thirty-four
“Don’t! You don’t have to do this! You don’t have to hurt him!”- Leo
“No. Fuck you.” I turn, training my gun on Peadar. He looks surprised for a split second, his tiny black eyes widening. I don't trust Peadar. Not even a tiny bit.
Peadar has proven time and time again that he’s manipulative.
He will say whatever it takes to get me to do what he wants.
He won’t protect Violet. She would be his hostage, like me.
No more. I will not do this. I will not kill Callisto, and I certainly won’t stand by Peadar as he takes over a sex trafficking operation.
“Leo, think about what you’ll be losing,” Peadar says, eyes traveling from the gun, to my face, then back again.
I don’t give a flying fuck what I’ll be losing.
I don't have anything to lose anymore. I don't have my family.
I don't have the family I created. I won’t have Callisto.
I have nothing to lose. Peadar will kill me, but I refuse to be the reason that Callisto dies today. I won’t.
“You never planned to ransom Callisto, did you? You probably never even sent the ransom letter. This was your plan all along. You knew he would be home when you sent us to his house. You knew he would interrupt our break-in, and we’d bring him back. You never wanted money or art. You wanted power.
You wanted to use him as fucking bait to kill your enemy.”
My voice gets louder with each accusation.
“Leo, put the gun down, or I will blow your boyfriend up,” Peadar threatens, but he doesn't deny the accusation. I hate him. I hate him so much, I itch to strangle him.
Peadar shakes the detonator at me, smiling because he thinks he has the upper hand. His thumb is on the button. Can I shoot him before he presses the button? No, I can’t take that chance.
Peadar’s body could fall on it. It wouldn't take much pressure to set it off, and then Callisto is dead. I can’t let that happen. No. The very idea of seeing the light leave Callisto’s eyes makes me want to scratch my body until it bleeds.
A fist explodes against my jaw. The world blurs, white-hot pain jarring my skull. Dammit—I was too distracted by his thumb on the button.
When I turn my head back, grabbing my sore jaw with my free hand, Peadar’s cold fingers encircle my wrist. He pushes, trying to aim my gun back on Callisto. I swing the fist of my free hand toward Peadar’s face, but my forearm meets his when he blocks my attempt.
I use Peadar’s grip on my wrist to my advantage, pulling Peadar toward me and bringing my knee up, aiming for his groin.
He dodges. His grip on my left hand loosens, and I rip it from his clutches.
Peadar looks at the door and takes a deep breath.
Before his cry for help can ring out, my fist connects with the meaty part of his throat.
Peadar coughs, grabs his throat, and tries to speak.
Nothing comes out but shallow wheezes. I advance on him.
The thunk of my leg making contact with his side echoes in my ears.
The detonator drops to the ground, clattering loudly as it hits the floor.
I freeze, bracing my body, but the heat of an explosion never comes.
Peadar retaliates by throwing a punch. But he’s slow from our fight, so I easily block it.
My fist connects with Peadar’s face, the crack of his jaw ringing throughout the room.
My eyes are on the detonator that is still lying on the ground, seemingly harmless if someone didn’t know the destruction it holds.
Peadar spits blood, using my distraction to tackle me to the ground. The wind is knocked from my lungs, and my grip on the gun comes undone. The distinct sound of cool metal sliding against the hardwood floor cuts through the room.
I don't have time to catch my breath before Peadar is on me. He aims a punch at my face, but misses, his momentum bringing his body down on me. This is my chance.
I slip my hand into Peadar’s jacket pocket, grabbing the key to Callisto’s freedom. Peadar rights himself a moment later, easily pulling my hand from his jacket as he does so. He doesn't even notice that I picked his pocket, too wrapped up in the fight.
I grip the key in my right hand, flipping it so the point is wedged between my fingers.
I take a deep breath, aiming my fist at Peadar’s eye.
He lets out a raspy scream when the key slices his face, his voice still fucked up from my earlier blow to his throat.
His jawbone is visible in the jagged red cut, the white a stark contrast to the red.
Blood splatters all over my face, making me flinch. I hit him again, throwing his body off mine. Peadar drops like a stone, motionless. I twist to push myself up, but heavy hands slam me right back into the hardwood.
A shadow looms over me, pinning my shoulders, and the cold ring of a pistol barrel bites into my forehead. I freeze, closing my eyes and opening them again. Callisto’s dad. Altieri’s finger is on the trigger of his own gun, starting to squeeze it. This is it. This is when I die.
