Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Not knowing what to do anymore, Miguel rested his hands on his head. What the hell was happening? “What are you doing? I was supposed to die here. There is no other end to this story.”
“So you’ve planned this.” It wasn’t even a question. Nero’s tattooed arms dropped, and he shook his head, staring at Miguel. “Is that why you’ve proven yourself recently? To do this?” he asked, pointing to his father’s corpse as if it were a broken vase.
“It wasn’t your lovely personality that had me sticking around,” Miguel said, despite knowing it wasn’t the whole truth. He might have thought that earlier, but the past few days had shown him a different side of Nero, one that brought out joy deep in Miguel’s cold chest. Still, that shouldn’t have changed a thing. “I had a job to do, Nero, so don’t pretend you don’t understand that.”
Nero blinked and stepped back, sitting next to his father’s limp body. “You heard that, Dad? He had a job to do. And I should understand!”
When Miguel didn’t immediately respond, Nero grabbed Moreno’s arm and moved it to rest on the empty eyes in a universal gesture of shame.
“Oh no, son! And there I’ve been thinking you finally met someone to tango,” he then moaned, making his voice raspier to imitate the dead bastard.
Taking an exasperated breath, Nero shook his head. “Told you, Dad, all men lie. Each one wants something from me. I just didn’t think this one would want that,” he roared, getting up to throw the sunbed over, and in the process roll Moreno to the ground, as if he were a ragdoll.
“I did like our night out, but I had to do this. The time was right.” Miguel mumbled, flooded by guilt. He’d planned his revenge and its seemingly inevitable outcome for years, but he’d failed to account for the wild card that was Nero Moreno. “What are you saying? Should I… go?”
A ridiculous thing to ponder, regardless of Nero’s views on the matter. He had nowhere to go, because the Caimans would eventually hunt him down and do what the Cannibal’s son refused to. Perhaps he should be grateful for an opportunity to make a last call to his mother and report that the tormentor of their family had been executed, but was there even a point to it if she would find out sooner or later anyway? He didn’t want to risk the call being traced to her.
He swallowed and glanced at the gun in his hand. One bullet could end things immediately and spare everyone the trouble of chasing him.
“That’s what they all say, Dad,” Nero roared, increasingly agitated. He grabbed the unfinished glass of whisky still standing on the table by the fallen sunbed and downed it in one go before tossing it to the tiles, where it shattered into a million pieces. “And I didn’t even get my blowjob.”
Ants crawled over Miguel’s nape with their hot feet as he raised the gun to his mouth. He couldn’t risk being tortured for information on his mother. She deserved to live out her life in peace.
Nero looked at him, baring his sharpened teeth, but when his eyes met Miguel’s, they opened wide. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You fuck things up for me and want to leave me on my own?” he asked but didn’t move an inch.
Miguel stalled, feeling like a paper boat thrown into the ocean. By design, it was meant to sink, so how was it staying afloat? “I just want this to end.”
Nero took a deep breath. “Put that fucking thing away. This is not how you get your brains blown in my presence!”
Miguel holstered his gun, and put his T-shirt back on, unsure what Nero still wanted from him. He pointed to the bodies. “This will have repercussions. You can blame it on me, and take over. There is no other way.”
“Are you blind? No one wants me at the reins! I will be dead within a week, if not today.” Nero spat at the stone tiles before stabbing his finger at Miguel’s chest. “You caused this, and now you’ll keep me safe. You owe it to me for saving your life!”
That finally sparked something inside Miguel. “I didn’t ask to be saved!”
“Too bad. Should have killed me too,” Nero said, stepping close and watching him from under furrowed brows.
Miguel swallowed. “You’re not guilty of your father’s sins.” In fact, Nero had grown on him in a weird way. Like a good dark coffee. An acquired taste. No less bitter now than before, yet enjoyed for the depth of its flavor.
He didn’t want to see Nero dead.
Nero got even closer, until Miguel had to lean back to avoid having his lips touch the crazy bastard’s forehead. “I’m alive, and you have to deal with it. You’re not allowed to die until you make sure I’m safe, because you fucking. Owe. Me.”