Chapter 5.2
“Come and sit, Grace,” my father all but demands, placing his arm around her delicate shoulders and guiding her to the head of the table.
His seat. He pulls it out and helps her sit with the biggest smile on his face. His gaze never leaves her.
“Can you believe it, son?” he marvels, brushing the hair from her face and putting it over her shoulders.
“No,” I rasp, shaking my head as I move on autopilot and take my seat.
As soon as our asses hit the seats, servers burst into the dining room carrying trays of delicious-smelling meals. The aroma fills the room, and my stomach rumbles loudly from the effects.
It's on the tip of my tongue as I watch my father hand my mother a fork to ask if I've fallen into another universe. She's here. My father is acting uncharacteristically engaged and showing his genuine emotions like he did before when she was around near the beginning of my life.
What the absolute fuck happened? To me? To this fucking house?
“I'm sure you have questions,” my mother says timidly, grasping my wrists softly.
That's a goddamn understatement.
“Eat,” my father insists impatiently, gesturing for her to take another bite. “You’ll need your strength.”
My ears ring when I look her over with a skeptical eye. This was the woman my father loved so damn much that he built her this home without a second thought. Then, he bought her a zoo so she'd have the animals she loved dearly right in her backyard. Something he has not maintained since she disappeared when I was little. So young, I barely remember her existence outside of her disappearance and my father leaving me all alone in this mansion with the ghost of everything. I swallow hard as she bites into her salad.
"Your mother has returned from the depths of Shadow's dungeon." My father lifts his chin, staring at my mother with a protective gaze. It is like he has been transported back in time to the moment she left or was kidnapped. Where he is madly, deeply, head over heels in love with her, but that’s not the spark in his eyes I see right now. It is possession. Control. “I should have known it was that rat bastard's first point of attack! Taking what was mine from the very beginning.”
I tilt my head. Math has never been my strong suit. Right now, though? It’s racing through my mind and calculating the lies. My mother disappeared when I was young. If Shadow stole her from us, then that would mean he’s been around plotting for almost twenty years. My father could have had an enemy for that long, but Shadow didn’t start coming onto our radar until three years ago.
How fucking suspicious this story is turning out to be.
“Were you able to leave after Shadow bombed us yesterday?” I casually ask, despite my heart threatening to burst through my chest. To distract myself, I cut into my food and take another bite.
She offers me a tight smile. “Yes,” she whispers. “It was the only time in all these years I could get out of the dungeon he locked me in.”
I do not know what happened to her. My father never elaborated on the subject, refusing to speak her name before he left here, wiping her existence from this home. Before abandoning me here, he could barely look at the palace he built for her.
"Shadow's dungeon?" My eyes float between the two of them, waiting for their answer.
"Indeed. Hence why war is about to begin. Not only did that heathen attack us in our domain, but he also had my fucking wife this entire time," he growls, tightening his grip on his whiskey tumbler. "I will take them down piece by piece when I get my hands on them," he snarls now, filling the room with rage.
The entire time? All twenty-some years of her being missing? Has Shadow been hiding out for that long, waiting for the right moments to strike?
Something isn’t adding up.
"Yes," my mother whispers in a small voice, giving me a sad smile. "Many years ago, I was taken right off the street." She shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Throughout my torture and imprisonment, you and your father were all I thought about. I ached to get back here."
"He took you?" I ask, tilting my head.
She moves slightly, repositioning herself in the chair before giving me a slight nod. "Yes," she murmurs. “Shadow has been around for years, plotting against your father and his empire," she says, reaching over to take my hand in hers. “I can't believe I'm finally able to touch your hand. You've grown so much," she whispers as tears fall down her cheeks and cascade off her chin to the table.
Warning bells ring in my mind when I look into her eyes and see nothing—no love, life, or emotions.
“Then you know who he is? Have you seen his face? Where is his headquarters? We need to get ahead of this now before he discovers you’ve gone away,” I say, retracting my hand from her touch and abruptly standing. “If we can attack first, then we can be on top.”
My mother’s lips pop open. Her emotionless eyes track my movements as I pace a few steps.
"Sit the fuck down and shut up,” my father growls, coming to her defense. “No more questions. Let's have a nice lunch together like it should have been. You're upsetting your mother," my father hisses, his angry mask slipping through the facade he's putting on. "We'll discuss this more over dessert. She’s told me everything I need to know.”
