42. Roman
Chapter 42
Roman
‘Meet you at the graveyard – Cleffy’
I storm into the hotel room, the door slamming against the wall behind me with a crash that rattles the light fixtures.
The taste of copper still lingers in my mouth, a brutal reminder of the secrets that I just ripped from her. My jaw pulses with a sharp ache, and my cheekbone feels like it’s been shattered, but I don’t care about any of that. Only getting the truth from him that I can no longer ignore, because if what she says is true, then we ruined her in ways we’ll never fully understand.
I make a beeline for the room at the back—the so-called office, though it’s more like a throne room for a man who thinks he’s a god… untouchable.
The old bastard likes to pretend he runs an empire.
In truth, he runs a graveyard built with the bones of better people.
The door flings open so hard it nearly comes off its hinges, and there he is, sitting there without a care in the world.
Oblivious to the truths that have just torn my world apart.
Lorenzo Valen.
The man who raised me with an iron fist and hollow words. Who beat me when I made a mistake. He’s sitting at his desk, a glass of scotch in one hand like we’re at a goddamn family reunion.
There’s not a flicker of concern on his face. No hint of guilt.
He doesn’t even look up at first, just types one last word and closes his laptop with infuriating calm.
I want to rip that calm from his face.
“I’m going to kill you,” I say, my voice low and trembling with rage. “Slowly and painfully.”
He barely reacts, just flicks his hand at me as if I’m a fly buzzing too close to his glass. “I said the same thing to my father once,” he chuckles. “What is it? You want more power? Tired of playing small-time with the dealer and runners? I get it. It’s beneath a Valen, isn’t it?”
He leans back in his chair and smiles. Then he smirks—casual, knowing… cruel .
“I was the same at your age. Like father, like son, eh?”
My fists clench so hard my knuckles pop. “We are nothing alike.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he sighs, as if I’ve disappointed him by not bringing a report card home. “Watch who you’re talking to, Roman. You might be my son, but it’s not a hardship to replace you. Now sit down. Act like a grown-up and tell me what you think I’ve done to warrant this tantrum.”
“You’re a rapist piece of shit.”
His eyes flicker. That’s all. A twitch, so fast you might miss it if you didn’t know him like I do.
“Ah,” he says slowly, “so you found her then.”
My entire body goes still. “Found her? You knew she was alive?”
He shrugs. “We were told she was dead. No body, no proof. I’m not stupid, Roman. Just didn’t see the point in digging around for a girl who wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe if Elijah hadn’t offed his daddy, James would’ve pushed me harder to find her. But he’s gone, and I moved on.”
He taps his finger against the desk like he’s bored with this conversation. “Where is she now?”
“Dead,” I lie, voice hollow.
My father rises from his chair like a storm gathering on the horizon, brushing invisible dust from his tailored shirt.
He rounds the desk slowly, each step deliberate, eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t mock me,” he growls. “The only way you would know what happened is if she told you.”
The room wraps around me as his words sink in. My ears ring, and my heart pounds so hard I feel it behind my eyes.
“Involvement?” I scoff. “Is that what you’re calling it. You raped her.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. Then—worse—he nods.
“And you and your boys left her locked up like a pretty little gift. Did you think no one would open it?”
My stomach twists. “Us?”
“James and I had the best time with the girl,” he says, eyes glowing with perverse nostalgia. “So innocent. So pure… and her screams. God, they were beautiful. Until she went silent, that is.”
My vision blurs, and for a terrifying moment, I don’t know if it’s rage or tears.
“Then why have us ruin her?”
He shrugs. “To break her. To make her compliant to be James’s wife. He was so set on it, and Tracey had no problem selling her daughter in exchange for more drugs… To see if you would.”
My gaze drops to the gun holstered on his hip, the one he wears like a symbol of his throne.
Could I grab it?
Would I be fast enough?
He sees where I’m looking and tsks, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it, Roman. You’re impulsive, reckless. And worse—soft. Just like your mother made you.”
I snap. “She made me human, which is more than you’ll ever be. You’re a monster who just wants to see people broken at his feet.”
He grins. “And you don’t? You took great pleasure in breaking Scarlett until she threw herself off that cliff. I’m more human than you because I’m not a dog who follows orders.”
In one fluid motion, faster than I expect, his fist crashes into my face.
I hit the ground hard, back cracking against the edge of a rug, and ribs screaming as the wind is knocked out of me.
Then his foot is on my chest, pressing down. Hard .
“You always were weak,” he mutters. “A disappointment from the moment you were old enough to talk. I should’ve strangled that softness out of you years ago when I killed your mom.”
I struggle beneath him, gasping. His weight crushes my lungs, making every breath feel like a knife in my ribs.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” I rasp.
“Oh, but I do. I’ve known about your little plan to kill me. The alliances. The backroom deals, as you stole Pacheco from me.” He sighs. “I let it happen. I wanted to see if you had it in you. And you don’t. All this time, and the best you’ve done is come here like a broken dog, sniveling that we broke your old toy.”
He crouches down. More weight on my chest. “I thought it would have made you stronger, but I see where I went wrong. I should’ve been finding a way to control you instead.”
Then he reaches for his gun.
“This is the part where you learn what it means to be a man…” he says. “A real Valen.”
The muzzle presses against my sternum.
Cold.
Final.
“I think it’s time I got myself a new wife,” he says with a smile, as if he’s discussing a weekend trip. “Scarlett’s still beautiful, I imagine. Still fertile. She’ll give me a better son. One who isn’t as useless as you are.”
“No—” I try to scream, but it comes out like a croak.
“She’ll be mine, Roman,” he whispers. “Her screams will be mine too. Every. Night. Until she gives me a son who won’t disappoint me.”
He lifts his legs and drives it into my ribs. The crack is audible. Pain explodes in my chest, and I taste blood.
“I’ll tell the world my son died tragically… so sudden. Maybe a drug overdose? A pathetic ending to a pathetic man.”
He tightens his grip on the trigger.
And fires.
The sound explodes in my ears.
The world erupts in a flash of sound and agony. My body seizes.
The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever known—hot and cold all at once, like being set on fire and drowned simultaneously.
My lungs scream. I can’t breathe. I can’t?—
The world tilts sideways. The taste of blood floods my mouth.
I fall numb, blinking up at the ceiling as he steps away, barking orders at his men to clean up the mess.