CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ELIO
It’s been a week since we left Ali’s cabin. He didn’t come with us. He’d left with Spencer on an important assignment. It was just Bernard and me living in this remote underground outside of Queenstown, where we remain untraceable.
Every minute I’m here, Saint’s getting worse. It’ll be harder for me to get him back.
We were supposed to storm the Red Vault today, but Cyrus insists I need more training, and so does the experienced soldier who has been training me for the past week.
She had been cautious because of my healing wounds, but I didn’t care about that.
All I wanted was to get strong enough to join the crew that would extract Saint from that godforsaken island.
I can get myself through the pain and the blow. I can and will take it all for him.
I sit opposite the bedroom mirror, staring at my reflection as I replace my old bandage.
The room has gray walls. A queen-sized bed sits in the middle of the space with a large dressing mirror and a nightstand.
It wasn’t fancy. I didn’t need it to be.
I’m not here to sit around and relax. I’m here to train and fight.
I’ve gotten a lot of cuts from getting tossed around by my trainer. Her name is Blessing. She has several experiences working as a hitwoman and also running things with Cyrus in the past.
I rise to my feet when I finish, just as a knock comes against the door. Bernard hooks his head through the entrance, and I look up at him with a smile.
“She’s waiting.”
“Can we talk for a minute? I have something to say.”
He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.
My shoulders rise as a shudder moves through me. “The maps. It was me.” I utter. “And I apologize that my actions made Saint question your loyalty.”
“I know, Elio.” He offers. “But you helped save my life and I truly appreciate that. It doesn’t mean I excuse your actions, but I hope this time you know where your loyalty lies.”
“Without question.” I nod.
I throw on a black polo shirt and head out of the room.
Amber light shines overhead, lighting the narrow hallway.
We take a turn once we get to the end of the hall and hurry down the stairs, which leads us to the basement\training center.
Half of the large hall is for combat, and the other half, separated by a thick concrete wall with a steel door entrance, is a shooting range.
Blessing squats on the floor, tying her boots when we get there. She straightens up with a smile and pulls her long brown locs into a ponytail. “I didn’t think you’d make it today.”
Outside of the grueling combat experience, Blessing has been teaching me how to take a gun apart and put it back together. How to put in a bullet and take off the safety. Today is the day when I finally take my first shot.
“I wouldn’t miss a session.” I grin at her.
She hands me a gun, safety glasses, and an earmuff, and I put them on, adjusting them until they fit.
I load the magazine, feeling the weight of the gun in my hand.
It’s not the first time I’ve held a gun since I arrived here.
It has been easier, and the memories of the things that happened to me don’t come up very often.
We walk through the door, which opens into the well-lit room with about six rows of shooting stalls, each with a target at the far end.
I step up to a stall, glancing around at other soldiers practicing in the other stalls.
“Take your position.” Blessing says.
I do as she instructs and hold up the gun to the target. She walks up behind me and adjusts my shoulder and my arm.
“Good.” She remarks.
I hold steady, taking a deep breath as the target zooms in and out of focus.
The first shot jerks, sending a powerful vibration up my steady arm. I take another shot, and another, and another, until I run out of bullets.
Blessing hits a button, and the target pulls closer. My brow furrows with doubt when I study each shot.
Not good enough.
“I need to try again,” I tell Blessing, and she gives me a nod.
A new target comes up just after I reload my gun. I spread my legs apart and hold my arms steady. Then I squeeze the trigger.
SAINT
A gasp scrapes out of my throat as the entrance glides up. I’ve been lying on my side, staring at the walls, since the last time that soldier came in to drop me a fruit.
Footsteps approach, sending an unnerving chill down my spine.
My lips tremble, and my body quakes with fear.
I have been trying to keep it together. To think of Elio more.
But it’s no longer enough. This place is chipping away at my sanity, stealing all the good memories I have.
All that’s left is a sickening, suffocating feeling that settles in the pit of my empty stomach.
The footsteps come to an end. And the cage goes extremely still, too still, it’s chilling.
“Son.” My father chokes out.
My spine goes rigid.
Memories flood in an instant. His words burn into my brain.
“And bring that bitch of an Elio to me. I need to paint my office with his blood.”
My mind races with questions. What if he had gotten to him? If he’s already dead. What if he’s here with him?
“Son.” It’s almost as if he’s disgusted saying that word. I turn around and look at him. “You’ll lose an arm if that wound isn’t treated. It’s been two weeks.”
“Fuck you.” I bite out even though my voice is barely audible.