“I’ll expect answers later,” I demand, easing myself into the chair.
My father glares at me. “Do you now, boy? Do you think you deserve answers?”
“Gabe,” my mom murmurs, pulling his hand into hers. It’s incredible to witness how he melts for her. Odd, too. Gabriel doesn’t bow to anyone. Or listen to words of advice. But for Grace? She seems to be the key to it all.
My brain aches the more I sit here, listening to my parents speak to each other in hushed tones. My mother placates him, patting his hand and talking him down from the angry ledge. It's like they've slipped into their roles again, even though they've been apart for years.
After we've finished our appetizer of salad, our main course of salmon, asparagus, and a side of rice to complete the meal, my stomach revolts from so much food inside of it, nearly sending me to the bathroom.
My eyes drift over my parents from across the table. She looks at him, sending him a blinding smile, dazzling him instantly. He leans forward like a love-sick fool, captivated by everything she whispers to him. He’s in her web of whatever bullshit she’s peddling, and I’ll be the first to figure it out.
"So, how did you make it home?" I ask, eyeing her when her crystal blue eyes land on me.
"Oh, Jericho," she murmurs, clasping my hand tightly and avoiding my questions altogether. If I were trapped in a dungeon, I’d be eager to spill all of Shadow’s secrets, including how I escaped.
"How did you escape?" I rasp, eyeing her French-tipped nails as they rest against my flesh. I raise my brow at her pristine nails. It is too surreal to have her back here. The woman I prayed and begged to come home every night after she disappeared. Now, she’s here in the flesh, but I’m not sure she’s the same woman she once was.
I know for a fact she’s not.
My mother takes a deep breath, squeezing again. "Oh, baby," she murmurs. "It's a long story of how I finally got away. But I'm here now. And I'm going to help your father take him down." She sniffles slightly, leaning into my father as he dabs her cheeks with a napkin. "I'm here to stay," she says with a sad smile.
"Here to stay?" I repeat her words, staring at the smile on her face that doesn’t reach her lifeless eyes.
Something in my gut sends warning bells to my mind again. Isn't this just a little too convenient? My mother is back here after so long. And she's avoiding answering my questions. She’s just another person to add to my ever-growing list of suspects.
I’ll keep my eye on her. No matter how demure and weak she pretends to be. There’s something nefarious brewing behind her eyes. And my father is too fucking stupid to see it. How fitting, though. Right? My father. The man who thinks he’s too smart for the fucking world will get taken down by his wife, who sleeps in his sheets.
"Excuse me," my father mumbles, holding up a finger as he reaches into his pocket. His brows raise as he gets up and walks out of the room, aggressively bringing his phone to his ear.
I watch as he goes, narrowing my eyes when his hushed words reach my ears, but I'm unable to tell what he's saying.
"So, your father brought me up to speed while you were out on what you've done for the family so far. You're a man now," my mother's soft voice breaks through the rampant thoughts going through my mind. “You've gone through your initiation and the ball. How are you feeling?” she politely asks.
“How wonderful it is for him to keep you up to date on my life,” I say with a gleaming smile. “I feel complete now after bending my knees and pledging myself to this organization. I was raised that way, you know? I’m a man now. A true Viotto for the family.”
If I hadn’t been observing her so carefully, I never would have seen the stiffening of her shoulders. “Oh, I know. Your father is so proud of you.” Yeah, that’s bullshit, too. I’m doubtful he used those exact words to describe how he feels about me.
“Who is he, Mother?” I ask, point blank. “Shadow has been gunning for us for years, sending bombs and death threats and attacking our celebration. Surely, after all those years of captivity, you know who he is.”
My mother offers me another smile, this one with malice hiding behind it like a sneaky shadow showing her true colors, just as I suspected.
“I never saw his face, Love. You can ask your father, who’ll tell you the same thing. They kept me prisoner in the dark dungeons beneath the ocean. He operates off the coast.”
“You never saw his face?” I raise my drink to my lips, sipping it. “You were gone for twenty years. Surely, you caught sight of him at some point. That is a long time to be locked up.”
“Yes, well. In that time, I did not see his face,” she says faintly. “You do not understand what I’ve been through, Jericho. It was awful.” Her shoulders shake, and she puts her face into her hands, sniffling several times.
That’s what putting pressure on people does. It makes all their emotions bleed through. Whether they like it or fucking not.
And my mother? Oh, she deserves a round of applause for her performance.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I say with a false sense of calm and sincerity.
