9. Emmett
CHAPTER 9
Emmett
“ G ood evening, Young Master,” Ripley says. “It’s good to have you back home, sir.”
Home.
This damn place has never been home to me, but I will always force myself to come here.
After all, this is where Mom grew up.
I glance at Ripley, but his face is schooled into a mask of impenetrable impassiveness as usual, giving nothing away.
To innocent outsiders, Ripley looks like your regular, plain butler who serves a pretentious old-money family.
He gives off a light air, as if he’s na?ve and doesn’t quite know the inner workings of the family he works for—or if he does, he’s paid handsomely to act blind and mute—but that’s not Ripley.
Unlike most, if not all of my cousins and uncles who treat Ripley as if he’s just the help, I know exactly who he is.
And I know what he can do.
Under great, ruthless, sinister men like my grandfather, there’s no such thing as ordinary and innocent.
After all, the entire outfit of the Easton Family has survived and thrived through the century by careful calculations, a violent kind of vigilance and, well, simple ruthlessness.
“Good evening, Ripley.”
“This way, sir,” he says in his voice that has always sounded ancient to me since I was a kid.
Hell, he’s been here since my mother was just a little girl.
I follow him, taking my time knowing damn well that I’m incredibly late.
“They’re all here?” I mutter behind him, scrolling through my phone as I ignore the hidden cameras trained on me.
“Yes, sir,” Ripley answers, his Romanian accent deeper now that we’re away from prying eyes and satellite ears.
“The old man?”
“He’s in a peculiar mood,” Ripley says with a hint of warning.
I smirk. “I’d imagine so.”
“He changed the structure, Young Master,” Ripley advises discreetly while giving me a pointed look. I stop in my tracks.
If Grandfather changed the structure, it means he really is questioning whether or not to make me the head of the Family.
“I’d approach the evening with caution, sir,” Ripley continues.
Caution… well, that’s also a luxury I don’t have time for either.
“I understand. Are they ready?”
“Yes, Young Master,” Ripley says smoothly. “They’re all waiting for you now.”
Just as I intended.
A dying man without time making them all wait for me. “Good.”
“Sir…”
“Don’t worry, Rip, what has to come will never be late.”
At my words, Ripley stops and turns around to look at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Madam used to say that.”
“My mother?” I mutter, as the thing in my chest tightens. No one ever dares to mention Daphne in this house. Ever.
“Yes… she heard it from her mother, Madam Narcissa Easton.”
My grandmother. A woman whose existence in the Family is also marred by unexplained incidents.
What I do know for sure is that Grandfather truly loved her. And after she was killed by a rival family, everything completely changed.
I want to ask Rip how long exactly he’s been with the Family, but before I can, Ripley looks away and continues leading me down the long, dark halls of the medieval castle-like mansion.
Only deeply personal Family business is ever conducted here where only the closest and upper members of the Outfit are ever invited.
And tonight, those same high-ranking, loyal-to-the-core capos are present tonight… all waiting for me.
As we walk, a familiar young man walks up to us. He hands Ripley a silver tray with a newspaper on top.
When the guy notices me, he jumps back and immediately lowers his gaze to the floor but not before I notice the panic in his eyes.
“Good evening, sir. Apologies for my rudeness,” he says in a thick Italian accent. “I hadn’t noticed you.”
And yet he knew I was coming. Interesting.
“Andre, right?” I ask intentionally.
He looks up so fast, a surprised look on his face. He quickly pulls himself together, but I notice how he takes three steps back.
“Andres, sir. Only my family used to call me Andre,” he says in a steady voice.
I know that.
I also know that his family was slaughtered in the middle of a bright sunny day for being too poor to pay off debts that were never theirs to begin with.
The children were sold off.
The women were humiliated severely before being mutilated and their organs sold on the black market.
I know everything about him, just as I know that he approached me on purpose, likely with the intent of having me notice him.
Good… after all, I did save his life.
“A good name,” I say, watching him closely.
“It was my father’s name, sir,” he responds with barely-contained rage.
