Chapter 34
VIKTOR
After having one of our guys track Marco’s phone, I find him holed up in some shitty apartment in Queens that reeks of weed, stale liquor, and enough chemical bullshit to make my eyes burn the second I step inside.
Music hums quietly from somewhere in the apartment, distorted through blown speakers while empty bottles litter the kitchen counters and floor.
I shove the apartment door shut behind me and immediately spot him sitting on the couch shirtless with bloodshot eyes and a half-empty bottle hanging loosely from one hand.
He blinks slowly when he sees me.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he mutters.
My jaw tightens immediately.
He looks horrible.
He’s paler than usual with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands are shaking from whatever shit he’s currently on.
I stay standing near the doorway for a second before finally speaking.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
Marco groans dramatically and drops his head back against the couch cushions. “Listen, if Gabriel sent you over here to lecture me again, tell him to go fuck himself.”
“It’s not that, but it is serious.” I reply.
Marco slowly sits forward, rubbing one hand down his face roughly before taking another drink straight from the bottle. “What happened?”
I stare at him for a second trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to say this without detonating him completely.
His eyes widen instantly, like the question sobers him up for half a second. “Everleigh?” he asks quickly. “Did something happen to Everleigh?”
I shake my head immediately. “No. Nothing like that. She’s fine.” I pause briefly before adding, “Still a complete pain in my ass, but fine.”
Marco visibly relaxes against the couch after that.
Then I force myself to say the next part. “Somebody accused you of raping and killing a girl.”
Marco stares at me for a second.
Then suddenly he laughs. “What?”
“It’s the Sidorovs,” I say immediately. “They fed some grieving guy fake information to cause issues for our family.”
Marco’s still staring at me, but his expression slowly changes from anger to confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snaps suddenly while standing up fast from the couch. The bottle nearly slips from his hand. “Who the fuck is this guy? Why the fuck am I being accused?”
“Finnic Lawson,” I answer honestly. “The Sidorovs convinced him that you committed the act against his girlfriend Maya.”
Marco’s face twists immediately. “I don’t even know a fucking Maya.”
“I know.” I agree.
“No, Viktor, you’re not hearing me.” He starts pacing now, bottle still hanging from one hand while panic slowly starts bleeding into his voice. “I don’t know this girl. I’ve never touched anybody like that in my fucking life.”
His breathing becomes uneven while he drags his free hand through his hair hard enough to pull at the roots.
“The Sidorovs used you because they knew you were believable,” I mutter carefully. “You’re already.. unstable enough that people would buy it.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Marco stops pacing instantly and the apartment goes quiet except for the hum of the music.
“Unstable?” he repeats quietly.
I drag a hand down my face. “That’s how they see you, Marco. We don’t-”
He laughs weakly, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about the way he does it. “I’m the fuck-up, right? The addict. The unstable embarrassment everybody keeps hidden away unless they need me for something.”
“That’s not-”
“It is though.” His eyes lift toward mine again, glassy now from more than just the drugs. “You know what the fucked up part is?” He points toward himself with the bottle. “I actually believed for a second that you came over here because you were worried about me.”
My jaw tightens hard enough to hurt.
“I am worried about you.” I counter.
Marco scoffs immediately, wiping roughly at his face. “No. You’re worried about the fallout this shit could bring down on the family.”
“That’s not true.” I disagree.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Vik.” Marco laughs bitterly again before taking another long swallow straight from the bottle. “God, Gabriel’s probably losing his fucking mind over this.”
Marco physically stumbles backward into the kitchen counter, one hand gripping the edge hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
Then his eyes meet mine, and I watch the realization turn into pure fear right in front of me.
“He..” His voice cracks slightly. He grabs tighter onto the counter to steady himself. “He sent you here to kill me, didn’t he?”
“What the fuck? No. Marco-”
“Yes he did,” he cuts me off immediately, panic bleeding harder into every word now. “Jesus Christ.” A broken laugh leaves him while tears continue spilling down his face. “That’s why you came here.”
“No.” I step toward him immediately. “If I was here to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
Marco’s chest heaves while he stares at me like he’s trying to figure out whether he believes me or not. But then he slowly slides down the cabinets afterward until he’s sitting on the kitchen floor again, hands shaking violently while tears streak down his face.
“I didn’t fucking do anything,” he says again weaker this time. “I know I’m a mess, okay? I know I fuck up a lot, but I didn’t do this.”
“I know.”
“I tried to do better after Mom died.” He laughs bitterly through tears. “I actually fucking tried for a while.”
Something tightens painfully in my chest hearing that.
Because I remember Marco going sober for almost three months after the funeral. He tried to show up to family dinners again.
Then eventually he just.. stopped trying.
“I miss her so much.” His voice breaks completely again.
“I know, I do too.” I mutter quietly.
“No, you don’t.” Tears keep pouring down his face while he presses both hands against his eyes. “She was the only person in this family who actually looked at me like I wasn’t broken.” He lets out another shaky breath. “Gabriel looks at me like I’m a fucking disappointment.”
The music continues to hum through the room, while Marco completely falls apart in front of me on the kitchen floor.
I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to say anymore.
Because he’s not wrong. That is exactly how our father sees him.
To him, he’s a disappointment.
A liability.
Something broken beyond repair.
But Marco’s wrong about one thing.
Everleigh and I never looked at him that way.
Or maybe it’s just because all three of us are fucked up in our own different ways that none of us ever had room to judge the others for it.