CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
SAINT
As Bernard approaches the building, I pull out my phone and stare at a picture of Elio.
My lips lift into a smile at the sight of him snuggled up in my arms. I had taken these the weekend before his first session with Dr. Khadija.
I leave the app and stare at his phone number, fingers hovering over the dial button.
I was terrified of what it would be like to see my father. I hadn’t visited for weeks, even though I had everything on track with the organization and the syndicate.
I want to tell Elio how much I love him, how I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. But I also wanted him to feel safe around me and recover physically and mentally.
Bernard parks the car around the fountain, and I exit the car and stride toward the house, placing my phone in my pocket.
I step into my father’s office and meet the tall, spry man standing by the open window.
Cool air filters through the space, alive with the amber light that shines from the ceiling.
“Have a seat, son.” He says without taking his eyes off the field.
I unbutton my suit jacket and sit down opposite his throne.
“I have about four months to live.” His voice is hoarse.
“I took over my father’s company when I was sixteen.
Became the mafia boss of the Black Viper Syndicate at twenty-two, shortly after I married your mother.
” He faces me with a full smile. I have never seen my father smile for years.
But here I am, and what’s unnerving is that I see the mix of torture and regret consuming his eyes.
“I gave this family everything! Everything.” A throbbing chuckle escapes his lips.
He walks toward his throne and lays his arm on the top.
His gaze breaks away from me as tears gather in his eyes.
“You stood up our guests twice! Turned down the first marriage I set up. Turned down the second. Hell, you didn’t even confirm whether the traitors we have in our custody are the ones we’ve been looking for.
” He whispers more to himself. Too stunned. Too disappointed.
I know where this is going, so I regain my footing.
He regards me with a glower, eyes sharp with heated indignation.
Behind me, the door creaks, and three soldiers enter the space in black outfits and balaclava masks.
Tension pounds against my bones as my stomach drops.
I know exactly what he’s about to do. I’m reliving a memory.
A deep, jarring memory that has sat somewhere within me.
Lost in years and years of recollection.
“I lost my first child. But you came along, and you became the perfect son. Not your brothers, but you. And I taught you everything. Everything my father, your grandfather, taught me, and still it wasn’t enough for you to understand the simple truth.
” He asserts, jaw tight with restraint. “Maybe I should have focused on Virgil. He’s made a perfect soldier after all. ”
“Father…” The strength in my voice drains away.
“Pathetic. Look what he’s turned you into.”
“Never speak about Elio!”
“The same man who gave away our secrets as if it meant nothing. Have I not taught you anything?!” he barks, his expression shifts into something explosive and dangerous.
“Never speak about him.”
His gaze snaps to the soldiers behind me. “If he speaks again, put a bullet in his arm.” His face darkens, expression destructive. My heart hammers beneath my chest as my hands fidget at my side.
“I made you kill, Taye Deveraux, but forgive me for underestimating that the devil planted himself inside your soul.” He roars, eyes sharp with fury.
I shut my eyes and let out a livid exhale.
I am not a sinner. If loving Elio is a sin that will take me to hell, then I’d burn with him for eternity.
I’m not sick.
I’m whole. I’m fucking complete.
“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to end up like you.” I bark back and surge forward. He doesn’t even move an inch or act shocked.
Bang!
The pain of the bullet shatters my arm, spreading across the nerves in my body. I almost collapse on the floor as blood leaks into my suit. I grip my arm and press against the bullet wound.
“Animal.” His face contorts with disgust.
“Look how Mama ended up! Drove herself off a cliff because you couldn’t love her. Because you couldn’t see her. You… you’re a fucking monster!”
He moves toward me, hands gripping the scotch bottle on the desk.
He swings, and the bottle crashes into my head, shattering across my face.
Blood drips down my head onto my suit, and my eyes lock with the man standing before me.
My gaze burns with resentment. For all the years I have spent pretending, trying to get into his good graces.
I have done everything, and it’s this one thing that disqualifies me from being his successor.
My father.
The man who birthed me.
Staring at me like I was worth nothing.
“And you’re exactly what I have feared my whole life. Weak and fucking incompetent.” He grips my jaw and forces me to look at him. “When you’ve spent a month in the Red Vault, I will hand you a gun, and you will kill Elio Layton just like you killed the other motherfucker.”
A thick wad of my saliva lands on his cheeks, sliding down his jaw. His gaze intensifies, too shocked, and he swipes his hands over his face. His palm crashes across my face, knocking my head sideways.
He steps back and adjusts his suit jacket.
“Don’t worry, son. You will beg for mercy when the time comes.” He looks at the soldiers behind us. “Take him to the Red Vault. Don’t treat his injuries. Let him live with the pain. Until he’s ready to admit how he failed me.”
“Yes, sir.” The men wrap their hands around my arms and force me out of the room.
“And bring that bitch of an Elio to me. I need to paint my office with his blood.”
I move with a violent, stubborn force, breaking free from the men who hold me. But I don’t get far before his soldiers close their hands around me.
My father takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes as a nervous chuckle escapes him.
“Don’t you touch a fucking hair on his head!
” I snarl as the soldiers drag me through the door.
My hand slips free, and I swing, fist flying into one’s jaw.
The other two come at me. One kicks my leg and forces me down while the other drives the head of his gun to my wounded shoulder.
I grunt, body buckling with pain. One gets on my back and forces my hands back.
Another shoves his booth into my head to keep me from moving.
Cuffs clink around my wrists, the cold metal seeping into my skin.
In the last seconds, my teary gaze lifts to the man sitting on his throne.
There’s no fucking emotion on his features. No remorse. Nothing.