Chapter 24 Caelian
TWENTY-FOUR
Caelian
Tulio can’t even bring himself to respond. But what he doesn’t realize is his lack of response is an answer in and of itself.
He’s in a state of shock as I confront him, his eyeglasses low on his nose and the syringe hanging limply in his hand. He thought he was going to get to administer another one of his bullshit treatments with no questions asked, yet here I go throwing a wrench in his plans.
“Mr. C…” he starts, then failures to continue. “I… I never… I… I wa-wasn’t…”
“Spit it out!” I roar, taking an angry step toward him. My heart twinges inside my chest, protesting my temper at a time where I’ve already been suffering a flare up. “You’ve been feeding me poison that does more harm than good, haven’t you? TELL ME!”
“I… I’ve only been…” he stammers, his eyes widening behind his lenses. “I’ve… I’ve been f-following orders!”
“WHICH WERE?” I boom, slamming the door shut, twisting the lock. I start toward him again, quickly closing the gap. “What were you fucking orders, doctor? Tell me in your own words!”
“Your father…” He gulps down more air. “He asked me to do some trials on you. J-just some tests of diff… different—argh!”
He grunts as I seize him by the front of his doctor’s coat and slam him against the wall. His skull cracks against the plaster almost hard enough to leave an indentation. His glasses fly off his face completely, breaking into pieces once the pair hits the floor.
A second passes where he loses focus in his eyes—I’ve slammed him so hard, he’s probably seeing stars right now.
But I don’t give a single fuck.
He should be grateful all he’s received is a head bashed against the wall. He’s been my doctor for over a decade, regularly pumping me with shit that was supposed to make me better.
Nothing was ever mentioned about trials and test runs. I was never told I was a guinea pig being subjected to what sounds like experiments.
Perhaps worse than experiments—perhaps, I was kept ill intentionally.
“So you've been sabotaging me,” I say, my voice low, edged with fury. “Haven’t you?”
“W-well your father… he said… he always said it was necessary! That it was for the… the greater good! Bu-but you did… you really did have a condition, Mr. C! You really did have—argh!”
I’ve slammed his head against the wall a second time, jerking him in my hold like a ragdoll. A sense of cruel satisfaction fills me watching how his head rocks back and forth and his limp body sways.
“I was following orders!” Dr. Tulio cries out, sniveling like a pathetic fool. “I was just the doc-doctor, Mr. C. They made me do what I’ve done—they said that it was for Zinc Co’s research. That it could help thousands suffering from severe heart conditions!”
“Just not his own son? Fuck his son! His son can be kept ill and dependent on medical experiments his entire life!”
My grip on Tulio loosens as another swell of rage hits me. I turn it on the rolling table with the syringes full of the treatment he had planned to give me. With a single sweep of my arm, I send the tray crashing to the ground and the different syringes tumbling in every direction.
“You have to understand. They needed… they needed someone to monitor long-term exposure. The effects under stress and other variables. He said… said the key to a viable formula was a subject who could withstand the different treatments! Someone strong. Someone—”
“Like me,” I snarl. “He made me the test subject to advance the pharmaceutical company.”
Tulio’s eyes widen then drop to the ground, the silence between us loud with confirmation.
I pace back and forth across the room, cracking my neck and listening to the pounding beat of my frail heart.
The heart that’s probably been irrevocably damaged from years of trial and error. More than half my life spent being subjected to experimental medications that seemed to have been prepared for mass market.
…and my piece of shit father is already dead.
I already killed him, which means I couldn’t even hold the old, decrepit piece of shit accountable even if I wanted to.
“That tracks,” I snarl eventually. “That explains why I went from being a sick boy to a severely sick young man. Then even worse as I’ve grown older.
I was never meant to get better, was I? Which is also probably why my father never guaranteed me the throne.
He was open to the other three fuckers for a reason—he always knew I wouldn’t live long. ”
Tulio puts his hands together like he’s praying. “What if I told you I could help? Pl-please let me correct some of the damage that’s been done! I have a treatment that I—”
“No more of your fucking treatments! You want to help me? Then you’re going to lead me to the others responsible for this shit. You’re going to get me access to Zinc Co.”
“But, Mr. C, Nero—”
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re worried about what he’ll do to you! You should be more scared of me!”
My voice rumbles out of me as I close the gap between us, fists curled and ready to launch. He backs up against the wall, shaking like the pitiful and fearful man he is.
“Yes… of course… I… I can take you…” he stutters. “I can gr-grant you access.”
“Best decision you’ve ever made, doctor. You might actually survive this.” My hand snatches at the front of the lab coat and drags him with me on my way to the door. He has no choice but to come with, easily overpowered by my brute strength.
If I can’t make my father pay for what he’s done to me, I can exact my revenge on the others.
Everybody who has ever had a hand in Zinc Co and participated in my destruction.
The city of Dresden looks cold and unwelcoming even on a warm evening like tonight.
The setting sun casts everything in a gold glow, highlighting the many tall skyscrapers that tower over the city.
But when you look closely, street by street, you see the misery on everyone’s face; you notice the decay that worsens the deeper into the city you make it.
Tulio sits in the passenger seat beside me, saying nothing for once, which is yet another confession of his guilt. His fingers tug at one of the buttons on his shirt sleeve, a nervous twitch he probably thinks I don’t notice.
But I notice everything now. I’ve been forced to. There’s no part of this world I can afford to look at gently—I was not only raised with debilitating pain, I was taught from an early age that there were few good things in this life.
…except for her.
Nevaeh has always stood out among the darkness.
