25. Damon
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DAMON
NOW
Ibarely manage to stash my burner beneath the mattress before Kyle and Robert burst into the room, their eyes bouncing off the empty walls.
As a teenager, I had trophies and posters littering the space, but those things stopped having meaning years ago, around the same time I realized all I had to look forward to was leading a crime family and spending the rest of my life with someone I loathe.
Mikayla backing out of our arranged marriage has always been a bone of contention with my father, but she said she couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t commit to someone she didn’t love. I may not have been the one to call it off, but Dad has always blamed me.
“It’s polite to wait to be invited in before entering someone’s private space,” I point out, leaning back against my pillows and plastering a look of indifference across my face.
“Who were you talking to?” Robert asks, stepping farther into the room, making room for someone else to step in behind him.
My father.
“I’d watch your tone if you don’t want to find yourself hanging from the gates on my first day as boss,” I snap.
I’ve known for a long time that my father’s men would struggle to respect me, but the closer I come to taking the throne, the more desperate I am to clean house.
I could take out every single one of them and not lose a wink of sleep. Rebuilding would be a pain in the ass, but it would be worth it to know I could trust those around me.
“I’d like to know the answer,” Dad says, his voice even.
I sigh exasperatedly. “If you must know, it was one of De Marcos psychos. She’s going to call me back later today.”
“Don’t bother taking the call.” He steps forward, his hand resting on the piece in his waistband.
Before I can ask why, he gives Robert and Kyle a curt nod, and I barely have the chance to blink before they’re on me.
Why the fuck didn’t I stand as soon as these assholes stepped into the room?
Robert’s knee pins one of my arms down, twisting my shoulder uncomfortably while Kyle struggles to pin the other half of my body down.
They know if they give me the opportunity, I’ll snap their necks, regardless of whether they were just following their boss’s orders.
I won’t stand for disrespect.
Glancing over at my bedside table, I spot my own gun and curse myself for not having it on my body. Admittedly, if there’s one place in this compound I shouldn’t need a weapon, it’s in my own bedroom, but that complacency may have been a mistake.
Not bothering to fight them any further, I turn my glare on my father as he steps closer.
“What the fuck is this about? Losing one son wasn’t enough, you want to have a matching pair?” I bait.
“See, here’s the thing, son.” He spits the word as if it’s personally offended him. “I’m not so sure I’ve lost anyone. I think they walked out the front doors with a fucking traitor in their arms.”
I keep my face neutral, knowing the more surprised I act about a revelation, the less he’ll believe I played no part in it.
“And I think you helped him.”
A rough laugh of disbelief tumbles from my throat. “And what makes you think I had anything to do with this wild theory?”
“You remained inside the compound during the security breaches, giving you the opportunity and the means to set off the alarms.”
I hold his glare, knowing he won’t find what he’s searching for in my eyes. If there’s anything being Salvatore Lombardi’s son has taught me, it’s how to stare death in the face without flinching.
There’s a quiet voice in the back of my head that acknowledges it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to die. What do I really have to live for other than a position I was born into but have never allowed myself to consider whether I really wanted and a lifetime of loneliness?
Especially if Ronan doesn’t come back.
It’s a fleeting thought, but the discomfort it leaves in my chest lingers.
“It’s not like you to beat around the bush, Father.”
If there’s one thing to know about my father, it’s that he loathes weakness. Detests it. And despite how hard my heart beats in my chest, I hold his soulless gaze.
“You are going to bring my traitor son home as well as his little whore. You have two weeks, and if you fail, there will be a bullet with your name on it waiting for you.”
As if to prove their point, Robert’s fist hits my face so hard his knuckles crack beneath the punch and pain shoots through my cheekbone.
Kyle slams his fist into my gut, stealing the wind from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air.
They land a few more hits, each one more painful than the last, but I force my face to remain even.
I’ve taken enough beatings over the years to not react.
It’s not until my entire body is blooming with bruises that the assholes stop laying into me.
Kyle moves out of the way, making space for my father to step up beside me.
His eyes hold mine with a hatred that no parent should ever have for their child, and for once it’s a struggle not to look away.
Bending over until his face is just inches from mine, he grasps my chin and jerks my face up, making my already bruised body scream.
“You will not fail me, Damon. I don’t give a fuck that you’ve had a hard-on for that whore your whole life.
I don’t give a fuck about your loyalty to Ronan.
If you fail to do as you’re told, I’ll have to do it myself, and if I have to do it myself, you and your brother will be forced to watch as I allow every man in this compound to tear the slut apart until she’s begging for death. And then I’ll let them start again.”
Every word is more vile than the last, and my stomach churns at the picture he’s painting.
I’ve always known Salvatore Lombardi had no soul, but this is low even for him.
Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room as if he hasn’t just delivered a death threat to his child.
Not once in my life have I questioned my loyalty to the Lombardi name, but can I really do as he’s asking?
Can I betray my brother and the only woman to ever make me feel something?