26. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
CRUE
A ll hands on deck. Batten down the hatches. We need to secure the ship!
That’s what I imagine Matteo will be screaming, at the top of his lungs, during my long drive from the open field to his villa in the city. However, when I pull into his driveway, I don’t see any stragglers or unfamiliar faces scurrying about or pointing guns at my head. Then, I remember that Matteo still doesn’t know anything.
Mark held off on telling him about Tomas. Which means he wouldn’t have told Matteo where he was headed today. Both of my dirty little secrets lie dead in that open field, and Matteo has no fucking idea.
I grin at the doorman as I get out of the car. I even consider speaking to him today. As a gesture of good faith for what I’m about to do. But I don’t, because I’ve never liked the smug look on his face.
I meet him at the top of the white stone staircase, and he leads me into the building. We walk a while, and I scan my surroundings all the way. There are no guards, no Baronne men on patrol, and no big guns focused on little old me. There is only glorious nothing.
For the most part, this makes sense. Matteo has no reason to have an armed force patrolling his home. He had control of this situation from the start, and has puppeteered his way to victory, via Lorenzo’s death.
Lorenzo, on the other hand, had a good reason for his guards and patrols.
Me.
“You’re a lucky man.” I decide I will speak to the doorman, and I say this as we reach the staircase. Matteo’s office isn’t far now, and I’ve been here enough times not to need a guide. Additionally, if I’m going to do this, I have to finish it before we get too far into the house.
He shoots me a narrow-eyed glare but doesn’t say anything.
Sensing danger, are we?
“I only planned on killing three today. Take pride in knowing you’re the fourth.”
“Wh—”, I force all six inches of my stunning silver dagger into the back of his head, cutting the question right out of his mouth from behind. His body pools into a sprawled mess on the floor. I lean down, clean my blade on his jacket, and continue heading upstairs.
“Crue?” Matteo looks up from whatever’s on his desk as I enter. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. Wasn’t Lucas at the door?”
“He was, but I told him about our new relationship and said he didn’t have to bother walking me over.” I cross to Matteo’s table and take a seat, watching a smile grow on his face.
“Only you have this power over people, Crue. And lucky for him. If he’d have let anyone else come through without an announcement, I’d have him killed.” Matteo shuts the folder he’s scanning, and gives me his full attention.
Beat you to it .
“Is there a reason you like having your guests announced?” I thought it was for show, a scare tactic.
“You never know what’s lurking in the shadows.” He scratches the top of his forehead, against his hairline. “It’s a way of rooting out the danger before it presents itself.”
I do. Then again, my shadow is the danger as much as I am.
“Smart way of handling things.” I shouldn’t have sat down. How am I going to get close enough to stab him in the heart while I’m sitting here. Though standing would’ve been more suspicious. We’re friends now. Seated and vulnerable is a comfortable state between friends.
“But I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about my doorman. How can I help you, Crue?” Straight to the point.
This will be the only time I ever wish Matteo preferred chit-chat . A handful of pointless comments would give me the time to find an answer to his question. Oh well, I’ve had enough of today as it is. Let’s just get it over with.
“You’re actually my third stop.” I lean forward in my chair and pretend to tie my shoelace. Of course, I’m not vulnerable. I have my ankle gun. But I came out to complete three sacrifices: the False King, the Executioner and the Judge and Jury.
One will have to satisfy the hunger. The others won’t die by ritual.
“I tried reaching out to the others, but I couldn’t get a hold of them.” Hard to do that without a séance. “So, I came here.”
Matteo’s eyes narrow, as if he knows something is up. I’m not surprised. It’s easy to spot a big steamy pile when it lands in front of you, when you’ve lived a life cutting out the bullshit and getting right to it.
“Let me give Tomas a call. He won’t decline it.” Matteo opens a drawer and reaches inside it. In a blink, he has a gun in his hand, and it’s aimed at my chest.
“Funny looking phone,” I say, easing back into my chair, my finger on the trigger of my pocket-sized pistol.
“What have you done, Crue?” He ignores me.
“Exactly what I said I would.” My breathing slows to near imperceptible inhalations. “I did it .”
My body tenses, expecting a hot bullet to sear the flesh. But my mind opens. It frees itself from the fear of death’s approach. My shadow — always there, watching, waiting, and ensuring my survival —is nowhere. Not even a tiny black spot at the back of my mind.
It’s just Matteo and me, on our own.
Matteo sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, but he doesn’t pull the trigger. He doesn’t want me to die here. He probably has some wild idea about how he’s going to torture me before the inevitable. Or he prefers splattering my brains over his lawn. It would be easier to clean up the gray matter. The birds would do half the job for him.
“Put your hands up, Crue. I think you know what happens now.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Don’t test m—”
It was a question that I knew would piss him off. I asked it with the sole intention of distracting him. Before he can answer in full, or make a threat I won’t listen to anyway, I lift my hand and squeeze the trigger twice. Both bullets hit his chest, and leave two little pin pricks of blood against his white shirt.
Matteo grunts. He looks down, and then up.
Oh fuck. There he is. My perfectly punctual shadow. Just in time to hear the returning bang, and to feel the displacement of flesh caused by Matteo’s larger caliber bullet. The impact topples me over in the chair and I crash to the floor, head-first and hard.
I hear a raspy breath from above, then a second, and then I hear a knock on wood that must be his head hitting his desk.
It was quick and concise. Totally the opposite to my battle with Mark, yet the wounds are much worse. Although, that makes a kind of sense, doesn’t it? Although I didn’t realize it when I met him, I’d have preferred Mark to stay alive. We could never have gone back to how things were, though. He’d always have been an enemy. It was a drawn-out fight where both tried to make the other see reason.
Matteo is different. A swift, sudden death is the only way to handle a man like him. There is no need for mind games, or a cerebral assassination. Just sending him to the black is all he deserves.
I assumed two bullets would do the job, but as I lie there with my eyes growing heavy, I realize I have made a mistake. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me . In this situation it also turns my insides into outsides.
It’s funny. For all the kicking and screaming I’ve seen; in sending so many to their ultimate fate, I have no desire to do the same.
It’s peaceful.
Quiet.
And as the thrum of eternal sleep surrounds me, I shut my eyes and smile. My shadow’s here. It’s always here. It’s the last remnant of myself and my past, turned guide until the end.