What a nice house, almost nostalgic, it reminds me of Amy’s place. I could almost feel her presence here—her warmth. God, how I miss her. But now’s not the time for memories. I needed to stay focused. I headed into the kitchen, rummaging through random drawers, hastily flipping through their contents, hoping to stumble upon some memorabilia or clue. I needed to confirm one thing, and that was whether Oren was still safe. If I could verify that, I’d know for sure the new recruit was lying. I had already studied a picture of the guy—could be Damon. Of course, the guy in the picture looked far more muscular, confident, and definitely more attractive than that scrawny little runt Damon had been. But something didn’t sit right with me. I searched through one last cabinet with mounting frustration. Damn it! This kitchen was a complete waste of time—nothing here of value, nothing to give me what I needed. With a sigh, I shut the last drawer and turned my focus elsewhere. Alright, I thought, next stop: the living room.

In the living room, a phone caught my eye, sitting right there on a table in the center of the room. I bet it belonged to that brat. As I approached it, I couldn’t help but smirk—this idiot had left it on. Perfect. Now I could dig into the texts between him and Oren, confirm if Oren was really in the hospital or hurt. If anything serious had happened, there was no way they wouldn't mention it. I picked up the phone and swiped through the app list, quickly finding the text messages. I clicked on the conversation with "Dad" which had to be Oren. I began scrolling through their texts, expecting to see some evidence of Oren being in trouble, something that would verify the story I had been fed. The messages were disappointingly mundane, though—discussing MMA practice, dinner plans, schoolwork. Just typical father-and-son stuff. Jesus, I really just crippled a high schooler. A pang of regret hit me, but I shoved it down. It’s his own fault for fighting back. I didn’t have to hurt him, but I couldn’t exactly leave him unscathed after that fight. I kept scrolling, finally reaching texts from about a month ago. This was when the new recruit claimed Oren was found nearly dead by his family. Yet, nothing seemed to corroborate that story. Instead, I found something strange—Oren had texted his son, "They won’t ever bother us anymore." There it is. That new recruit, if not Damon himself, was clearly someone conspiring against us.

I got what I needed. I tossed the phone behind me, hearing it thud as it hit the floor. Without a second glance, I stepped outside the house, but my legs wobbled beneath me, nearly sending me face-first into the dirt. My injuries were starting to catch up with me. I steadied myself and glanced back at the kid lying in his blood, the dark pool spreading slowly beneath him. Something gnawed at me. Should I… get him help? I had always known I wasn’t exactly a good person. Hell, some might even call me evil. So why should it matter if this kid died? My fingers twitched as I stood there, caught in an unexpected moment of hesitation. No, it wouldn’t matter. Death was just part of the game. If he couldn’t handle it, that was on him. Breathing out, I watched in confusion as my breath misted in the air. Why? It’s scorching out here. I made my decision. If the kid survived, then he deserved to live. If he didn’t, that was his fate. I turned and headed down the trail, my steps slower but more determined now. It was time to bait out that new recruit and settle things once and for all.

An hour later..

I muttered under my breath, without even realizing, "Darn it, Tony. Turn on your phone for once." Oren, sitting next to me, glanced over and asked, "He hasn't responded to your texts? That's a bit weird. Eh, his phone is probably dead." I turned the wheel, guiding us down another street. "Was I speaking aloud?" I asked, surprised at myself. "Yeah." Oren confirmed with a small chuckle. I sighed, needing to break that habit. "Well, yeah. I texted him to ask what he wanted from the store, but he didn’t respond. Probably nothing." Oren, ever the cautious one, frowned. "Hold on, let me check the CCTV." Such a worrywart, even more than me sometimes. Maybe it’s because Tony’s the only one in the family who has a real shot at professionally debuting in the UFC. Oren fished out his phone and tilted it sideways to start reviewing the footage. Halie, who had been quiet the whole time, remained eerily silent in the backseat. I kept driving, the atmosphere around us growing tenser.

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A few minutes later, we were nearing the house, and Oren had been glued to the footage for a while now. Just as I thought he was done, he suddenly stiffened. His whole demeanor changed. Without a word, he started making a phone call. I only caught snippets of the conversation, but his tone was urgent. Then he turned to me, his voice sharp with alarm. "Get to the house, now." "What’s the problem?" I asked, still not fully grasping the situation. Oren's voice cracked as he yelled, "Tony was attacked by someone with an axe! I’m calling the—" He cut himself off, ending the call abruptly. "the paramedics." Tony?! I floored the gas pedal, pushing the car to its limits. We sped down the road, ignoring the other cars. All that mattered was getting to Tony. I looked back at Halie in the rearview mirror. "Hold on, sweetie!" Everything else became a blur as I focused solely on getting home, praying Tony was still alive by the time we arrived.

The house’s front door was wide open, and a body lay crumpled near the porch. My heart stopped. Oh, God, Tony! I floored the gas pedal one last time before drifting the car to a screeching halt right in front of the house. Hands shaking, I turned off the car and scrambled out, rushing to him. Tony lay there in silence, blood pooling around him, his body bruised and battered beyond recognition. It was like the world itself had collapsed around me. Who would want to do this to him? My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but nothing did. It was just chaos, grief, and horror all at once. Oren was already there, holding Halie, shielding her eyes from the horrific scene as he hurriedly took her inside. His face was pale, his jaw clenched, but he remained calm, at least for her sake.

In the distance, I heard a siren wail, getting louder by the second. Oh, thank God, they're coming. But even that didn’t calm me. The relief felt distant and insignificant. Nothing could soothe me. My baby… my son… lying motionless like this. I hovered over Tony, desperate to do something—anything—to help. Should I touch him? Should I move him inside? But what if that only makes things worse? I sobbed uncontrollably, helplessness overwhelming me. All I could do was stand there, crying, knowing that in this moment, all I had to offer him was so little.

Two hours later..

Tony was airlifted by a life flight, taken to the best hospital in Texas. He wasn’t dead, but unconscious. At this point, I could only hope for a coma. Aroha left with Halie inside the helicopter, clinging to a shred of hope. I stayed behind, slumping onto the couch as authorities cordoned off the house with yellow caution tape and began their search for evidence. An officer approached me, his voice firm yet cautious. "Sir, I need you to vacate the premises and find somewhere else to stay for the night. You have somewhere to go, right?" I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing into a glare that made him step back slightly. I rose from the couch lazily, feeling my exhaustion mix with anger. "Yeah, I do." I muttered, brushing past him and heading outside.

Where Tony’s body had once laid, there was now only a chalk outline, with officers still collecting evidence around it. The sight made my blood boil. I stood there, staring at the remnants of the attack, my fists clenching tighter with each passing second. The anger swelled up inside me, radiating off me like lightning. I could sense the officers nearby glance in my direction, uneasy, feeling the shift in the air. Though I wasn’t directing it at them, they knew something dangerous had been triggered. I’ve held back cursing for a long time, believing it wasn’t right, but now... I couldn’t stop myself. I whispered, letting it out, "That... motherfucker."