Even better… he’s hungry for revenge.
“We should thank him for the name, no?”
At that, the young man looks up at me with a bit of surprise that morphs into eager anticipation.
“We should, sir,” he says darkly. I smirk.
While Andres looks like an innocent twenty-four-year-old, he’s actually shaping up to be one of the most ruthless torturers in my faction.
The only thing is, the ones above him, underestimate him.
But one thing I know about people like Andres, like George, like my- fucking -self… never underestimate someone with a desperate hunger for revenge AND nothing to lose.
“Andres,” Ripley says and gestures to the tray he just handed him.
“Ah yes. It’s pouring out, yes.” Andres quickly leaves and then in a moment, he’s back with a dome-shaped cover for the tray.
The theatrics of it all don’t go unnoticed but my attention is on the paper on the tray.
Obviously Rip is taking it to Grandfather, but why now in the middle of the fucking night?
Why a New York Times paper? And why the fuck is this happening like it’s been staged?
“Are you ready, Young Master?” Ripley says, drawing my attention.
“Go ahead first,” I mutter.
Both he and Andres nod, bow their heads, and then they leave.
Something’s up for sure.
I fish out my phone and shoot a quick message to Kai and Ty.
Then I straighten myself up. I’m just in a black shirt and a simple pair of black slacks.
The occasion demands etiquette, but I’ll be damned if I ever conform to anyone’s fucking standards and expectations.
I do what I please with every single heartbeat.
It’s raining harder now than when I first arrived. I guess even the Heavens are protesting this farce.
I grab the black umbrella left for me, most likely by Ripley, and make my way out.
I go down the stairs, then cross the large backyard, go down the paved path lit softly by glowing lamps spaced out every eight paces, you’d think this is a fairy tale.
But when you get to the end of the path, you’d figure that this is hell on earth.
Up ahead at the very end of the huge backyard, past the black wrought iron gates, is the Easton Family burial plot.
A cemetery unknown to the world or the powers that be.
A place where skeletons, secrets, and everything that goes against the Family lies buried.
“Emmett, take a good look at this place. This here, is where our entire family is buried.”
“Our entire family? What about the plot in Westbrook Blues, the one with the other families?”
“You tell me.”
“It’s a game.” Everything about Westbrook Blues is a game.
“And don’t you dare forget how to play it.”
“I won’t, Grandpa.”
And I never will.
The graveyard serves as a perfect backdrop for tonight’s events, and I know this was Grandfather’s intention all along.
When it comes to setting up a stage, no one does it quite like the eighty-seven-year-old shrewd Godfather of the most ruthless dominating Outfit in the underbelly.
The old man knows how to send a message across. I guess, in some respects, I got that from him.
I make my way towards the sea of black umbrellas raised to shield from the rain that’s now pouring with a ferocity that would shake the hearts of lesser men, but there’s only silence and stillness among the hundred men and a few women gathered here.
These are the closest higher-ups of the Outfit.
All unique in their own way.
All with hidden agendas and their own loyalties.
But as soon as I walk through the small iron gate, in a synchronized move, they all step aside, parting into two lines as they form a wide passage for me.
No one dares to say a word or cough or even whisper. It’s just the sound of the rain.
Without sparing any of them a glance, I leisurely walk down the path.
A saner person would be shaking in their boots at this reception because a few years ago the same welcome was given to one of Grandfather’s trusted friends of forty years, just before his throat was slit for betraying the Family.
But I’m used to this. No one dares get in my way when I’m around.
Not because I’m the heir, but because I’m more than my last name and they know it.
As I pass each of them, they bow their heads in silent respect.
I ignore them as well as the irregular beats in my chest, only focusing on one thing.
The end.
As I get closer to where Grandfather is, I spot the people I wanted to make sure are here tonight.
My uncles and their offspring.
Armando Alessio Easton had four children. One daughter and three sons.
In order, it was Daphne, Emilio, Giovanni, and Angelo.