She’s hiding something—way too many things for my liking. I’ll unravel them string by string. For now, there are a million things I need to do. I need to find Journey. And I, one hundred percent, don't trust my father in what he's saying. If Shepp and Journey are buried under the tower's rubble, I need to be there, not playing happy family with my father and mother. Not to mention, I'm in disbelief that Shepp and Journey are under there in the first place. I would have done anything to protect Journey. We all would have.
My father moves back into the room, slowly pocketing his phone. A perplexed look crosses his face when he sits down in his spot and folds his hands on the table.
"What's wrong, Gabe?" my mother whispers, reaching out to lay a hand on his wrist and stroking her thumb along it. Under normal circumstances, my father would have shooed her touch away, but I’m guessing these aren’t normal circumstances.
"It appears they've found Shepp and your wife," my father says, not mincing his words. "Dead." His expression never changes, except for a twinkle in his eyes as he delivers the devastating news. "Such a shame," he says with false sadness, taking a sip of his whiskey which has yet to empty.
I blink several times, throwing back the remnants of my drink to give myself a moment to think. Many thoughts rush through my mind. Is it real? Are they truly dead? Surely, they can’t be. I’d feel it shatter my soul the moment they left this world. Right? Fuck. My disbelief leans toward no. They’re alive somewhere. Captive, maybe? My father has told me too many lies over the years, and this? This is the fucking cherry on top of his house of falling cards.
I don’t believe a fucking word he says. But I have to play the part, right?
“No,” I rasp, shaking my head as my glass tumbles from my fingers. “How?” My word trails off as I cover my mouth, keeping my gaze on my father.
"Gabe," my mother chastises in horror. "How can you say it like that?" she asks, bringing a fist to her painted lips as they quiver. "His wife." Her eyes squeeze shut dramatically, holding back the tears in her eyes.
"How certain are you?" I ask, masking my feelings as my brain scrambles together a plan.
What my father does not know about Journey's ass, the better. There's one way I will know if she is truly under that building. The fucking tracker Arrow's crazy ass put in her beneath the UV tattoo of our initials she's never discovered. Sure, she had a wicked bruise Arrow monitored, putting ointments—among other fluids he had no business using—on her flesh to soothe the pain away, so she didn’t irritate it further. We couldn’t exactly come out and tell her we’d marked her as ours in all possible ways.
She would have slaughtered us one by one. And that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. She was already too stubborn for her own good. Finding out we put a tracker in her would have thrown her over the edge.
"It's unfortunate what happened, son," he says with false sympathy, lacing his tone as his head shakes in disgust. "We'll avenge them," he growls. "We'll march into Shadow's territories and destroy what is precious to him." His teeth gnash together when he sucks in a breath, calming himself down.
And the Oscar goes to… Gabriel Viotto, for his leading role in fake sympathy. An emotion he’s never quite mastered. He should keep trying, though. Maybe one day, he’ll fool us all with false tears.
"And I'll help," my mother whispers. "I'll tell you everything you need to know about Shadow and his headquarters. I know it like the back of my hand.”
If she was imprisoned for years and tortured in a cave-like dungeon, how would she know it like the back of her hand? Nothing is adding up, but my father seems to lick it up like milk.
"That's right," Gabe says as a deadly look crosses his expression. "Your mother has insider knowledge."
"So, you don’t know who he is?" I rasp out, swallowing the lump in my throat.
See, if anyone deserves an Oscar—it’s fucking me.
She offers me a soft smile. "I don’t know who he is, love. He never showed his face, hiding behind masks and his recruits. But I know where he hides. I was there for years, darling. Trapped within the walls of his prison underneath the ocean."
A hint of sadness clouds over her features. My mother's pain overtakes everything about her, twisting her meek features and displaying it all over her face. But her words make little sense. Trapped within the walls of a prison. So, how does she have insight? It’s something I’ll have to discuss with her at great length.
"Under the ocean?" I question, raising a brow. "How is that possible?"
"Enough of this chatter at the lunch table," my father chastises gruffly. "Your mother and I are heading out for a meeting at the church with the other members of the family. You’re not invited just yet. You're to go to your room until dinner. We're having special guests tonight." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a walky-talky. "Aiden, come," he grunts, placing it back in his pocket.
