But now, with him dead, his birthright had now become my curse. I went from Capo to Boss within the blink of an eye. One bullet and a simple phone call was all it took to change my life and to turn me into the soulless bastard I was today.
I inhaled, trying to calm the anger that had me clenching my fists. Vico had the tendency to provoke the anger in me.
“We can’t afford mistakes like this, Vico.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I think your hunger for revenge is strong enough to let you make stupid mistakes.”
“And yours? You cannot tell me that you don’t want revenge as much as I do.”
“Oh, believe me, it’s all I think about. But I know how to control it, how to feed on just enough to make sure that in the end my need for vengeance will be sated.” I stepped closer, wanting to drive my point home long and hard. “Control yourself, Vico. I love you, but I won’t hesitate to remove you from all of this if I suspect that your lack of self-control will jeopardize our plan. This is bigger than you and me. This is bigger than any of us. This is about showing the entire goddamn world that if you fuck with a Fattore, not even God will be able to save you.”
The way Vico’s eyes turned almost black, the way lines formed grooves on his forehead as he scowled at me, I could only imagine how much he would have liked to plant a fist on my face. Vico had always been the loose cannon, the one whose actions no one could predict. Before Carlo died, Vico was the one who stayed out all night, bringing home drunk girls and screwing them until dawn.
Carlo and I were the responsible ones, the ones who understood that the family name was more important than anything. But even though I understood the need for loyalty toward my father and everything he represented, I also understood Vico’s need to fulfill his own desires. God knew I had desires of my own—dark, wicked desires that stirred inside me. I just didn’t flaunt them in front of everyone like Vico did. I didn’t bring my sordid affairs out into the light. Instead, I kept them hidden in the dark until the shadows could peel away the façade I carried while I smiled at my mother and father, pretending to be what they so desperately wanted me to be…the perfect Fattore—just like Carlo.
Vico backed down, his fists still clenched at his sides.
I straightened, then pulled my vomit-covered jacket off my shoulders and walked to the door. “I need a shower. Stay here, and don’t take your eyes off that monitor. And call Doc if she starts throwing up again.”
Vico nodded, but there wasn’t even the tiniest hint of warmth in his eyes while he stared at me. That was okay, though. Our entire relationship had always been of love and hate. Vico and I never really connected—not like Carlo and I had, which was to be expected of identical twins. Carlo and I always knew what the other was thinking, knew exactly what the other one wanted to say before we even said it. Call it twin telepathy. Call it a freak show. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but the fact remained that nothing could have compared to the bond I shared with Carlo. But that bond was now broken, destroyed by death—by the damn woman currently unconscious on the other side of that wall. And because of that bond no longer existing, I no longer had any light left inside me. Because of the burden that now weighed heavily on my back, I had to succumb to the darkness. But I preferred it that way. Darkness took away one’s ability to feel, and for me to be able to pull this off, I needed to be the soulless bastard that I had become.
Chapter 2
TATUM
Either I had the worst hangover of my life or I was on the verge of dying. Only a large amount of alcohol or death could make a person feel this bad. My head was pounding, the sound of my heartbeat hammering against my skull. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach, causing me to take small, shallow breaths. I was afraid that even breathing too fast would make me throw up—violently.
My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth, and my throat felt like I swallowed sand. It was scratchy and dry, and I was pretty sure my mouth had lost its ability to produce even the tiniest amount of saliva. Basically, I felt like crap.
I moved my tongue, trying to get some relief from the sandpaper stuck in my mouth, and I realized why I hadn’t been swallowing. My mouth tasted like ass. Disgusting, vile ass that threatened to feed the already raging nausea in my gut.
I tried opening my eyes, but a sudden feeling of dread settled over me, making my skin crawl. The way my body ached all over screamed that something bad happened—something real bad. For a few seconds longer, I kept my eyes closed, hoping the fear pulsing through my veins was just the remnants of a bad nightmare. But unfortunately, the second I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar gray concrete wall in front of me, I knew this wasn’t just a nightmare. This was reality.
Ice cold dread started to move through me, all the way up my legs, my spine, until it reached the back of my neck. I was suddenly hyperaware of the feeling of unfamiliar sheets against my skin, and when I pushed myself up, I stared with horror at the old, brown sheets beneath me. These were definitely not the three-hundred-dollar silk sheets I had on my bed back at my apartment.
I grabbed hold of the cotton fabric and tightened my fist while I tried my best to remember what happened, how I got here—wherever here was. Then I noticed with horror what I was wearing—an old yellowed rag that seemed like it had once been a nightgown, like fifty years ago. Where were my clothes?
“Welcome to Hell…”
That voice resonated through my mind like thunder, together with the picture of dark eyes that resembled black holes of hate. And when I closed my eyes, I saw the familiar smile I had missed so much the last few months. But how…
Could it be him? After all this time, could it really be him?
“Carlo,” I whispered, but somehow, I wasn’t convinced. I remembered Carlo’s smile being light and kind, not dark and wicked. It just couldn’t be him.
With narrowed eyes, I scanned across the room. Concrete walls decorated with nothing—not even a trace of paint—surrounded me. It felt cold and damp and empty. Besides the bed and a chair in the corner, there was nothing else in the room. It was grim and completely dismal, which did nothing to ease the panic that rapidly rose inside my chest.
My gaze darted up to the wall, and what sounded like air rapidly escaping a tube came from the other side of the room. A piece of the concrete wall moved, and a hidden door opened. That door was so well hidden I never would have known that it was there if it hadn’t opened right before my eyes.
Painful knots twisted in my gut as my heart started hammering behind my ribs. The softness of the sheets felt like gravel against my skin as I moved up the bed, pushing my back against the headboard. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I watched the door open. It was when I saw who stood on the other side of the door that I stopped breathing.
“Carlo?”
He smiled, and for a split second, hope flared in my chest like a thousand fireworks.
He didn’t leave.