With the disappearance of the female heir, the other three have been doing all they can to take her place.
Unfortunately, their older sister birthed me, which is why the animosity and anger on my uncles’ faces doesn’t faze me.
I can tell what they’re thinking as they watch me.
How dare the disgraceful son of a mere dirt spoon and a traitor to the Family be heir?
But more than that, I know what they suspect—which is really what they hope happens more than anything.
My death.
There’s Uncle Emilio, the second-born and oldest son to Grandfather.
Emilio is actually three months younger than my mother—birthed by Grandfather’s then mistress—but it’s that little, almost invisible age gap that has been eating at him all these years.
He has two sons. His oldest son, Vaughn—who is my age—and his seventeen-year-old child, Lucien.
While his own son is third in command and close to Grandfather, Emilio stands at the very end of the line. Five persons away from Grandfather, to be exact.
That placement is not his preferred choice either, but Grandfather’s opinion on Emilio is clear.
I notice the thunderous expression on his face as he watches me.
The fact that he makes his hatred for me so clear is a comfort of sorts.
He doesn’t wear a mask, but instead, shows his displeasure for me—and for the status of his birth—so clearly that his own father subtly demoted him.
He thinks it’s my fault he’s treated like an outsider but in fact, the closest men to Grandfather aren’t related by blood at all.
I skip to the person standing next to him, his younger son, Lucien.
He’s slightly shorter than his brother but a bit meaner. Rumor has it, he’s quite the hellraiser and does whatever he pleases.
But I know he has a sharp mind, quick with engineering and computers.
He was sent to some boarding school that specializes in ‘aiding’ kids to become better members of society. But I know better.
That boy runs that school. He and the other boys at his school who I’m sure Grandfather and his father wouldn’t want to hear about because the families those boys come from are our mortal enemies.
Lucien stares at me with a blank expression and something else that flashes in his eyes.
I ignore it and instead notice the next person beside Uncle Emilio and Lucien.
It’s Grandfather’s last-born, Angelo.
He’s in his early forties and looks like he’d rather be elsewhere than here. He’s Grandfather’s lapdog, does everything he’s told to do, and acts as if he’s fine with everything, amicable with everyone.
He catches my eye and winks. I give him a slight nod back.
I’m not quite sure what to think of him and because of that, I stay away on principle—even though he acts like we’re close.
Unlike Emilio, Angelo is the kind that will smile to your face, pretending to be helpful, all the while betraying you with ease.
He always goes out of his way to try to get close to me. But more than that, he’s smart.
If I can pretend to be one thing all my life in another town, so can he.
Right next to him is the middle child, Giovanni.
Now, he’s a snake that changes color depending on the circumstances, with two children as well. Xavier, the asshole I met when I arrived earlier, and his firstborn, Scarlet.
He watches me with a mix of slight anger and a kind of excitement as if he’s about to put on a show.
I hold his gaze and smirk.
I remember his men from almost nineteen years ago…the ones that were after Angel.
Giovanni knows that I’m the one who took care of that. He’s also tried to kill Angel several times thinking she had already told me but I thwarted all his efforts and spread the fact of Angel’s amnesia to him.
Back then, I was too young and weak to take him on.
Now though… he’s got another thing coming. I just need to be made the official boss of the Outfit first before I make an example of my dearest uncle.
Giovanni thinks the heir should be his son, since he knows there’s no way for him to ever get the chance.
Ignoring all of them, I make my way to the front where I see Grandfather, and right next to him is Emilio’s older son, Vaughn.
Now, he’s completely different from his father, our uncles, and all my other cousins.
He’s completely unpredictable, cunning, and calculating.
Vaughn is actually just a few days younger than me, which is a little fact that will always be a huge fucking pain in his and his asshole father’s ass.
Vaughn doesn’t bother looking at me and while the rest of the Family, the top members of the Outfit and everyone present—including my uncles and cousins—bow as I walk, he stands straight and stoic.
I don’t care.
Vaughn is subtle, plays his cards close to the chest. Hardly makes any waves, but I know better.