I will never know if I was able to save Callisto, but surely, he will be okay. His dad won’t kill him. Apparently, he will allow someone else to kill him, though, which is just as bad. Peadar’s men are still right outside the door. How they haven’t burst in yet is beyond me.
“Dad!” Callisto’s voice hits my ears, loud and stern. Altieri turns his head to look at Callisto, and I do the same. My brows hit my hairline at the sight of Callisto holding my discarded gun.
Callisto has it trained on Altieri. He steps closer to us, the gun gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles are turning white. It looks foreign and wrong, like looking at a photoshopped picture. It doesn't look like it belongs there, and I cannot believe I’m actually witnessing it.
“Callisto, put that down before you hurt yourself,” Altieri says, his tone condescending and dismissive.
He turns his attention back to me, and I’m still gripping the key like a lifeline.
It is. It’s Callisto’s lifeline. It’s Callisto’s freedom right now, and someone will have to pry it from my cold dead hands, which may end up being sooner rather than later.
“No. Get off of him.” Callisto’s demand is strong and unwavering.
He steps even closer to us. The light blinks on his bomb vest, as if ticking with the beats of my heart.
Callisto’s nostrils flair with emotion. He still looks scared, but there is a determination in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
I hold my breath. This close, they do look a bit more alike than I had initially thought.
Altieri and Callisto have the same hairline. The same eye shape.
“Callisto, don't try to get involved in something you know nothing about,” Altieri says in the same way a parent would talk to a small child who asks where babies come from.
Callisto isn’t a child, though. He knows what the gun in his hands can do.
He is well aware of what all of this means.
Callisto now knows who his father is, and what he’s capable of.
He isn’t stupid, and I kind of want to punch Altieri for treating him that way.
“Dad, put your gun down, and I’ll drop mine. Don’t hurt him. Just let us leave.”
Callisto doesn’t take his eyes off of his father long enough to even spare a glance at me.
The intensity of the moment is tangible somehow.
Like a two-ton weight sitting on top of our bubble, threatening to crush the walls at any moment.
It is suffocating, as if I shouldn’t even be a part of it.
“I can’t let him leave, Callisto. Don’t be so fucking naive. He works for Peadar. You can’t actually trust him.”
Altieri looks down at me with hate in his eyes.
Does Altieri recognize me at all? Does he know that he tried to drug me and sell me to the highest bidder?
Does he remember the faces of the youth he robs?
Probably not. They probably all blur together for him, becoming green money bags and not actual people.
“No. It’s you I can’t trust,” Callisto retorts.
“You can trust me. I’m your father. I have given you everything you ever wanted. He needs to die. This has to be done.”
Altieri’s finger flexes on the trigger again, and Callisto looks panicked.
He takes another step closer to his father, tears welling in his green eyes.
His features morph with anguish as he watches.
He presses the barrel of my gun to Altieri’s temple. I shake my head.
“Callisto. Don’t! You don’t have to do this! You don’t have to hurt him!” I can’t let this happen. I cannot allow Callisto to become him. A killer. A monster.
I lick my lips, continuing, “Just—just let him kill me. He won’t hurt you. Let him kill me. Please. He’s right. It has to be this way, Princess.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Callisto shakes his head, tears flying off his face. His whole body shakes, but the gun is still trained on his father's temple, his finger on the trigger. The hammer is pulled back, waiting for Callisto to fire. It’s surreal, as if I am watching it from outside of my body.
Callisto opens his mouth to speak again, “Let him go, Dad.”
“Why? Because you love him? Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so fucking stupid. You should listen to your little boyfriend. He knows he’s gonna die regardless of what you say.”
My entire body stops working at Altieri’s mention of the word ‘love’.
I don't even remember how to breathe, or how to push blood through my veins.
“Chiudi la bocca, Papà! Shut the fuck up!” Callisto screams, the anger rolling off him in waves. I have never seen him look so angry, not even when he was screaming at me.
Fat tears stream down his face, his hair wet with sweat. His skin is pale, almost translucent in the dull light of the study. He looks deranged, on the verge of snapping, and I am almost scared to see what happens to the person on the receiving end of his rage.
“I can’t believe you fell in love with one of Peadar’s fucking minions. I knew I should have forced you into the business when you were younger. Your mom wouldn’t let me and now look at what I have. A son who fell in love with the enemy. May as well have had a fucking daughter,” Altieri spits,
as if it’s the worst thing that he could ask for in a son.
It resonates with the last words my own father said to me.
I have a son who fucks other men. That’s not a son. That’s a fucking daughter.