Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I said. Dad was right. I needed a clear head for my conversation with Maddox. Too much was at stake. Not just my happiness and his life, but also my family’s wellbeing. I couldn’t be selfish with this.
Dad and Amo exchanged a look with Matteo. It wasn’t difficult to read their expressions. They all hoped I’d change my mind and let them kill Maddox.
“If we let him live, maybe even let him go, he might try to kill your father and brother again. You really want to risk it?” Matteo asked quietly as we headed to the car outside.
It was dark in the windowless room they had dragged me into after I’d killed my uncle. The stench of piss and blood culminated in an overwhelming odor of despair. I wondered how many had died inside these walls, broken apart by Vitiello’s capable hands. Now there were two Vitiellos, and I couldn’t tell who was worse, the father or the son.
My hands were still sticky with my uncle’s blood. I had killed him on Marcella’s request without hesitation. I’d do it again, even if it had brought me here into this hopeless prison and not into the arms of the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. Maybe I should have known she wouldn’t forgive me as easily. Even killing my uncle didn’t change the fact that I’d kidnapped her and had been unable to protect her from my uncle’s cruelty. She’d carry the marks of my sins all her life.
I lost all sense of time, not that it mattered. I often caught myself wishing for death.
The door creaked open and the light from the corridor hit my face, momentarily blinding me. I squinted against the brightness to see who’d come to see me. Marcella to say goodbye before her father ended it? But the form that took shape was too ginormous to belong to anyone but Luca Vitiello himself. It took several seconds before he came into focus.
His expression was pure steel, his eyes the merciless pools I remembered from many years ago. He didn’t say anything. Maybe he hoped to see me beg for mercy, but it would have been a waste of both our times. He didn’t grant mercy and I’d cut my own dick off before I’d ever ask him for it. Maybe I had killed my uncle and helped Vitiello save Marcella, but I sure as fuck hadn’t done it for him. Everything I’d done had been for Snow White.
I still wanted him dead. Maybe that would always be the case.
“Is it time?” I croaked. My throat scratchy from too many hours without something to drink.
Luca’s face didn’t so much as twitch. He was probably imagining all the ways he’d dismember and torture me. He hated my fucking guts, for what I’d done to Marcella—and I whole-heartedly agreed with him on that point—but also for who I was, a biker, my father’s son, the man who’d touched his daughter. If Marcella told him how I’d taken her precious virginity, he’d probably kill me just for that transgression.
Fuck, dying with that memory in my mind might be worth dying over and over again.
“You kidnapped my daughter, risked her wellbeing and safety, only to save her weeks later. I wonder why you did it? Maybe you realized the Famiglia and I would catch up eventually and you saw it as your only chance to save your fucking hide.”
I shoved to my feet but regretted it as a wave of dizziness overcame me, so I sat back down on the ground. Vitiello regarded me without emotion. I was less than dirt in his eyes.
“The same reason why I didn’t ram my knife into your eye. For Marcella.”
“Because you feel guilty?” he scoffed.
I felt guilty, but would that have propelled me to destroy the club? “Guilt is only a tiny part of it.”
“Then why?” Luca growled.
“Because I love her.” I laughed, realizing the absurdity of the situation. “I love the daughter of the man who destroyed my life.”
Luca waved me off. “Many people lose someone. That’s part of our world.”
“I’m sure many kids watch their father’s bowels being strewn about like fucking confetti,” I muttered. “What I’ve been wondering since you slaughtered my club is if you noticed me that day?”
Luca stared me down as if I’d grown a second head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I pushed to my feet, even if they felt like rubber. I couldn’t have this conversation sitting at Vitiello’s feet like a dog. “I’m asking if you noticed that terrified five-year-old boy cowering under the couch while you maimed the people he considered his family?”
Luca’s face remained the impassive, harsh mask I knew. Marcella too had a chilling poker face but it was nothing in comparison to that of her old man. “I didn’t see a boy that day.”