Earl’s chest rose once more before he sagged into himself. I felt a pang in my chest, a strange mix of guilt and wistfulness.
My breathing was shallow and quick, still nothing in comparison to the pounding of my pulse. Earl lay lifeless at my feet, his eyes locked on mine. There was hatred but also disappointment in them. Maybe I imagined both. He’d never been a good man, and definitely not a good father, even less to Gray than to me. Still, I’d have never thought I’d kill him. He’d been my guidance on my path to revenge. He’d fired up my hatred whenever it threatened to extinguish. He’d been my idol when it came to women, school, and every other life choice. Many of them had been shitty, but I doubted my choices would have been better on my own. With my old man’s blood running through my veins, a messed-up life had always been my destiny. Falling for a mafia princess was the cherry on top.
That wasn’t why we were here now, why I’d killed the only father figure I’d known since I was a little boy. I hadn’t wanted to see his bad sides, and I had enough bad sides myself so I’d never dared to cast my judgment over another human being. Yet, Earl had gone too far. He’d crossed a barrier that had always been in place, a barrier that took him and our club down a road where there was no coming back from. We should have realized it when more and more members became Nomads, many good men the club could have used during votings.
I was guilty of kidnapping an innocent woman, and even allowing Earl to lock her in a kennel and video-recording her naked. All of these made me feel fucking guilty and like a major dick. We should have stuck with Vitiello and his men. We should have attacked him directly, but at the very least we should have kept Marcella safe from pain. That Earl had begun torturing her, that he had wanted to keep doing it, I couldn’t accept it. I’d seen the look in his eyes. I had been as lost to him as he was to me. He wanted to kill me and he would have done it if Vitiello hadn’t smashed our clubhouse to the ground. He would probably have killed Marcella first and made me watch. I had been a traitor in his eyes, when he had betrayed everything we’d always wanted the club to stand for. Honor and a free lifestyle. A home for all those who didn’t fit inside the confines of society. Brotherhood, friendship. We lost all those along the way and what remained was bitterness and hunger for revenge and money.
Still, Earl’s death had been merciful in comparison to the end Luca would have given him.
I finally dragged my eyes away from Earl. My fingers cramped around the handle of the knife and my skin was sticky with sweat and blood. Some of it my own, but most of it was Earl’s. I met Marcella’s gaze. I wasn’t sure how much of the torture she had watched. She was pale as she leaned against the wall, her arms hugging herself and her knuckles white from the grip her fingers had on her elbows. She swallowed, her eyes searching mine before she straightened and cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said simply.
I nodded, lost for words.
“The knife,” Luca said in a voice like a whip. He was probably pissed that Earl had only suffered a brief time. He’d no doubt make sure I suffered twice as much to make up for it.
I unfurled my fingers and let the knife tumble to the ground with a clang. This might have been my last chance to ram a knife into Luca’s chest, but the hunger for revenge had been replaced by my need to guarantee Marcella’s wellbeing. Once I was dead, and I had absolutely no doubt that her father would soon kill me, Marcella needed her entire family to get past the events of the kidnapping. Even if she’d told Earl that his actions—our actions—didn’t leave scars, I’d heard the slightest tremor in her voice, seen the brief flare of pain in her eyes.
Amo moved forward and picked up the knife, his eyes never leaving me. Hatred simmered in them. I would have felt the same if I were in his place.
“It’s time to go now, Marcella,” Luca said firmly. He motioned at his brother who’d watched everything with a calculating look.
She nodded, but instead of leaving, she headed toward him. He lowered his head so she could whisper in his ear. He shook his head at first but she gripped his arm, her fingers turning white again, and whispered some more. Eventually he pulled back and gave one sharp nod, but he didn’t look happy about whatever he’d agreed on.