Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Oh, God.” My mom covers her mouth with her hand.
“It’s an eerie feeling.” My dad stands to pull my mom into his side. “To hate a man and be thankful for him. I met my soulmate because of Luca Taletti. He put her in my path. Then he gave me you.” Dad stares at Vincent. “For that and because of your mother asking, I let him live. My part in it is over. His fate lies within your hands, son.”
“He will die,” Vincent vows.
“So be it,” my dad agrees without hesitation. “But Sergei’s fate belongs to our Olivia.”
I swipe at my cheeks to clear the tears away. “I love him. I know it’s crazy. That I haven’t known him long, but—”
“Sweetheart. Your father and I are the last people you would ever have to explain that to.”
“We have to save him.” I jump to my feet. “I don’t care if he loves me or not. He saved me. If it wasn't for him, Luca would have sent someone else. I tried to kill him. I even begged him to kill me, and he wouldn’t. I made him bleed, and he only held me closer.” All of the little things Sergei did to protect me flood my memories. How could I have ever believed he didn’t want me?
“She did fuck his nose up pretty good.” Leon smirks.
“You headbutted him?” My dad chuckles.
“After I tried to flip the car.” I smirk.
“What?” my mom shouts.
“What? I thought he was going to kill me so I was going to take him with me.” My mom’s expression is pissed and proud. Only she could ever pull that off.
“All right. Decisions are made,” Vincent agrees.
“Sal, Sergei’s brother. I met him. I think he might be more of an ally than he even knows,” I tell them. “If push comes to shove, I think he’ll land on Sergei’s side–on our side.”
“I’m apt to believe that,” my dad agrees. “Luca rules with fear. It’s a very sharp double-edged sword that will get you in the end.”
“I say sooner rather than later.”
Luca Taletti needs to die. It’s not Taletti blood that’s evil. It’s one man poisoning the well.
23
SERGEI
One of my eyes is swollen shut, and I’ve been tasting blood for the past fifteen minutes. Even so, I get back to my feet, refusing to let my father see me beaten.
I spit a wad of blood onto the warehouse floor as my father circles me, his fists raised as his men stand and watch. They’ve seen him dish out brutality like this before, just never on his own son.
He lands another blow to my ribs. I grunt from the pain but keep my feet beneath me.
Sal stands like a statue, his eyes never leaving mine. I give him another brief shake of my head. If he tries to make a move to save me, he won’t survive it. I need him to live, if for no other reason than that he can help protect Olivia. He knows what she means to me, what I’m giving up so that she will live. I do it gladly.
Another blow lands, this time on my battered cheek. I see stars for a moment, then come back down to earth. Wobbling on my feet, I manage not to fall.
“Was it worth it?” My father shakes out his fists and rubs the knuckles on his right hand. I suppose his age is making this sort of beating painful for him. Good.
I spit another wad of blood and glare at him.
“Was that pussy worth it? Was it so fucking good that you decided to throw your life away over it?” he barks.
If my hands weren’t tied behind my back, I’d have them around his throat, squeezing the life out of him for referring to her like that. As it is, I stare him down as a million pinpricks of pain radiate through me.
Sal scrubs a hand down his pale face. “Dad, maybe—”
Our father whirls on him. “Did I ask you something?” he snaps.
Sal shakes his head. “No, but Sergei—”
In a blur, my father backhands him. “You’ll speak when I say you can speak!” he bellows. “Not before. Not to whine for your brother’s life. Not to try to help him weasel his way out of this!”
Sal is unmoved, as if he barely felt the blow at all. But I know it hurts. That’s one thing my father excels at–making it hurt.
Our father turns back to me, a wry smile on his face. “Brothers stick together, don’t they?” He shrugs. “I was the youngest brother in my family. Did you know that? I don’t think anyone talks about it anymore, but I had an older brother, one who was supposed to take over the family when our father, bless his soul, died.” He shrugs. “He died, tragically, before he ever got to take the reins. And do you know why?” He moves to me again, his hands at his sides.