As Major Perez chased us off with a tomahawk steak after actually KEEPING the gifts we gave him, I felt really good about making him be the temporary caretaker of our Family house—maybe even along with Jesus and his crew—while being our guest of honor at the same time.
I'd probably need more competent people or just straight-up people I could trust that could stay in that place but we were really in a fucking rush to do something about it.
Temporarily closing this chapter in my life, it wouldn't take long before this rush to get home embarked on its final stages.
The drive to our ship wasn't too much trouble or eventful because only a fucking idiot would try to stir up trouble with this armed convoy, especially if they knew that several of its passengers were high-profile individuals.
But yeah, we saw Jesus and Meg waiting for us to arrive by their station wagon, and I got out of my Raptor before I asked my group to park our vehicles inside. But for some reason, the vehicle I won from Mr. Cuervo last time—that Nikolas and co. were using—plus another truck was also parked outside instead of being inside our ship since we're leaving.
'The Impreza's already inside though...'
And as what would always happen while anyone's in a rush, we hit a bit of a snag.
Jesus then approached me as he offered a cigar which I politely pocketed for Oscar's use instead:
"This is it for now, huh?"
"For now? I like that, heh—"
"A little advice on your friends though? Would you mind?"
"Hmm?"
Then his face turned solemn, "I know about the body's ability to remember certain shit when inflicted pain but that Alexander guy's been taking hits nonstop just to make him 'remember' or some bullshit. He did look out of it but he prolly needs someone better than your wife to take care of this," he paused as he pointed at his temple.
"I might need to check on them—"
"They're fine, they're fine... for now, but— Ah, it seems that 'most' of them will be staying behind though. I'll advice against that too..."
I stopped in my tracks, "Most of them?"
"Unfinished business, they said. But the big guy and the dude with the long hair? Mr. Cuervo's doctors could take care of them AND have taken care of them when they got back last time but they need to be away for their sake.
They'll just rush right back because some type of shit started and— scratch that, all of them should be away to stop shit from getting out of hand or else... and that's on you to make it happen. I do promise to check things out over there to see if I could do something but I said my piece, talk to your group to get the whole story from them. They aren't telling me shit for some reason..."
"Haa... Let's go..."
"Why am I guiding you? You know the way..."
"Right..."
It was then that I saw this beat-up guy, "Alexander", who instead of my punching bag, had both hands tied to the noose from where it was hanging. Everyone else was present too—including Dr. Nichols who was standing her ground about treating the person Kuzma and Tatiana were brutally sinking their fists in.
Natasha was the one barring her from interfering with the two but it seemed like it was due to the fact that Dr. Nichols might get hurt because Alexander was still fighting back.
'Mimi's probably still tending to Mikhail and Alexei's wounds...'
And yeah, I've never seen Tatiana like this except for the time that Ilana revealed the name of her benefactor while Kuzma was back to his cock-fighting days, but the one person who looked like he'd murder everyone else once he got the chance was not even Artem, Bogdan, or Nikolas, but still Alexander himself.
I instantly felt the intense killing intent the moment his gaze landed on me, but this dude was baring his fangs on someone he shouldn't even dare look a certain way.
'That's just a declaration of war...'
"Haa~"
Even if Dr. Nichols was still in the midst, everyone just heard a short exhale before the room got increasingly cold but I was directing the whole brunt of it to the last piece of my nesting dolls.
Only a few people could resist or remain standing while every bit of negative emotion was running through my head coupled with copious amounts of murderous intent and they either subconsciously jumped back or fell to their knees—which right now, was only Dr. Nichols, who was further back than everyone else was.
I didn't have the time to throw her out of the room because this fucker wanted to take a bite out of everyone's neck, despite his condition, but he was too fucking out of it to recognize his place.
His whole body was covered in cuts, scratches, and bruises—and he'd probably need more than a dose of painkillers for the pain to go away.
With that said, everyone else had to give way as I took a step forward but as I got closer and closer, he got even more feral as his heavy breathing looked more like a convulsion but the blood and spit coming out of his mouth were making these nasty red foam and bubbles trickle down.
Even his left eye which I could barely see due to the bruising was getting as bloodshot as the other one the more he tried to stare me down. And his wounds? Those that partially healed even started opening up and bled through his beat-up body as he tried to get out of his restraints.
But I just had enough of it when I got into my draw stance, grabbed the handle of my blade, and attempted to cut him "loose" by means of cutting through his lats, his neck, and then straight through his shoulder and his arm despite everyone about to stop me from doing so:
"Trust me—"
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!"