Chapter Twenty-Four
Zahra
In the vague dream I was having, something was buzzing. Continuously, urgently, and distant. It maintained a sequence that just stretched on—nonstop.
The sound slowly dragged me out of my sleep daze and back to reality, my eyes opening up, heavy and tired. I groaned into the pillow and angrily fussed above the sheet, as the buzzing continued.
With a frown that I was almost positive would burn the device, I raised myself a little, searching for my phone, and finding it on the nightstand at the other side of the bed that was quite cold, very neat—I’d woken up alone—my annoyance sank immediately.
I dragged my body to the other side of the bed and picked up my phone.
Vitale.
“What the hell does this fucker want?” I groaned, dropping back on the bed as I closed my eyes, answered the call, and pressed the phone to my ear. “What is it?” I snapped.
“Where did you keep your phone? I’ve been calling all morning; do you think this is fucking funny?” The anger in his voice held a seething tone that had my eyes snapping open and my senses on alert. I brought my phone to my view and caught that the time was one in the afternoon.
Placing the phone back to my ear, I rubbed my eyes. “I was asleep; I had a rough night. What’s going on?”
“Oh no, sorry to disturb your beauty sleep; nothing really is going on, just my fucking life being ruined, that’s all!” Something shattered on his end, telling me he had flung a fragile object to the wall or ground.
Frowning, I sat up. “What happened?”
A strangled sound left him. “Everything is ruined, Faizan, every fucking thing—everything I’ve worked my whole life for is gone.”
“Slow down—slow down, what do you mean?”
“The seat, Faizan—” He sounded broken, his breathing ragged. “Eight years, I’ve worked tirelessly for eight fucking years, and now it’s gone, slipped out of my hands … everything.”
Oh God.
I got off the bed, unable to stay still, sudden sweat beading on my skin inside the hoodie I wore. “I thought you said they didn’t take a vote until the middle of next year? You had all the Society members in your corner; we made sure of that.”
“We did,” he practically growled. “But guess what?”
The menace in his tone ignited goose bumps on my skin. “What?”
“Somebody suddenly decided to be generous … fifteen fucking million pounds went in support of my drunkard brother. They got him in … they’re yet to make a final decision, which they informed me they would make next week, but we both know who is getting it.
” He laughed humorlessly. “You wanna take a wild guess at who donated that money?”
“Marino? That’s crazy, he can’t influence the decisions of the Society unless he previously had ties with them.”
“Well, apparently years ago, his father did.”
I closed my eyes, gritting hard. “Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed! What the hell did I even do to your fucking boy toy—”
“Vit—”
“He ruined my whole life, and for what!” Something shattered again.
“Because I spoke to you? Does he know how hard I’ve had to work to take my father’s place in the Society?
Does he know what is on the line and what happens if my fucking brother takes that seat?
My mother—everyone, everyone who has put their trust in me, Faizan … I’m finished.”
“No, no, you’re not. There’s still time, we can still—”
“We? There’s no ‘we.’ You left me! If you had been here, if you had been by my side like we fucking planned, I would have gotten that seat—”
“It’s not over, V. The final decision is made next week, yes? I will talk to Elio and make him undo whatever he did.”
“No need for that, there’s nothing to undo.” I could tell he was pacing furiously, his breathing was uneven. “I want to kill him. I will kill him. I will fucking murder that bastard and then murder his soul and fucking spirit until there’s no entity tied to his fucking being.”
“Vitale, just breathe. We will figure this out—”
“I want him dead, Faizan. He fucking played a bad hand. A terrible hand, and I am itching to show him what I’m capable of.”
“Continue along that path, and you will be dead before you can even raise your gun to shoot him, Vitale,” I said, rubbing my head at the headache that had begun to surface.
He went quiet, letting out a shuddering breath.
“Listen to me. Now is not the time to lose your cool, okay? We can’t have people see you like this; we’ve come too far for you to go batshit over a little stone in your path; you need to get your shit together. Where are you?”
His breathing was all I heard as he forced out the word. “Home.”
“Is anyone there with you?” I asked him.
There was a strained sound from him again, and I knew he was holding himself back from completely losing it. “People are around, yes.”
