Chapter thirty-three #3
My father, however, has been incarcerated since his capture. The two men worked together without our knowledge for years. Aiden was the man Violet ran away with at eighteen; he’s also who my father agreed to give his daughter to in return for his loyalty.
“When did you get out?” I ask my father, and his lips thin to a nasty smile.
“Who said I was released? The benefit of having a terminal illness, son, is they allow you hospital visits. All I needed was a few loyal men to ensure my escape. This man,” he boasts, signaling to Aiden, “is more loyal to me than any of my bastard children.
He’s ensured that I’ve been kept comfortable and could escape when the time was right. It’s more than any of you did…”
I look down at the decrepit waste of a man before me. His skin is withered and yellow. In less than a year, he’s transformed from a strong and dangerous enemy into someone barely able to stand. But in his eyes, the vile look is still there, the twinkle of enjoyment in other people's pain.
“No doubt you’re wondering why you are here,” he says casually.
He wriggles in his chair as if wanting to rise.
Aiden goes to his side, taking his elbow and supporting his fragile frame.
My father rises, wobbling unsteadily from foot to foot.
He moves closer so we are almost nose to nose.
The stale smell of unwashed teeth hits my nostrils, and my stomach clenches.
“You’re going to save my life.” The words are blunt and direct.
A grin spreads on his sunken face, and I narrow my eyes.
“Never,” I whispered angrily. “You’ll have to kill me before I ever save you.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do, son. A life for a life. I need a liver; you’re the perfect man to supply it.”
Aiden supports my father as he lowers down into his wheelchair again.
The old man coughs once more, wrinkled hands moving slowly to his mouth before saliva spews out onto his lap.
“And as for your brother, the knowledge that he didn’t save his baby brother will be sweet revenge. Russell always saw himself as the hero, albeit a deranged one.”
“It’s been a sudden diagnosis,” Aiden says, taking up the conversation.
I stand silently, listening to him. “Your father has an unusual AB blood type that you and your brother share. It seemed the sensible course of action to locate a donor from the family. Biological sons are the best course of action.”
“Liver donation can come from a living donor,” the doctor says meekly, her voice pathetic and barely audible. “We only need to use part of his liver.”
“I want fucking all of it!” my father snaps. “This little jackass took everything from me, him and his band of vigilante bastards. My home, my businesses, and my freedom. He will repay me with his life.”
“I owe you nothing,” I hiss, furious with the curveball before me. Of all the people I expected to open my eyes to once the light reentered the room, my father and Aiden Marley were the last men I ever expected to see.
“Perhaps you owe me less than your brother,” he concedes. “Or that treacherous whore of a sister you have. But the doctor requested that we claim the donation from you and not your brother. It seems my little surgeon has a soft spot for him. Her pathetic feelings saved his life but ended yours.”
I look at Dr. Rivera, and she skulks back to the corner of the room she was hiding in before.
“He hates you,” I tell her. “You’re nothing to him.” Her face twists, but she doesn’t respond, only looks back blankly. All color has drained from her face, and she appears completely exhausted.
“Doctor,” Aiden says firmly. “Please advise the patient of the timeline. In other words, how long he has left on this earth.” His focus flicks to me. “I’ll enjoy watching you die.”
The doctor gasps at the crude statement and visibly takes a breath before speaking. “I have a few tests to carry out, but we plan to operate tomorrow evening. I have a colleague on stand-by to perform the removal, and I will transplant the organ myself.”
“Excellent, do you hear that, boss?” Aiden chortles, grabbing my father’s shoulder. The two men smile at each other, and the finality of it all becomes more clear. “Tomorrow, your death sentence will end.”
“Thank you, my boy,” he replies. “You are the son I should have had.”
The doctor clears her throat and refocuses their attention. She straightens her shoulders, a false confidence in her eyes.
“And after this,” she says firmly to Aiden, “my debt is clear. You’ll leave me alone and return my husband.” I glance at her, confused by the statement.
“Yes,” Aiden agrees. “Once you’ve saved this man’s life, I’ll write off any debt owed. You can go back to your regular life, and I’ll return that pathetic cretin of a man to you. With all his organs intact.”
She visibly relaxes before my eyes, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place. Not only has the doctor been carrying out illegal surgery to repay debts, but she’s also trying to save her husband.
“What should we do with him?” a brute asks, gesturing to me.
“Put him back in the box,” my father advises. “That’s where he’ll be ending his day tomorrow anyway. He may as well get comfortable.”