I shake off the anger crawling beneath my flesh. I need to regroup. Find my fucking phone. Then, I can see if Journey is truly dead, which I have my doubts about. Shepp, on the other hand? I have no clue. I only hope in my heart he’s with her. Wherever she may be, maybe I should have taken Arrow up on the offer to put trackers in each of us for cases like this.
"Has he always been your errand boy?" I question, standing tall at the table when my father takes my mother's hand.
He smirks at me. "Keeping you close and safe is of the utmost importance right now. Many of the families were injured in the battle at the tower. Arrow is in the hospital. Sheppard is gone. How would I survive if you weren't here?" he asks, shaking his head. “You're my heir. I need to protect you from the wrath of Shadow and anyone else who may have a vendetta against the Viotto name.”
Answer—he wouldn't.
I'm his bargaining chip and tool to use when he pleases. He thinks he's a very smart man, but I'm beginning to believe his delusions are setting in deeper. How can he trust my mother, who stands beside him with a smile like no time has passed? She may be a doe-eyed-looking woman standing demurely next to him. But there’s something more there behind the facade she’s erected.
"Oh, I think you'd carry on, Father," I say, curling my fingers on the table.
"You're my heir, Jericho. You're the one who is going to carry on after all this. So, we'll see you this evening for dinner. Then, we can talk about the future more. Now, your mother and I have a lot to catch up on." He grins again, gently nudging her until they leave the dining room and head toward the attached garage door.
"Come on," Aiden grumbles, nodding toward the stairs.
"Such a good dog, aren't you?" I ask, raising a brow when he smirks.
"I've got more freedom than you," he snorts. "Now that the other two are out of the picture, you've got nothing and no one to back you up."
Oh, wonderful. He's taunting the sleeping wolf. He doesn't realize what I've got in store for him, does he? As everyone sleeps soundly in their beds tonight, Aiden and I will have a very serious loyalty conversation.
For now, I'm on the hunt for my phone, wherever it may be, because it’s the most secure piece of technology I have.
"So, you're going to play puppy dog to a man who doesn't give a shit about you?" I question as we climb the stairs.
Aiden's fist flinches at his side, showing his aggravation. "I'm not a goddamn puppy dog, asshole," he growls, turning on his toes to face me on the top step. His finger pokes into my chest. "Every goddamn thing you've done at that club. Every word you've said behind your father's back has been relayed to him." He grins at that. "I was the perfect Trojan horse, wasn't I? The perfect spy to stand beyond the VIP door, waiting for you to fuck up."
"Hmmm. And what exactly did you catch for Daddy Dearest?" I raise a brow, shoving my hands into my pockets.
The boys and I were always conscientious about what was said within the walls of the club, considering it still belonged to my father. He had plenty of security cameras mounted on the walls—guards who continued to do his bidding. There were enough opportunities for him to spy. Then, out of the blue, he signed it over to me as a present for becoming a part of the family. We worked our asses off to make that club what it is today with no help from the man slowly bankrupting the family to death with his careless spending. My father has dipped his fingers into every business he owns—which is a lot all over town and even beyond.
Our best security measure was ensuring that we'd use sign language if we discussed anything related to my father. Only the three of us seemed to know the language, and no one else had a clue.
Aiden's smile slips a millimeter. So, he's been feeding the old man little slivers of conversations he can understand when we're not signing to one another.
'What exactly did you tell him, Aiden?' I sign in his face, watching the movement in his eyes.
"Come on," he grunts. "Let's lock you in your room for the night so I can get on with my life. I have a job to do."
Interesting. He cannot understand sign language. So, what did he have to say to my father? Sure, he knows what we do for the public since he has escorted needy patrons into our office at Rave. But that is the extent of what he knows. Besides, my father would not mind the loans and safe havens we have given to people. It gives a good name to the Viotto family.
"You do what you have to do," I say once I walk through the threshold of our large bedroom. "And I'll do what I have to do," I say, sending Aiden a scathing smile when he closes the double doors behind me, and a lock from the outside clicks into place.
Interestingly, they locked me in here, not knowing what I may have hidden on the inside. My eyes scan the room in search of cameras or other devices that may spy on me while my father is away. I place my ear to the door, listening to Aiden as he mutters to himself while leaning heavily against it.
I purse my lips, satisfied with being alone, to gather myself and find my phone. If I can find the tracking information, I can get my eyes on Journey to know she is safe. Knowing my father like I do, though. I know he's taken every piece of technology out of this room and hidden it from me for the foreseeable future.