He’s as sharp and precise as a bullet—and in this race to become the next boss of the Family, he’s my only opponent.
He stands to the left of Grandfather, holding the umbrella up for him.
Unlike everyone else who’s watching me, he goes back to being impassive, staring straight ahead, but I know he’s aware of everything, just like I am.
He’s the one person I have to be most cautious of because just like me, he has a hidden, sinister side that I don’t quite know of. Yet.
Up until now, I haven’t dealt with him, not because I haven’t done my homework on him, but because I choose not to. After all, I want to see what he can do.
It’s more fun that way.
One thing is clear, though, I won’t let him—or anyone else—get in my fucking way.
“Emmett is finally here!” a cheery voice I haven’t heard in a long time squeals.
I look to my left and spot Giovanni’s eldest daughter, Scarlet. Another huge-ass thorn in his fucking heart that he couldn’t get a son as his firstborn.
The last time I saw her, she had tears and mascara running down her face and sky-blue streaks in her jet-black hair.
This time she’s gone all out and dyed her hair hot pink, sporting a new tattoo on her wrist.
Under the sea of black, gray, and thundering skies, she’s the only pop of color and the only one smiling at my presence.
“Cousin,” I mutter. She’s the only one I ever acknowledge when it comes to these things.
“Hey yourself! We’ve been waiting for you!” Scar says cheerfully, twirling her umbrella as she watches me.
To others, she’s an airhead. To me, she’s a secret weapon.
I walk closer to Grandfather and stand in my designated spot, his right side, the spot that everyone covets and secretly desire in their hearts.
But it’s also the post with the heaviest burden—but that’s the good thing about being on the verge of death with each heartbeat.
No burden seems important or particularly heavy. It’s just something that must be taken care of.
“Grandfather,” I greet him in a low voice.
Thanks to the third stroke he had a few months ago that restricted him to a wheelchair, Grandfather sits quietly in his wheelchair, with a solemn look on his face as he stares at the large tombstone of his father, my great-grandfather and the man who took the Easton Family to the next level.
He’s also the man responsible for the current partnership of the Blue families in Westbrook Blues.
“You’re here,” Grandfather says, barely noticeable annoyance in his voice.
Ripley was right, he’s in a peculiar mood—but then again, he’s also a man running out of time.
All these years he thought himself invincible, as if he can escape death.
“I had matters to take care of.”
No apologies, No explanations.
“What matters? Finding your wretched father?” Emilio shoots from the back.
I don’t even spare him a glance, instead I stare at Grandfather. The topic of my father is also something I’m aware he’s very interested in.
“Uncle, that’s also part of it, yes,” I say simply, but with a finality to my voice.
Silence falls over the cemetery.
“The matters you were dealing with, nephew, are they perhaps fatal?” Giovanni questions from where he stands.
And there it is.
“Fatal matters should be exterminated immediately. After all, they could crumble the Family, cousin,” Xavier says cooperatively from his side.
Vaughn glances at Lucien and his father but he doesn’t say anything.
“There’s a fatal matter in the family that I wasn’t aware of?” Grandfather suddenly asks. Giovanni and his son step closer, as if they’re about to witness a fireworks display. Good. “Emmett?”
“I’m also wondering the same thing. Uncle, could you or your son clarify?” My voice is low, calm, and soft but from the corner of my eye, I see my uncle tense up.
In fact, all the men around grow tense and still at my voice.
Everyone knows you don’t just make an accusation, especially if it’s against the grand heir.
I don’t bother looking their way, waiting for an answer.
“Well, I…” Giovanni starts. “I heard…”
“You heard?” Grandfather scoffs. “In other words, you don’t know anything!”
“Father, I heard there was a breach at one of the Family’s businesses. We might’ve lost millions tonight. This just goes to show how unsuitable this boy is. His oversight and negligence makes him unsuitable to be?—"
“How do you know?” Grandfather asks instead.
“Of course, I’ve been watching…” Giovanni trails off, his embarrassment and anger flashing in his eyes when he realizes what he just said.
