A rush of bile burned my throat as I found him. Flat on his back, his black shirt torn apart, blood all over his chest.

His eyes closed.

FUCK!

Grabbing the harpoon gun so I didn’t drag it behind me, I ran.

I ran with a goddamn spear in my leg the second the machine gun stopped reaping death and bellowed, “Still a fucking coward, Drake. Too much of a pussy to do the dirty work yourself!”

I dropped to Cal’s side, my hands shaking as I searched for a pulse.

Thud-thud.

Thud...thud.

Weak and fading, but there.

Hold on, my friend.

Drake appeared in the boat, laughing under his breath. Smoke from his gun curled into the sky, hazing him as if he’d stepped from a crack in the underworld. “Well, that was easy.” He pouted. “I’m rather disappointed.”

Standing, smearing Cal’s blood with my own, I grabbed a discarded gun from a dead guard and fired.

I fired again.

And again.

I emptied the entire fucking clip, wishing each bullet lodged firmly into my brother’s brain.

When I had no more ammo and the sky rang with noise and reeked with gunpowder, he stood up in the boat again.

With a sneer, he plucked at the small graze I’d given him. A simple cut on his side.

My aim fucking sucked.

“Always were a loser when it came to guns, baby brother. Should’ve come to the shooting range with me and dear ole Dad instead of hanging out with your mangy rescues.”

I threw the useless weapon to the side and yanked a knife from a guard’s leg scabbard. I advanced on him as he pressed a hand against his side and leaped awkwardly from his boat.

His feet were in my ocean, walking up my sand, infecting my paradise with his motherfucking filth.

No.

I didn’t care that his mercenaries leaped off the boat to surround us. I didn’t care that I would die. All I cared about was killing him.

Over and fucking over again.

“Hey, Drake.” I ran full tilt, harpoon in one hand and knife in the other. I ignored all weakness and the stickiness of blood and roundhouse-kicked him in the chest. “Surprise, motherfucker.”

I shoved him straight off his feet.

He sprawled in a jarring jumble in the sand.

That was all I needed.

I fell on him with a rain of fists. I stabbed him, lodging the blade into his shoulder, making him scream.

I struck his face, his body.

I used both hands at once.

“Fuck!” He rolled beneath my onslaught, trying to get far enough away to collect his breath and retaliate.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

“Time to die, Drake.” I kept hitting. My knuckles crunched. My wrists threatened to snap. My blows ranged from feral to ferocious, growing sloppy and savage.

I forgot about the knife sticking in his flesh. I needed to feel him die. Needed brunt force to break him rather than a knife to slaughter.

He gave up trying to run.

Twisting to face me, he struck my jaw, making my teeth rattle and blood geyser in my mouth from biting my tongue.

“Fuck you!” he snarled and struck me again, thinking he could win. “Someone get him off me!”

Hands reached for me. Punches rained on my back.

But I had the upper hand.

I had the power of hate. The corrosive fury of being weak. I hated that he’d gotten this far in one piece. I despised that my life refused to change tracks, preferring instead to hit the rewind and repeat button, forever making me the loser and him the gloating asshole.

Not today.

Today, I would take his life and—

“Stop.” Metal bit the back of my head, digging past my hair and into my scalp. “Get off him unless you want your brain splattered all over your fucking beach.”

I glanced behind me while I continued strangling Drake.

I’d won.

I had his life in my palm.

My teeth clenched as I weighed up the likelihood of killing him before I had the same fate.

My leg pumped fresh blood, making my mind skip with light-headedness.

No.

I shook my head, refusing to allow my body to ruin this for me.

I squeezed tighter.

I ripped the knife from Drake’s shoulder and held it against his throat. “Shoot me and I kill him.”

The mercenary paused, assessing the situation.

“Get him the fuck off me!” Drake tried to push me off, making me see nothing but red.

I dug the knife against his neck and slammed my fist into his nose, making blood gush and a garbled grunt spill from his lips.

“I said stop.” The gun dug deeper into my skull.

Four other men pressed their weapons against my head.

Drake choked and squirmed beneath me.

I balanced on the edge of committing worthwhile suicide just so I could continue murdering my brother.

But...even with a knife, I couldn’t be guaranteed he’d die.

I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing his lifeless eyes.

It would be my lifeless eyes.

My end.

My loss.

With bared teeth, I pushed to my feet, blinked back the heavy throb in my leg and spun. My arm lashed out, knocking into one of the guy’s wrists and sending a gun smashing to the sand. A second later, I punched him in the throat, making him gag for air. “I don’t take orders very well.”

My vision went black for a second.

I shook my head and stepped away from Drake, throwing a punch at the remaining men surrounding me.

I stumbled.

My heart galloped with adrenaline, mixing with the sedative of losing too much blood.

Shit.

I struck again, making contact with a man I couldn’t see.

I tripped as a wash of heaviness made gravity twenty times stronger.

No!

Stay awake, goddammit.

Shaking my head again, I bent and scooped up the gun I’d removed from the first mercenary. Nausea clawed my stomach, sickness made the world swim.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to stay conscious.

How much blood had I lost?

“Drop the gun.”

Gritting my teeth against the creeping greyness, I gave him the finger and aimed at my brother.

A rat-tat-tat volley of bullets made me jolt as a guy on the boat sprayed the sand by my feet. “He said drop the fucking gun!”

I fired instead.

I swayed and tripped and pressed the trigger in the general direction of my cunt of a brother.

The kickback sent me falling to my ass.

The sand embraced me.

My teeth rattled.

Darkness hovered on the edge of my vision.

Six men surrounded me, all with guns aimed at my every body part, their tension feeding into mine and helping me stay awake.

My leg looked like fucking mincemeat.

A strange kind of spaghetti of muscle and blood.

More nausea clawed up my throat, making me sweat and shiver all at once.

The men surrounding me swam in a blur. I licked my lips, tasting sand and salt. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll quadruple it.” I struggled to breathe as my leg continued to drain me of everything. “Kill Drake and leave, and I’ll give you whatever you goddamn want.”

Drake climbed gingerly to his feet, rubbing at his bleeding nose, favouring his stabbed shoulder. “They can’t be swayed, Sullivan.” He sniffed loudly and spat a large glob of blood right by my bare feet. “They don’t want money. They want this.” He waved his hand at my island. “They want what you’ve created here. They want a goddess for themselves. They want their dicks sucked. They want ultimate fucking power.”