t blame him.

  “Dad’s coming for us, right?”

  “Of course he is.” I couldn’t meet Manny’s eyes while I lied through my teeth, mouth tasting like ash. “Once he gets some backup, he’ll be here. We’ll be fine.”

  Backup. Who am I kidding?

  Dad only knew how to look out for himself. This wasn’t news. I couldn’t remember the last time he had cared about any of us, beyond whether we might’ve been making him look bad. But I was the big brother. I was to blame for being dumb enough to to along with his whims for so long. Now he was gone, and so was my sense of direction. I looked around the room hopelessly, searching for a nicer truth where there wasn’t one to be found. The next few moments would decide whether we lived or died, and I was aimless. Drifting. Weak.

  Never again.

  If we got out of here-

  No.

  When we got out of here, I would be strong. Ruthless. Calculating. No one would ever make me cower in a room and lie to my family again, because I wouldn't be caught unaware twice.

  The door knob twisted violently. My brothers froze, the same way I had earlier. Not this time. I was done following. I would blaze my own path and make my own decisions. The first of which being we weren’t dying today.

  I stood, grabbing the gun. Manny and Isaac looked at it, then at me. I raised a finger to my lips. “Behind the desk,” I told them.

  Whoever was out there didn’t bother turning the knob again. There was a loud bang and the whole door rattled in its frame. Another blow and the dresser actually scooted towards me, drawers sliding out and falling to the ground in disarray. Then they started coming faster.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  A hinge fell to the ground, useless.

  “Behind the desk, now!” I whispered urgently, and my brothers finally snapped into motion. They dove behind cover, heads peeking out before I waved them down.

  I raised the pistol, then my voice. “If you come through that door, I’ll shoot.”

  The pounding stopped abruptly, the sudden silence deafening. My own breathing echoed in my head. Cold sweat beaded at the base of my spine and I shifted from foot to foot.

  “We’re comin’
in this door,” a deep voice rumbled. “If you’re armed, I suggest you put that shit on the ground.”

  “Stay out!”

  “Not gonna happen.” Another blow shook the frame and it opened wide enough for me to see a shape looking in. “The fuck. You’re just a kid.”

  “Is he in there or not?” This voice wasn’t quite as deep as the first, but it was twice as angry.

  “Relax, brother. He can’t escape.”

  Jesus. Three of them? I felt our chances of getting out of this slipping away and I didn’t know how to hold onto them.