He just invertedly admitted to spying on my side of the operations.
“Father, what I mean is?—”
“If you don’t know how to talk, shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
The statement is not a threat but a promise.
There are a few old scars on Giovanni’s face from the times his father has dealt with him, but then again, Grandfather won’t deal with him today.
By blocking his ‘report’ I know Grandfather wants to deal with me tonight.
The rain pours down harder, but no one moves or makes a sound.
We all just stare at Great-Grandfather’s grave.
A few minutes later, a priest is led through the gates and then he says a few verses from the Bible.
The old priest also adds some nice words about Great-Grandfather enjoying himself in paradise and how the dead are now resting.
As for me, I just know that I’ll be burning in hell when my turn comes.
For what I’m about to do, make room for me, Great-Grandfather. Your heir will be taking matters into his own hands, just as you did.
After the last prayer, Grandfather dismisses everyone but keeps me and Vaughn with him.
Emilio leaves in a fury when he sees that his son was asked to stay instead of him.
Giovanni also leaves with his head down, as if he’s embarrassed by his outburst, but I know he isn’t.
I eye his back, wondering when he’ll finally show his true face. I might have to cause that to happen.
After all, cowards are never up-front about their desires.
Scarlet moves closer to whisper in my ear, “Cover for me, I’m going off grid.” Then she quickly leaves.
I shake my head, knowing full well that she’s about to cause trouble. She’s going to weave a story to her father and expect me to back it up. I sigh.
Xavier is reluctant to go. I know these private chats with Grandfather are what he lusts after the most. I stand in silence, holding up my umbrella, not paying attention to Xavier’s gaze on me.
Never give a clown your attention—they’ll just waste your fucking time.
He’s the type that will go all out to impress Grandfather… but that’s his problem. He can’t recognize the danger in petting and keeping a shark amused and well-fed.
One day, it’ll scent your blood when you scrape your knee, then tear you apart for that mere mistake.
“Grandfather, did I mention that I?—”
“Leave,” Grandfather says curtly, cutting Xavier off.
With one last withering glare my way, Xavier turns and storms out of the graveyard, likely trying to formulate a plan in his thick skull.
At the age of twenty-three, he doubles as a playboy—and a clueless one at that. He isn’t even aware that I have a gift for him that he’ll spend the rest of his miserable life cleaning up.
It’s then that Grandfather presses a button on his wheelchair and swivels around.
“And?” Grandfather starts after everyone is gone, his voice cagey due to the years of smoking cigars. “What’s the situation in New York?”
The question this time is directed to me. He’s got something brewing in that thick skull of his.
“Eli Beaumont is sharp and keeps a tight ship. But I have a way in.”
“And which way is that? Your little band of fools that you’ve been parading as friends for all these years?”
I stare at the tombstone in front of us, thinking back to the heirs.
Alex King, Noah Montreal, the twins, George & Astraea Beaumont… three fourths of the Blues.
But as I think of them, I don’t feel any sentiment.
Sentiment is something I can never have. It’s all just business. A means to an end.
“Precisely.”
“Explain,” Grandfather demands. “How can you get a hold of the city and the town while also wiping out the Phoenix?”
Astraea and George’s father, aka the Phoenix, is the boss of The Phoenix Corp and basically runs most of the underbelly in the States.
Once, that used to be us.
Before there was ever such a thing as the alliance between the four families of Westbrook Blues, everything belonged to the Eastons—until it didn’t.
But now, the fact that Grandfather is asking about just one city tells me that I was right.
Sly old man.
In our world, connections are everything.
Wars over turf is really war over power, influence, wealth, and people.
And Grandfather is desperate to make a move.
And to get some kind of foothold to go up against Eli Beaumont, Grandfather must want to bring in the biggest fish in New York right now.
Everything immediately shifts into place and makes sense, but I pretend as if I don’t quite get it.
“I have my ways.”
I feel his gaze on me, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“You were breached of millions?” Grandfather says, anger igniting in his voice.