“Go to your room. Now. Align your steps with each breath you take.”
After a short while, I heard his heavy footsteps and incoherent counting, and then a door opened and closed.
“Have you been drinking?”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” he snapped again.
I blew out a breath. “Vitale. I am asking because I can hear your breathing pattern, and I need to know if you need to take your meds now or—”
“I am fucking fine!” he yelled. “My life just got fucking ruined, and you’re miles away asking about some stupid meds, pretending you care if I live or die!
You don’t get to do that, Faizan! You don’t get to fuck with me like this when you’re fucking around with someone else.
” Another shatter and a sharp shuffle as if he had left the phone elsewhere.
What followed next was chaos, and I pressed my eyelids closed as different clashes followed, some shatters, some thuds, angry groans, and grunts—more shatters, more and more and more; I didn’t even know how long it lasted.
I just stayed on the line, listening to this man who had managed to stay calm for almost six years—after almost hurting someone he cared about—lose control in just a few minutes.
He cared so much about himself that he didn’t let something as manageable as anger issues mess with him. He got himself help, and he was better, better than he used to be, but hearing this, I knew how hard the blow of Elio’s actions had hit him.
Hell, even I felt the blow. We had worked our asses off to get him to a position above his brother with just wits and cunning.
Elio … God.
That man had targeted Vitale where he knew it would hurt the most, where he knew the damage would create more damage. He didn’t kill him—no—he was torturing him from the inside out—like he had done proper research on what exactly would tip off Vitale and drive him to the very brink.
He had given him time and space and made him believe he was let off the hook with just a primal warning—then he had struck, and he had won.
I felt terrible because I knew how hard Vitale had worked and how far he’d come to be in this place mentally, only to mercilessly break like all his growth had meant nothing.
Elio had played his hand well, and he was apparently still playing it.
I could see it clearly, the way the mind of my boyfriend worked.
First, he instilled shock in Vitale’s mind, and then devastation, before it slowly progressed into anger, Vitale’s only flaw—the one he had been burying so deep all these years and was successfully healing from.
Then, slowly—ever so slowly—he would lose his mind and play right into Elio’s trap; he would want to attack.
He would give Elio the perfect opportunity and excuse to do whatever he pleased without retaliation from the Society because then, everyone would know that Elio’s empire never struck first; Vitale was the one to throw the first punch.
Therefore, it was within the rights of the Marino empire to take him out.
The clashes and shattering stopped, and only loud, distant breathing was heard.
He was trying to calm himself, but I could hear a tiny wheezing sound that got higher and higher as seconds passed.
I heard footsteps and hurried movements, drawers opening and slamming closed until they stopped, and then a strong puff of air down his throat—an inhaler—I knew because he rarely got asthma attacks, but whenever he did, it was around the house, within reach.
His mother would never take that chance.
I waited a few beats, listening to him calm down, as my nerves did.
His calm breathing drew closer, and a slight shuffling followed, indicating that he had probably picked up the phone.
“Are you calmer now?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I know how this looks and how hard you have worked to get this far, but you cannot break now. That’s not what we do, remember?”
“Yes.”
“Now, more than ever, I need you to trust me. There might be nothing we can do about it since the money has already been paid, and your brother has already been sponsored. But I will talk to Elio and try to get him off your back. If you attack, I guarantee you’re the only one who will get hurt.”
“I can’t just let this slide. If he wants to play a game, he must know I am happy to play too.”
I sighed. “He knows that, and that is exactly why you will lose. Let it go, Vitale. Let the position go.”
He shot out a laugh that was born from withheld anger. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No. I am saying you can get something even better.” I allowed my words to sink in. “Do you want to be the one that’s voted in? Or the person who approves and makes the final verdict on who gets voted in?”
Silence, and I knew I had caught his interest.
“What do you mean?”
“If we get that flash drive, we hold the power over your family name; we hold every secret the current Serpent head has tried to keep from the public eye. With your power, my power, and your impending inheritance, we can take him out and put you higher than your enemies, and then you could even choose to do whatever you want with your brother.”
“That sounds too good to be possible.”
“It’s not impossible. Not impossible for me, or you. I need you to trust me, Vitale.”
“For how long?”