Chapter 57: Killed his own brother
Hassan’s Mustang screeched to a halt in front of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Lewis Center. The structure, a skeleton of concrete and rusted steel, loomed under an ink-black sky, its shattered windows like empty eye sockets. The air reeked of oxidized metal and rancid oil, a frigid wind whistling through the cracks.
Hassan stepped out, leaving Kara in the car, his leather jacket gleaming under a flickering streetlamp. He leaned against the hood, his Glock tucked into his belt, and checked his phone. Messages from the group—Hugo, Ben, Yuki, Kaiser—flashed, full of speculation and the shit he’d been through.
"So, as I thought, Hugo’s an Alpha..."
His mind was still focused on the Medusa Piece and Die Hand im Schatten. He growled, ignoring their messages. Tonight, he’d settle this mess.
Kara, inside, lit a cigarette, the smoke curling out the cracked window. Her tattoos—snakes and skulls—seemed to dance in the pale light, her predator’s gaze fixed on Hassan. She chewed gum, her nonchalant attitude masking lethal tension.
The silence was shattered by the rumble of engines. Five black SUVs emerged, their headlights piercing the darkness. Men in dark suits, armed with assault rifles, stepped out, their faces impassive. Then, a figure in a white djellaba appeared, a wide smile splitting his swarthy face. "Hassan, my brother!" he called, his syrupy voice dripping with falseness. "It’s been so long!"
Hassan clenched his teeth, his hazel eyes flashing. "Can’t say the same, Amir." His half-brother, that arrogant bastard, was here to stir up trouble, as always. Amir, their father’s favored heir. He had a knack for getting under Hassan’s skin. His serpentine smile, his theatrical manners—everything about him stank of provocation.
Amir stepped forward, his guards forming a menacing circle. "So, little brother, where’s the Medusa Piece?" His gaze slid to the Mustang, landing on Kara, who blew a smoke ring. "And who’s this... lady?" He snickered, shaking his head. "Hassan, Father won’t approve of this kind of company. An emo girl? Really?"
Kara, impassive, spat out her gum, a smirk on her lips. Hassan growled, drawing his Glock. "Relax, Amir. You’re not leaving to tell him anything."