“I know it’s a tough time for you right now, Seb.”
I scoff, because tough doesn’t even begin to describe what this time of the year is like.
Fucking excruciating is more like it.
I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and look up at him, waiting for what else he’s going to say to attempt to make my life any better.
“How’s your mum doing?”
I continue staring.
There are only a handful of people who know the brutal truth of just how bad shit is with my mum, and Coach isn’t one of them. He knows that she struggles since the loss our family suffered, but he has no clue that she’s one shoot up away from leaving me an orphan.
“Same as. I think we’re long past a miracle cure at this point, Coach.”
He nods, looking totally out of his depth.
Back in the day, he had quite a prolific football career, but I’m not sure high school coach was ever really his calling in life. He wants to help, I can see it in his eyes. He wants to support us, help us achieve whatever it is our heart’s desire, whether that be professional football or anything else. But talking about the heavy stuff with damaged teenagers isn’t really his forte.
“I just need a couple of weeks,” I lie. “Things will settle down, go back to normal.” Whatever the fuck that is. “I’ll get focused again.”
“I’m not concerned about your focus on the field right now, Seb. I’m worried about you. About the path you’re headed down.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He quirks a brow, silently asking, “Do you?”
Everyone knows who we are, what our surnames represent and the kinds of things that are—and will be—expected of us in the future. None more so than Theo. And I see concern in the eyes of most of our teachers.
I guess being a soldier in the Family isn’t exactly what they consider a successful future. They want us to head to Oxbridge and make our fortunes as lawyers, doctors, MDs of huge corporations—just like the parents who pay the insane tuition this place demands to allow their kids to attend.
But that isn’t our reality. We might make it to university—it’s always been in mine and Theo’s plans, depending on what the boss wants—but our futures were sealed the day we were born with Cirillo blood running through our veins.
“You’ve got nine months left here, Seb. Make the most of it. You’re going to be an adult for a long time.”
Don’t I fucking know it. But what Coach doesn’t understand is that I’ve been a fucking adult for years. Every single time I prized a bottle out of Mum’s hands, carried her to bed, bathed her, brushed her matted hair, I grew up that little bit more until I was nothing more than a boy drowning in the reality of being a man in our world.
Blood, death, and corruption.
That’s where we’re all heading, and there’s fuck all any of us can do about it.
I’ve been working for long enough to know exactly what’s expected of me. I’ve got my hands dirty on more occasions than I want to think about just trying to keep Mum alive. It’s a part of who I am.
It’s a part of everyone around me.
Even my little hellion.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
And it’s going to be so fucking beautiful when she finally learns the truth. When she discovers what I’m really capable of and just how many ways I’ve dreamed of getting my revenge.
My fists curl, hunger for blood and retaliation making my hate burn red hot.
“So what do you say?” Coach’s voice comes back to me, but I have no fucking clue what he just said. The images in my head are of our princess at my mercy, her skin stained with her blood courtesy of my knife—the one she’s stolen. And they’re all consuming.
“Y-yeah, you got it, Coach,” I say, hoping like fuck it’s what he wants to hear before pushing out of the chair, grabbing my boots and marching from his office.
By the time I’m booted up and jogging out onto the field, the rest of the guys are running drills.
I fall into step beside Toby, who glances over at me, a warning in his light blue eyes that I shrug off.
He’s worried about the princess. Well, fuck him and fuck her.
She doesn’t need anyone looking after her, and he needs to keep his fucking nose out of my business.