His Mafia Prince
Chapter 216: If I Die Young

Chapter 216: If I Die Young

(JERICHO)

Sasha lies half cradled in Tyler’s lap. Blood seeps between Tyler’s fingers as he tries to keep pressure on the wound. My brother’s face is pale, too pale than I’ve ever seen. The sight makes me feel sick to my stomach. Yes, I wanted him to help me protect my omega, but of all the worst-case scenarios that I had imagined, the last thing I thought was that my brother would be lying in a pool of his own blood. I don’t want to imagine the worst. I can’t. Not right now. I have to keep the hope that he will be okay. He has to be okay.

I yank out my phone and tap the screen so rushedly that the phone almost falls. "Miles," I bark into the phone, surprised at how steady my voice sounds. "Sasha is down. We need help. Now."

Tyler is heaving and sobbing uncontrollably, trying to keep Sasha awake. I’m not sure what to do or how to help because in truth, I’m still reeling in shock. For years, Sasha has always been the strongest force in the city, and nobody has ever dared to pull such a move on us. I drop to my knees beside them and pull off my jacket to press against the wound. The blood is hot and sticky on my hands. My brother’s blood. How many times have we bled for each other? But not like this. Never like this.

"You’re okay." Tyler repeats the saying, over and over again as though he is chanting. "You’re going to be okay, stay with me, Alpha. Please stay with me."

It guts me to see Tyler in this state. Then a thought creeps into my mind that Wesley could just as easily have suffered the same fate. Is he okay? Are they okay? Should we call them and let them know what is happening, or should we wait? I certainly know that calling them would send Wesley into a straight up panic mode. He is already vulnerable, and making it worse by getting him more worried won’t exactly help the situation. So, I decide otherwise.

"Tyler..." Sasha’s voice is tight with pain but clear. "Listen to me―"

"No. No goodbyes, Sasha. Don’t you dare."

A wet chuckle escapes Sasha’s lips, followed by a wince. "Stubborn omega, I was going to say I love you."

My throat closes. All the twenty-four years of my life, I have never heard Sasha say those words out loud. I know that he loves him, but we barely talk about our emotions like that. "Hold on." I tell him as I press harder on the wound. My hands are literally trembling. "Miles is on his way, just hold on."

Sasha’s gaze finds mine, and I see something in them that I have never seen before. Fear. He has never feared death. Maybe this is the fear of leaving the people he loves behind. Of leaving them in this cruel world and not knowing their fate. No matter how many times I try to push away the thought that he might die here, I can’t help it. He is already losing too much blood and if he doesn’t get help fast, things might take a turn for the worst.

"Jericho," he gasps, reaching for my arm with his blood slicked hand. "P...promise me―"

"Don’t." I cut him off immediately. "You can tell me yourself when you’re better." Even though he isn’t in a good state, I have to tell myself until I believe that he will be okay. I can never forgive myself should anything bad happen. I will be gutted and blame myself for eternity. We both know that his chances of getting out of here alive aren’t guaranteed, nothing ever is. Nothing in our life ever is.

I hear footsteps running in the distance. Shouts echo through the warehouse as Miles shouts over his phone. Sasha is going still and suddenly everything feels slow. Everything is moving too slow. I’m losing my mind trying to gauge a way to help, but knowing that I’m helpless to do anything.

"Promise me," he tries again, his grip on my arm weakening. "You will... you will protect them both. Tyler and Wesley."

Unable to contain himself, Tyler lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a growl. "You will protect us yourself, Sasha. You hear me? You’re not leaving us."

I look at Sasha, really look at him. Beyond the blood and the pain in his eyes, I see the man who stepped up when our father died, the man who has taken charge of the Triple Triad syndicates like nobody ever thought he would. The one who loves his family fiercely and would burn the world to ashes to keep us safe. My heart sinks. Even so, I know better than to show it. I have to be strong for all of us. He is trusting me to be.

"I promise." I say hoarsely, not because I mean it, but because I have to. Because that’s the reassurance he needs. Because that is what he needs to hear. "You’re not dying here, Sasha. Not today, and definitely not like this."

A ghost of his usual smirk crosses his lips. "Since when... Do you give me orders, little brother?"

Soon enough, medicine arrives in a rush of activity and urgent voices. I feel a bit relieved but even then, I’m just hoping for the best but expecting the worst. They push me back and try to stabilize him, but Tyler refuses to let go of Sasha’s hand. I stand up, my legs wobbly like jelly as I stare at my blood-stained hands.

I have always known the risks of being an Adonis. Sasha shielded me from the violence long enough to witness most of it, but I know of friends and enemies alike who have fallen to knives, bullets or worse. But Sasha always seemed untouchable. He always neutralized threats. He always had a plan, until today.

Now I watch hopelessly as they lift him onto a stretcher. Tyler moves along with them like he is tethered to Sasha’s side. Sasha’s eyes are now closed. Despite the drugs that they have administered, his face still masks pain.

"Sir," one of Miles’ men approach me cautiously. "We have secured the perimeter and we have Peter. What are your orders?"

Orders. The word hits me like a ton of bricks. Because should anything happen to Sasha, I’ll be next in line. The thought makes me want to vomit.,

"Keep the man alive." I find myself saying, the words feeling so foreign even to my own ears. "If Sasha―" I can’t complete the sentence. "He’ll want to deal with him personally."

The man nods then walks away. My attention shifts back to the carnage scene. Connor’s bullet riddled body and the pool of my brother’s blood on the concrete floor, the ropes that bound Tyler’s wrists. Then it begins to dawn on me why this world is so violent, and that violence begets violence. I have always known this, but today is the day that I come to accept it.

But standing here watching my brother get loaded into an ambulance while his omega refuses to leave his side makes me wonder if the price is too high.

"Sir?" another voice calls. "They are waiting for you."

I nod curtly and follow them out. I pull my phone out as I slide onto the backseat, knowing that I have to call Wesley and make sure that he is okay. But my fingers tremble furiously as they hover over his number. This is what I’ve been protecting him from for months, how do I even begin to break the news to him? How do I face him knowing that the same violence could reach us someday?

The car pulls away from the warehouse and I watch as the flashing lights disappear into the night. Sasha must live. He has to. Because if he dies, he won’t be the only casualty. He will take pieces of all of us with him. He will leave behind a gutted omega, two children, a broken family and a little brother who never wanted to be the leader of the Triple Triad syndicate.

***

Minutes later, my mother, Wesley, Miles, Tyler and I are sitting in the most non-denominational hospital chapel that I have ever seen, Wesley next to me praying harder than I have ever heard him while some surgeon cuts into my brother. And the only thought in my head is how foolish I was to not pay attention when I most needed to.

I have been kept away from this world, and now I see the reasons why. I have always lived trying to keep at bay with the arms of death.

But today, Sasha stepped in front of death for us all.

I’m not a religious person, nor am I superstitious. But I can’t shake the feeling that tonight is the result of being an Adonis, flaunting and flirting with death and now, it is looking to claim the very person that means much to me than anyone else.

Wesley is praying. My mother is praying. Everyone, I’m told, is praying. Yet I just sit and stare at the flower arrangement at the front of the chapel and I wait, because deep down I know that the one making the final decision tonight isn’t some god. It’s death.

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