The Omen raises his hand in a silent signal to tell Lion he’s fine, then turns to face me completely. His hand snaps up and steadies the barrel between his brows as he pins me with his green glare.
My breath leaves my body as I stare into the same eyes I once dreamed about. The eyes Malia had stolen from her father, every minuscule blue fleck in the exact same spot. When they say there is a thin line between love and hate, it’s hard to understand until you’re staring in its face.
Those emeralds I loved getting lost in with Malia mirror the man I hate so much. The man I’ve built my life around hunting. Despite Malia’s betrayal, could I bring myself to watch as the life fades from those exact eyes?
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” The question falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Weakness is not what I need to be showing when surrounded by the enemy, but I can’t help counting everything I’ve lost because of this fucking man.
“You have been after me a long time, Liam,” The Omen says, pulling me from my internal battle. “If you are going to pull that trigger, then look your enemy in the eye—this moment will not come again.” He releases his grip on the barrel and lets his hand fall to his side. “Or, we can go to my office and I can answer all of your questions. We cannot talk here.”
The Omen is right, this is the only chance I’ll have, but the part of me that wants to watch him bleed is fighting with the part that wants to know why.
“What makes you think I would believe anything you tell me?”
There’s something like triumph behind his eyes that pisses me off and has my blood boiling again. I can see Lion pacing from the corner of my eye, waiting for the moment to pounce. If The Omen doesn’t kill me tonight, then one of the Castellos will. If I pull the trigger right now and finally end this, will I be left wondering if I would ever have the answers? Assuming I survive this, that is.
I’ll get another chance—even if I have to make it.
“Lead the way,” I say, pushing The Omen away from me and lowering my weapon. I let my gaze leave him to look at the other threat to my left. Lion stops pacing and zones in on me when I meet his glare. There’s a silent promise there that says this isn’t over between us.
The Omen turns on his heel, giving me his back as he leads us through the halls of the mansion. Either the man is incredibly stupid for doing so, or he’s one cocky motherfucker—from what I know of his daughter, I’d say the latter.
We file along, and I try to take note of everywhere we are going in case I need to remember how to get out but being at an advantage of walking directly behind my enemy it’s hard to concentrate. Elijah walks behind me, playing referee for his son and me as Lion’s stare burns holes in my back.
Finally reaching a room, The Omen places his palm on some sort of reader that unlocks some mechanism between the door and the jamb, allowing us to enter. Lion slams the door shut after he enters, crossing his arms over his chest, the tension in his jaw as the muscles contract while he slaughters me with his eyes.
I smile at him, fanning his fire, the adrenaline from our brief fight making me reckless. He bares his teeth and steps forward and I straighten to face the oncoming threat.
Elijah swings his arm out, stopping his son from advancing me. “Stand down,mi hijo.”
“If the two of you cannot behave like civilized men then Lion you will need to go back to the ball.” The Omen breaks through the tension. The sound of his voice coils around me like a vise, demanding respect and obedience, but I don’t turn his way.
“With all due respect, Uncle,” Lion grinds out, “but I’m not fucking leaving.” He breaks my stare and looks at the man who addressed him, face softening slightly and he dips his chin.
The utmost respect shown in such a simple gesture. Lion steps back and leans against the door, blocking our exit while he trains his predatory gaze back on me. His sharp features hardening when his attention moves away from his uncle.
“Liam, I am so glad you joined us this evening,” The Omen says with little emotion behind his words. When I finally turn to him, I’m surprised when I’m met with softness on his face and something haunting lurking deep.
“I didn’t know we were on a first name basis,Nathaniel,” I seethe.
He chuckles and leans back on his desk, crossing his ankles as he looks over me. The haunting look growing the observes.
“Yes, well,” The Omen continues, “I suppose there is much you do not know. I imagine you have a lot of questions for me.” He pushes off his large desk and rounds it, pulling a few glasses from a shelf and pouring what looks like whiskey into them.
He walks over to the Castellos handing them each a glass and ending in front of me offering one of my own. I eye it warily and silently decline the offer not trusting any sort of consumption in this home.
The Omen smiles, a feature so similar to his daughter that it unnerves me.
“You will find I prefer killing in cold blood rather than the silent quickness of poison,” he says while walking back over to his desk and placing the rejected drink down. When he faces me again, he tilts his head—another similarity to his daughter. The predator sitting so close to the surface ready to strike.
I smile with venom. “I’ve seen your work,” I mirror his head tilt, “call me the product of your fucking consequences.”
His faces hardens knowing I’m talking about him murdering my parents. Call me a masochist, but I’ve studied the reports and looked over the crime scene photos more times than I can count.
“Malia brought me this today.” He reaches behind him for something on his desk and then hands me a photograph. I snatch it out of his hands and feel my heart fall onto the floor.
The Omen stands with my parents with me and the Olin siblings standing in front. Donovan has his hands wrapped around his father’s leg while I press my lips against a young Malia’s head.
My eyes snap up, I recognize the outfits from my parents’ wedding. A similar photo with just the three of us is in the room I have everything hidden and out of sight.