Even in my most painful moments, in the throes of my paralyzing pain and my heart lurching inside my chest like it might give out, she has always represented what can be pure about this world.
Mia bella ballerina.
She’s been taken, but I won’t ever let anybody hurt her. I will do whatever it takes to get her back and bring her home where she belongs.
My grip tightens around the steering wheel, more to silence the thoughts than to steady the car.
Matteo doesn’t know what he has in store for him. If he thought I was barbaric when I murdered his twin brother, then he’s truly in for a surprise.
I will rip him apart limb by limb with my bare hands. I’ll rip his heart out and present it to mia ballerina in apology for everything she’s suffered.
And if he’s hurt a hair on her beautiful head—I inhale a deep, ragged breath to keep myself from flipping the fuck out.
Nero must’ve offered him a handsome price for his betrayal. He sunk his hooks into him like he’s done to everybody else, including the pieces of shit in my family.
Carmelo, Cristian, and Coreno have all been cowards willing to be bought off and easily influenced. They learned from my father how to prioritize profit and the illusion of power, all while cowering to the man truly in charge.
It’s no wonder the Ziccardi family has never prospered. Everybody has always bent the knee to Nero and the Vorones.
But that is where I differ. That is where I can’t be bought.
My father must’ve known this about me from a young age; I’ve always been the outlier. So what did he do? He sabotaged me, using me as the guinea pig for his business with Nero and the rival family.
I’m not sure there is a bigger example of cowardice in existence.
I turn onto Springfield Avenue, the road that leads to the giant corporate tower that sticks out like an ugly sore thumb.
An architectural behemoth of cold concrete and mirrored glass with no color in sight.
Zinc Pharmaceuticals Company, often shortened to Zinc Co.
“You should know, none of us had much choice,” Tulio says when I turn off the engine. He’s finally stopped sniveling, though his fingers still tug away at the button on his shirt sleeve. “We were doing what we had to do to survive. Nero—”
“There is always a fucking choice,” I interrupt coldly. “You have a choice whether to be a coward and give in or be brave and face the consequences. You have all been cowards, and that will not be forgotten or forgiven. Let’s go.”
We get out of the vehicle and approach the tall iron gates.
The company is closed today, considering it’s a weekend, but Tulio has an access badge he uses to scan us through.
The gates groan open with a mechanical crank that echoes across the deserted facilities. Tulio glances at me uncertainly. I motion for him to continue, making no effort to hide the guns strapped to my hips.
We enter to silence, our footsteps the only sound on the premises.
I’ve only been here once many years ago when my father insisted on giving me a tour.
The place has hardly changed—the floors are polished, the color scheme monochromatic and dull, the air itself permanently cool and smelling of industrial bleach.
Tulio walks a couple paces ahead. He gestures toward the directional signage mounted to the wall as we pass them. I glance at each one, making a mental note of what they say.
Left for Human Testing—East Wing.
Right for Pharmaceutical Analysis.
Straight ahead for Executive Access.
“They do most of the biowork on the lower levels,” Tulio explains, avoiding my gaze. “That corridor leads to the restricted test rooms. Past that is the gene mapping center and the cryo-bay.”
“And Nero’s office?” I ask, already knowing the answer but forcing him to say it.
“Top floor. Private elevator. No one else has access—except a few like me, technically.”
“Then take me to him.”
“He won’t be here. It’s Saturday—”
“I said take me to him. I want to see his fucking office!”
Tulio dares not deny me a second time. He presses the call button, and the elevator doors shudder open for us.
In order to access the top floor, he has to scan his badge again. By how red his neck turns, it’s obvious he’s nervous, wondering if he’ll wind up in trouble with Nero next.
But it doesn’t fucking matter what happens to Tulio. He was just a puppet. Just the medical doctor my father and Nero used to experiment on me.
I’m looking for true revenge… after I ensure Nevaeh is safe and sound.
When the doors slide open again, we’re greeted by a long corridor that feels more like a mausoleum than a corporate floor. The lights overhead flicker, casting patches of shadow that stretch ominously across the slate flooring.
Tulio sets off down the hall with me half a pace behind. “Even if this is where Nero keeps the lockbox, you’ll never be able to access it without the key.”
“What have I told you?” I snarl. “Shut the fuck up unless I ask you a question.”
We’re coming down the hall when I catch onto another voice on the floor. It’s coming from the only door which is partially ajar—the one that bears Nero’s name.
I recognize the smooth East Coast Italian accent right away. I’ve spent most of my life listening to my cousin.
“Yeah, yeah… I told you, if this works, we’ll make out like fat cats,” Carmelo explains to the person on the other end of the phone. “All three of us. Nero thinks he’s running the show, but we’ve got the press on standby and the investors lined up. We’re golden.”
My pulse slows like the calm before a storm. Then it explodes as a surge of adrenaline rushes through my veins. I find I can no longer control myself as I give into the pent-up rage I’ve long held for my treacherous cousin.
He doesn’t see it coming.
One second he’s pacing Nero’s executive office on the phone. The next, I’m barreling toward him like a rhinoceros on the attack.
I crash into him like a battering ram, driving him to the ground in a crushing tackle. I land on top, clenching my hand into his shirt as I draw back my other fist.
“Caelian… what the—” he gasps, but that’s all he gets out.
My fist collides with his face with a crunch that vibrates up through my knuckles. It’s the first hit of several to come as I pull back my fist for another.
“I’ve been waiting,” I snarl between blows, “for a day like today.”
His head jerks to the side, a trail of blood smeared along his jaw, and for once, the bastard has nothing to say.
Good.
Because I’m just getting started.