Chapter 6; Family
Earlier That Night
Altair moved through the slums of New Lazarus City with the quiet tension of a man already halfway inside his own head. The streets were a graveyard for the living. People slept on flattened cardboard, wrapped in threadbare blankets, limbs hanging over curbs like discarded puppets. Flies gathered on open wounds no one had the strength to clean. The air tasted like rust and smoke.
Drug deals whispered from the shadows between buildings. Faces glazed from cheap highs stared into nothing, locked in their own midnight gospel.
His phone buzzed in his coat. The ringtone was absurdly cheerful for a place like this, and he silenced it before its melody offended the dead-eyed world around him.
He reached a narrow, metal door. A stairwell behind it led upward into pitch-darkness.
He didn't bother with his phone's flashlight. He climbed blind, one step at a time, letting the darkness drag old memories to the surface.
A younger Kevin laughing as they launched paper airplanes down these same steps.
Altair chasing off three older boys who tried to jump Kevin for his backpack.
Kevin shoving Altair for teasing him about his first crush.
Altair's own first girlfriend, giggling on the landing, doodling their initials on the wall.
The fondness bled into something darker as he reached the top floor.
A single dying bulb flickered overhead, stretching long shadows across the hallway. His mind twisted to another memory. One he never replayed voluntarily.
Kevin's father, drunk and snarling.
The smell of whiskey.
The bruises on Kevin's arms.
Altair's hands around the man's throat.
The weight of the body as they stuffed him into a duffel bag.
The sound of Kevin crying afterward, not out of grief, but relief.
His phone rang again. He ignored it and approached Kevin's apartment.
He pushed the door open.
Light flicked on.
And the world punched him in the chest.
The small apartment was a war zone. Furniture overturned. Plates shattered. Curtains ripped from their rods. Drawers torn open. A hurricane of violence frozen in place.
Altair's breath broke. He stepped inside, scanning frantically for any sign of Kevin or Helen. His heartbeat drowned out the hum of the bulb. He knocked over a table in his rush and stumbled into a chair lying on its side.
Ropes were tied around it. Fresh blood streaked the wooden legs and pooled beneath.
Altair froze.
The memory of Kevin crying after killing his father overlapped with the blood at his feet. The same helplessness. The same fear of losing the only person who ever understood him.
His phone vibrated again.
He yanked it out of his coat with shaking hands.
Vittorio.
Altair answered before the first ring fully buzzed.
Altair's voice came out cracked, vicious. "I am coming for you. And I'll kill you."
Vittorio sighed on the other end, almost irritated. "I shouldn't be the one you're focused on."
Altair's jaw clenched. "Say it."
"Rico Morreti has Kevin and Helen. They owed him money tied to both of us."
Altair's grip tightened until the phone creaked. "What?"
"New Lazarus City Port," Vittorio said. "You may or may not find Rico, but you'll definitely find his men. Do what you want with them."
The call clicked off.
And Altair stood alone in the wreckage, memories bleeding into the present, grief twisting into something far more lethal.
+
Present Time
Gunfire cracked through the salt-heavy air.
Leonard seized the opening Altair created. He drew his handgun in one clean motion and squeezed off a shot. The bullet tore through the leader's hand. The man screamed, the briefcase slipping from his grip.
Rose didn't hesitate. She launched herself toward the case, boots slamming against concrete. Rounds snapped past her skull, punching sparks off the metal containers. She slid behind the tire of a parked cargo truck, breath tight in her chest.
"I'm going to help them," Alice said, already rising.
"Sit your fucking ass down, Alice. This isn't a game." Detective Vey's voice shook, the strain bleeding through his anger.
"We need to make arrests."
"For what?"
"Illegal possession of firearms, narcotics distribution, gun violence, pick one."
"Alice, listen. The only way you stay alive in this city is by not making noise you can't clean up." His eyes begged more than his words.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, then bolted toward the firefight.
Maggie kept her gaze on Vey for half a beat. Calm. Deciding. Then she racked her pistol, checked the chamber with muscle memory smooth as breath, and sprinted after Alice.
"Fuck!" Vey slammed his palm against the side of the patrol car.
___
Altair moved first. He stepped from behind a shipping crate, coat flaring, a ghost in the strobing lighthouse beam. Two shots rang out like punctuation marks. Two of Rico's men dropped, skulls snapping back, blood misting the damp air.
Rico's crew responded in a frenzy. Muzzle flashes lit up the docks. Bullets carved through plywood, shattered crates, ripped splinters from the railings.
Leonard flanked left, using the stacked cargo to cut angles. He fired as he moved, controlled and precise. One shot tore through a thug's thigh; the next found his chest when he staggered into view. Leonard ducked behind a rust-red container as return fire hammered the metal inches from his head.
On the far side, Rose broke from cover in a hard sprint. She dove behind a forklift, yanked a fallen man's SMG from his grip, and opened fire in a tight arc. Her rounds forced three gunmen to scatter, buying Leonard room to reposition.