“Yes.”
“And you’re still here, not taking care of the matter? Retaliating? Doing something?”
“Grandfather,” I start, my voice low, blending in with the rain. “I already have.”
Vaughn eyes me and then he goes back to staring out at the tombstone.
“You already did?” Grandfather asks, surprised. “W-who was it?”
“I think you already know who,” I say while holding his stare, watching as he slightly shifts in his chair.
“You set a trap,” Vaughn speaks for the first time. “You knew Giovanni would come after you.”
I don’t bother looking at him. “I wonder if Grandfather also knew what his son was up to?”
My question is actively antagonizing. Giovanni was about to set himself ablaze tonight, but his father rescued him.
By the way Grandfather looks away, he’s aware that I know he saved his son because the rules of the Family are simple.
Never wage war unless you plan to see it through.
“Your uncle is not important right now,” Grandfather says instead. “I’ll deal with him myself.”
“You mean you’ll save him before I get to him?”
Vaughn glances at me.
Tonight, I’m not holding anything back. I want it to be clear to Grandfather. I will be going after his sons, one by one.
“You…”
“Save your strength, Grandfather,” I say in a low voice. “You might just have another stroke.”
I’m pushing it tonight, but then again, I’m still reeling.
We stand there, staring at the tombstone for seven minutes and nineteen seconds, until Grandfather clears his throat and speaks again.
“Emmett. Vaughn.”
“Yes, sir?” Vaughn responds respectfully as opposed to my silence.
“It’s down to the two of you,” the old man says. “But both of you are lacking.”
I feel Vaughn’s shrewd gaze on me, but I don’t bother looking at him.
“Prove to me that you can take the helm and run this family like a proper boss. I want to see what you can do.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll prove it to you,” Vaughn says, bows his head, and leaves.
I can tell he’s already got a plan, likely on how to deliver what he thinks Grandfather wants.
I’ll just have to wait and see if we have the same target.
Instead of leaving, I just stand where I am, staring into the distance, the words ringing between my ears.
“Did you not hear me?”
“What changed?” I ask him straight up.
He’s silent but then he answers.
“I know what you’ve been up to tonight,” he says stiffly. “You’ve been going after every fool under your idiot father, wiping them out. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“It wasn’t a secret.” But it’s also not all I’ve been up to.
“Finding your father is not important right now. The Family is. And so far, I think you’ve forgotten that.” He punches his armrest, but the sound is weak due to the rain.
The family is important, huh? What about my mother?
“But then again, if you know that you can’t handle it, if you think that this is too exerting for you, just give up and go be obscure somewhere.”
Exerting?
He suspects something. It’s clear with his choice of words…
“What exactly are you trying to say?” I mutter. “It’s just us here, don’t beat around the fucking bush.”
When it comes to the old man, I never filter myself when we’re alone, and I know he knows I resent him.
If I was someone else, I would’ve been dealt with already.
Grandfather doesn’t suffer insubordination, and respect is everything in the mafia, but I’m not just anyone.
He knows that the only reason he’s still alive is because of me.
I’ve fielded many of the close calls he’s received.
I’ve kept his sinister secrets, his most lucrative and high-risk deals under wraps.
I’ve kept his own sons from killing him off for his throne and because of all that, he knows he can’t just dismiss me.
He needs me, and while I fucking hate to admit it, I need him too.
If he doesn’t legitimately and directly make me boss, it’ll be harder to do what needs to be done.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he snaps. “You had a chance, but you failed! You could’ve married Eli Beaumont’s daughter. That was the damn plan since you were fourteen, but you fucked it up and gave a golden opportunity to that King family!”
I keep my face impassive, not showing a damn emotion or thought.
Grandfather’s ambitions are very clear to me. They might be smoke and mirrors to others, but I know what he wants more than anything.
“I’ll deliver what you want,” I announce.
He eyes me then, looking at me through sharp, green eyes identical to my mother’s, identical to mine. It’s almost like looking in the mirror.
