I cleared my throat, trying to work out the sticky bile taste I felt surging up from my gut.
“You want me to work for the family?”
“That’s right. You’ll have an official capacity, but it’ll be menial work. You’ll smile and flirt with the old men in the state senate, you’ll hand out bribes to the ones that don’t fall for your charms, which I suspect will be most of them, and you’ll do whatever I ask of you. And in exchange, I’ll keep you on the payroll on top of your million.”
I leaned back and sat down on the edge of the bed. I stared at my hands, wondering how the hell I found myself in this position, being offered a job in the family I despise, and knowing full well that it’s not truly an offer—but a threat.
“No,” I said, my voice soft.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” I lifted my head and stared at him. “No, Vincent. I don’t want your job or your money.”
He stared at me, confusion in his eyes, then laughed. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not joking.” I stood up. “I don’t want your money or your job. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. That’s all I want.”
His laughter disappeared and he took a step toward me, jaw clenched. “That’s not going to happen,” he said through his teeth.
“You think I want anything to do with this fucked-up family anymore?” I stared at him, heart racing, barely controlling myself. “You people have done nothing but screw me over, use me for whatever you want, and kill my best friend.”
He flinched back, blinking. “Kill your friend?”
“You don’t even remember him, do you?”
“Are you talking about that fucking fat kid you used to hang out with?” He made a face. “I thought you were happy when that loser got whacked. What was his name anyway?”
I took a few steps toward him as he stared at me with a bemused expression. I closed my eyes and took a breath, and I could see Alex there on the sidewalk, bleeding out, gasping for breath, fear in his eyes—begging me to save his life, but knowing he was dying, knowing he was about to be finished. And now, hearing my cousin talk about him like that filled me with so much fury that I didn’t know how to control it.
“His name was Alex,” I said, walking up to him, “and he was better than you’ll ever be.”
He didn’t expect me to hit him. He didn’t so much as move as my palm smacked across his face with a satisfying crack. His chin jerked to the side and he let out a single surprised grunt as I kneed him as hard as I could in the crotch. He groaned and staggered backwards, gripping his balls as I turned to the door and ran for it.
I grabbed the handle and yanked it open. The hallway was empty as I threw myself into it. My heart hammered and I knew I just signed my death warrant—there was no way I’d escape, not now. Vincent wouldn’t let me get away with hurting him like that. I heard him come after me with a roar as I sprinted as fast as I could, moving down the silent hotel-like hallway, the heavy carpet padding my footfalls.
I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been smarter and waited for a better opportunity, but hearing him talk about Alex like that, and not even remembering his name—I couldn’t hold back.
And if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that it felt good to hit Vincent like that. I’d been wanting to hurt him for so long for what happened to Alex. He deserved that and so much worse, and I wanted him to pay for it, pay for all of it, even if Alex’s death wasn’t his fault. I wanted him to remember his name at the very least.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it now. Alex was gone and the family had moved on—everyone except for me. I didn’t think I’d ever get there, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Vincent caught me before I could reach the stairs. I heard his steps, his heavy breathing, then felt him slam into my back. I staggered, lost my balance, and slammed face-first into a wall. I gasped in surprise and pain as stars burst into my vision. I hit the floor, rolled, and lashed out, but Vincent was already on me. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me away from the stairs as I desperately tried to grab at the railing.
“You stupid bitch,” he said, his voice low and tense. “You never should’ve done that. I was willing to cut you a deal, make you rich and comfortable, and instead you had to throw it away. Over what, some dead fucking loser? Some fat fuck you used to hang out with? It’s pathetic, Cora. It’s fucking pathetic.”
I kicked him as hard as I could and landed a blow squarely on his arm. He grunted and released my ankle, but grabbed me again before I could kick more. He yanked me into the center of the hall then released me and kicked me hard in the ribs. I gasped, trying to crawl away. He kicked me again, and again, and I rolled over onto my side, sobbing from the pain, sobbing from the memory of dead Alex, wondering if I was going to join him soon.
Both of us, killed by the Leone family. He died because he loved them too much—and I’d die because I hated them.
Another kick and I curled up into a ball. I heard him curse as he grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. I tried to hit him, scratch him, but he punched me in the gut and dragged me along. I stumbled, almost fell, but he kept hold of my hair. I lashed out at him, but every time I got close, he’d hit me again.
He threw me back into the bedroom and stood in the doorway, panting hard, staring in at me. He was silhouetted by the hallway light, and his eyes looked black—dark, midnight deep pools of rage.
“You stupid bitch,” he said, sounding eerily calm. “If you’re lucky, I’ll make sure you die fast. Otherwise, you’ll rot in here.”
“Fuck you.” I spit at him and blood splattered the floor.
He looked at me, disgusted and angry, before slamming the door and locking it.
I stayed on the floor, crying, spitting blood, and gasping for air. At some point I managed to crawl into the bathroom and start the shower, but I never got inside. I stayed curled up on the tile with a towel wrapped over my shoulders, crying for Alex, crying for the future with Reid I knew I’d never have—and crying for myself.
21
Reid
I had Enrico and Aldrik meet me at a dive bar in South Philly that had the oldest working jukebox I’d ever seen. I got a beer and sat in the shadows toward the back, and my guys sat with their backs to the door, each of them hunched over a whiskey.
“I heard you got into it with Hedeon,” Aldrik said, frowning at me. I couldn’t tell if he was concerned for me or for himself, and I didn’t bother asking.
“Hedeon’s wrong.” I shrugged and sipped my beer. “Nothing else to do about it.”
Enrico gave me a strange look, and I tried to read into his expression—but realized whatever happened next would hinge on his reaction. If he was willing to help then I knew Aldrik would go along with him, but if he decided that ditching me was best for him then I’d be left alone and screwed.
“It’s about the girl, isn’t it?” His voice was steady and quiet.
“Yeah, it’s about the girl.”