Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be this close to getting the revenge I want so badly.
It kills me, hearing him say he wants me to join his family for real.
Because all I want to do is break his family to pieces.
“It’s just not going to happen.”
“I know you had a tough life. I don’t ask about it much because I’ve seen the way you react when it comes up, but don’t let whatever happened to you back then keep you from doing something good now.”
“What makes you think it’s my past?” My fingers dig into my thighs.
“Just a guess. I know you better than you think, brother.”
That word again. Brother.
I shove my door open. “We should get in there.” I step out of the car and walk away before he can tell me to stay.
I can’t have this conversation. Casso makes me too fucking angry and depressed, and getting close to him makes me soft. I don’t want to hurt him—we’ve become real friends over the years, despite my desire to destroy everything he knows—and I don’t want to use him, either.
But I’ve come too far for that.
So better to walk away. Better to pretend like it doesn’t matter.
Even if it does.
Casso follows and doesn’t speak as we stride across the street, up the driveway, and around the back. The fence is locked so we hop it. The back yard is weed-strewn with a metal table covered in old cigarettes and empty beer cans. Bagged trash lies in heaps beside the fence line.
I sneak up to the back door and hold up a hand as I test the knob. Fucking idiot left it open. I gesture for Casso to follow as I slip into a small mudroom with a washer and dryer on the right and pegs for light jackets and sweatshirts on the left.
The house is dead and still. I clear the living room and kitchen, making sure nobody’s there, before I head back to the bedrooms. Casso stays close. He doesn’t come on hits like this—he’s the Don’s son and nobody’s stupid enough to put him in danger.
But he insisted. He said this was important to him. It’s his own damn sister.
I let him tag along, and I hope I don’t regret it.
There’s a single room with a light flickering beneath it in the back. I grab the knob and hold a hand up for Casso to stay where he is. He nods back, face hard and eyes focused as I shove the door open and storm inside.
The bedroom’s carpeted. Clothes are scattered on the floor, and the bureau and nightstand are both covered in more empty beer cans. A TV’s playing anime and the kid in bed starts to scramble away as I draw my weapon. He’s shirtless, his chest covered in an ugly, fresh tattoo, and wearing tattered cut-off sweatpants.
“Stop, Tony.” My voice cuts through the noise and the kid freezes. His hand is an inch away from the top drawer and I’d bet my life he’s got a pistol in there. “Move back.”
Slowly, he pulls away. His eyes are wide and riddled with fear. “Nico,” he says. “Casso. What, uh, are you two doing here?”
Casso turns off the TV and flips on the light.
“We’ve got questions,” I say, approaching Tony.
He’s a young guy, nineteen at most, with soft cheeks and a nice smile. Most soldiers like him, although he’s inexperienced and awkward still. He fell in with Rinaldo’s little crew a few months back and seems to look up to the older soldier.
I feel bad for the kid, I really do.
But this is the game he wanted to play.
“What, uh, can I do for you guys? You could’ve knocked, yeah?”
“And give you a chance to run?” I quirk a smile at him and shake my head. “No, that wouldn’t do.”
“Why would I run?”
Casso shoves his way forward. “Because your buddy tried to rape the Don’s daughter and everyone in this city’s looking for him. That’s why.” He sounds pissed and I can’t blame him, but I need his head to stay clear.
I press my gun up against Tony’s knee. He freezes and pales, all the blood draining from his face. The fear strangles him then and I watch it travel along his body like a physical wave.
“Where’s Rinaldo?” I asked quietly, making sure he’s looking at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer. I’ll give you one more shot. Where is Tony?”
“Really, Nico—”
I pull the trigger. The gunshot is insanely loudly in the small room and Tony screams in agony as his knee is blasted to pieces. Poor kid won’t ever walk right after this, but it’s his own damn fault for trying to protect a rapist.
He moans and rolls from side to side, bleeding all over. I glance back at Casso and I expect to see him pale and freaked out—but he seems calm, like it’s not a big deal to see a young guy get his knee blown to pieces.