He’s a man dying, but afraid of dying.
I’m dying, and I don’t give a damn about it.
“How do you know what I want?” he hisses.
I stare him down and pronounce each word. “Because I know all your failures.”
His eyes widen in shock.
“And now that your life is coming to an end, I know you want to go down as the Godfather who achieved the impossible. Something your father couldn’t. And you’ll do it by any means necessary, am I wrong?”
We stare at each other. The rain becomes nothing but white noise.
It all comes down to legacy.
To reverence.
Fucking respect.
That’s why Grandfather does this, gathering a hundred of the top members of the Family, then holds a memorial service for his departed father.
He wants to set a precedent, an example of what he wants others to do for him after he’s gone.
Little does he know that I’ll burn this whole place to the ground if it comes down to it.
“You’re not much better than me. You also have it coming.” So he does know! Good! “You’re dying too!”
“My goodness, how did you know that?” I gasp dramatically, pretending to be shocked.
“You…you…” he stutters, his eyes wide. “Those rumors are true, aren’t they?! I heard that something is wrong with you!”
I chuckle then, turning to face my dearest grandfather head-on.
I lean down and fix his heavy coat and slightly adjust the pathetic blanket on his lap.
“Grandfather, I’m so relieved that you know, but the thing is… we all have it coming. It’s just, some of us will go out with a parade of fireworks, blood, and ashes. What about you?”
With that, I straighten up and beckon for Ripley who’s been standing nearby all this time.
“Yes, sir?”
“Grandfather’s been in the rain for too long. God only knows his frail health can’t handle the elements,” I say, holding Grandfather’s dark stare. “Please take care of him.”
“You… our deal…” Grandfather chokes and coughs, stunned by the way I just dismissed him instead of the other way round.
I have intense, insurmountable power and pull.
While Grandfather just said that it’s down to me and Vaughn, as far as the rest of the Family is concerned and the deep underbelly as a whole, I’m the big diablo boss here.
“I have to bid you goodnight, Grandfather,” I mutter softly. “But yes, I haven’t forgotten our deal. I am a man of my word, after all. I will uphold my end.”
“Oh good.” Without meaning to I think, a flash of relief enters his eyes but when he catches my gaze, he grows still as the rain beats down on us.
“But, Grandfather, will you uphold yours?”
Will you keep your mouth shut for now and give me the fucking reins later?
Will you uphold your end by making them all think they have a chance when they don’t?
Will you do all that, even though you don’t know that I will screw you over?
Grandfather and I stare at each other intently.
Here it is. The moment that decides if the war will reign supreme this very night or not.
If Uncle Emilio and Giovanni are snakes, then this man is the king cobra, the biggest and most vile of them all.
But the thing about poison is, I know just how to use it to dispense it, make it work against itself. Well, all but one.
“I will,” Grandfather says after a while. “Like I said, I will do my part.”
I nod slightly, but not at him.
“Sir, let’s get inside and get you dried up,” Ripley says as he wheels Grandfather back to the castle.
I stand there, watching them go until the darkness and rain swallows them up.
“What a fucking liar,” I murmur.
I give the graveyard one last look and spot the empty spot that was supposed to be where my mother would be buried.
It’s lays desolate, muddy, and fucking ignored as if my mother was nothing.
Even if she might be alive, the blatant disrespect to her name, her memory, is not something I’ll let slide, no matter how many heartbeats I have left.
As I leave the mansion, I get the text I’d been waiting for.
Ty: Just confirmed, Governor Hughes is indeed about to make a move.
Suddenly, everything now makes sense.
At the same time, a lightness enters my chest.
It looks like God is on my side with this.
How else can I explain how everything has come into perfect alignment for me?
Not only do I already have a plan, but it turns out that I also have the card that will ensure complete and utter destruction.
How to catch a fish and keep it under your foot?
Use a sharp, shiny hook.
“Well, Angel, it seems we have a date with fate.”
I quickly send a text back to Kai.
Me : We’re going to Westbrook Blues.