“You’ll die.” He stares at me. “But it’ll only be one less disgrace to my bloodline.
Virgil’s ready to take over everything. He’s been with me for the past two weeks, learning everything I taught you.
” He reveals as if that’s enough to get me to give him what he wants.
“Matter of fact, he’s courting the beautiful lady you turned down at your cousin’s wedding. ”
Nothing I do will ever be enough.
I peer at him, and my lips curl into a disappointed smile.
He shakes his head and straightens up. “Fuck him up.” The soldier standing at his side storms toward me.
His boot crushes against my injured arm, and a tortured, mangled cry gouges out of my lips.
He grunts as he slams against my ribs and my face.
I choke on the coppery taste of blood and spit the red, thick liquid across the floor.
Hot tears burn down my cheeks like acid.
“I taught you everything!” he roars. The soldier pulls me to my feet and slams my back against the wall. Pain spikes across my spine, and my head hangs low as blood spills from my lips. “And you disappoint me.”
He looks over his shoulder at my brother Virgil. “Tell him.”
Virgil inches forward, jaw tight, eyes holding a sliver of remorse as he regards me. “Mason is gone. We searched for him throughout the entire city, even in Queenstown. He’s not coming back.”
“That’s not true!” The taste of copper floods my mouth from grinding my teeth as I hurl the words at him. “That’s not true.” I whisper to myself.
“End your suffering. End it now and come back home with us.”
“No, he’ll never leave me!” Vein strain in my neck as my voice turns rougher.
“He’s gone.” Virgil pulls out photos from an envelope and tosses them before me. Three dead bodies. “He fled the city with your personal driver.”
My pulse pounds in my chest as I stare at the pictures of my father’s soldiers. Blood pounds in my ears. Spittle escapes my lips and lands on the pictures. He tosses more images at my feet.
Two pictures of Elio driving out of the city. “Cross got these from the city’s database before he wiped it.” Virgil sighs. “He’s really gone.”
Silence presses in from every direction. My stomach drops, and a trembling breath escapes my lungs. A cold feeling latches onto my spine as the truth settles into my skin.
My tears mixed with blood land on the picture of Elio.
He’s not gone. He’s not really gone. He didn’t leave me.
Why wouldn’t he, though? Of course, he’d think I abandoned him. Or worse, he was waiting for the perfect moment to leave every sickening thing about me behind. Bernard doesn’t have a reason to protect him. Not after I’d questioned his loyalty. Not when he’s the reason, I questioned his loyalty.
No, it’s not true.
My father sighs defeatedly. He turns on his heel and strides toward the exit with Virgil right beside him.
My fists clench, and the hollow ache spreads across my skin. If he’s not coming back, I might as well hand myself over to the mafia king of the Black Viper Syndicate. I can’t stay here anymore. Not when it’s ruining me in pieces.
“Wait.” The word sticks to my throat. Chains rattle as I crawl to my feet and stagger toward my father. My knees give out when I’m inches away from him. I collapse at his feet, hands trembling violently as I touch his foot with my bloodied fingers.
“Forgive me, Father.” My plea breaks apart.
I can’t look at him. I can’t bear to. My voice wears thin and frayed from pain and betrayal.
“I have sinned.” I bob my head repeatedly, eyes red from my tears.
“I’m a sinner. I’m sick.” My chest heaves violently.
“Please.” I rasp. “I’m a sinner,” I whisper consistently, pushing every memory I have had with Elio away.
Stomping them beneath the sole of my feet until they’re completely lifeless and ineffective on me.
“Please, Father. This desire has tainted my soul.” Another plea spills out, smaller than the last time.
“I let it. I let it. I let the devil sow his seeds inside me. I let those seeds sprout, and I let them grow. I let him taint my soul.” My throat burns raw as I stab my finger into my chest. I keep begging even as my voice turns hoarse.
Pain wraps around my body like a python constricting its prey.
“Please, show me your mercy. Even if it’s just a drop of it.
” I finally look up at him, lips trembling, vision unsteady.
He stands there, watching me plead. Then he squats down, rough hands holding my face. He doesn’t utter a word. He doesn’t believe me. Beside him, Virgil wears a neutral expression on his face even as he watches our father strip me of every form of dignity.
“My poor son.” His face contorts with concern, but it goes cold seconds later. “You’re lying to me.” He stands up and turns on his heel.
“Please.” I yell at him. The soldier behind me pulls me back with the chains, then he leaves me in the darkness.