Altair didn't bother hiding. He strode through the chaos like he owned the night. A gunman charged with a knife; Altair sidestepped, caught his wrist, and drove the blade back into the man's ribs before kicking him into a stack of barrels. He pivoted, fired at two silhouettes closing in from the dockside, and both went limp before they hit the ground.
Rico's men were losing ground fast.
Alice and Maggie reached the edge of the fray as a fresh volley erupted, rounds smacking into the pavement at their feet.
"Alice, down!" Maggie yanked her behind a container as bullets punched holes over their heads.
Out on the pier, Altair's eyes locked on the briefcase lying abandoned in the open. The lighthouse beam swung across the docks, illuminating the carnage. Leonard pointed toward the case; Rose nodded from behind her forklift.
Three seconds. Three fighters. And at least five gunmen still standing.
---
Gunfire thinned. Screams faded to groans. The seaport settled into a sick, shivering silence broken only by the distant churn of waves and the ticking of cooling gun barrels.
Rico's men were either dead, crawling, or praying they'd stay that way.
Altair didn't slow down.
He stepped over bodies like they were debris, coat soaked at the hem with seawater and blood, eyes locked on the man he wanted. The leader was dragging himself across the concrete, leaving a red smear behind him. A bullet had chewed through his thigh; bone might have been showing. He clawed for a dropped rifle, fingers shaking.
Altair shot the rifle first. The weapon spun out of reach, clattering across the dock.
The man screamed and rolled onto his back, hands raised.
"Please, I can talk, I can tell you–"
Altair fired into his other leg.
The scream sharpened. Echoed. Carried across the containers.
"Where are Kevin and Helen?" Altair's voice cracked on the names. Not loud, not shouted. Just raw. Jagged. "Where are they?"
The man tried to speak, choking on spit and pain. "I– I can show you– just let me–"
Altair put a round through his shoulder.
The body twisted. Blood misted the air. The man sobbed.
"Where are they?" Altair demanded again. His hand trembled on the trigger, but his arm stayed steady. Too steady.
The leader coughed, reaching weakly toward him. "Stop, please, I'll ta–"
Another shot. This one into his chest.
He convulsed, breath hitching. Words died in his throat.
Altair knelt beside him and pressed the barrel directly against the man's ribs.
"You took them from me." His voice broke again, no shame in it. "Where are Kevin and Helen?"
The man shook his head. Maybe trying to answer. Maybe begging. Maybe just dying.
Altair pulled the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The body jerked with each impact, eventually going limp, but Altair didn't stop. Tears streaked down his face as he emptied shot after shot into a corpse that could no longer scream, could no longer lie, could no longer give him the closure he was clawing for.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The slide locked back. The gun was dry. Altair still pulled the trigger.
His breathing was ragged, almost a sob, almost something worse. His shoulders shook as he hovered over the body, lost in the storm boiling inside him.
Behind him, a shadow appeared. Slow, deliberate.
Alice.
She raised her gun and leveled it at his back, hands tight around the grip, eyes locked on him.
The dock fell completely silent again.
And Altair still hadn't moved.
Alice stood five paces behind him, arms trembling as she aimed her gun. The muzzle wavered, but her resolve kept it from dropping. The corpse at Altair's knees was barely recognizable, a ruin of bone and blood. She could still hear the gunshots ringing in her skull.
"Altair… put the weapon down. You're under arrest. Don't make me do something neither of us can take back."
Altair didn't turn. Didn't flinch. He stared at the body like it still held answers.
Altair was quiet, almost talking to himself "I need to find Selene… I need to protect them.
He rocked forward slightly, hands shaking as though he wasn't sure what reality he was touching.
"No. Selene. I have to protect Selene."
Alice swallowed, gun tightening in her grip.
"Altair, listen to me. You're bleeding. You're in shock. Just—just stand up slowly and turn around. Don't move too fast."
He finally lifted his head.
Tears streaked his face. Not all of them looked human. Something unhinged flickered in his eyes, like he was seeing multiple worlds at once and none of them were kind.
"Kevin and Helen… I can't lose anyone again."
His voice cracked.
"I need to protect my family."
Alice's breath hitched. The man who'd walked into the shootout like a storm was now breaking in front of her. She steadied herself.
"Altair… your family needs you alive. Put the gun down. Please."
He slowly rose to his feet, the empty pistol dangling from limp fingers. He looked like a man caught between fight, flight, and collapse. For one second, his gaze met hers. A second later he wasn't looking at her at all.
Something dangerous shifted behind his eyes.
Alice braced, finger tightening on her trigger—
A single shot cracked from the side.
Altair staggered, a small burst of red blooming beneath his ribs.
He turned, confused, almost betrayed.
Maggie stood a few steps away, gun still smoking, expression carved from anger and fear.
"He wasn't going to stop, Alice." Maggie said her voice shaking
Altair swayed, breath catching, the violence inside him finally giving way to the wound dragging him under.
And he fell.