Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
"The Sound of Silence" by Disturbed.
Memories of me locked in my dungeon, playing this song on repeat, flash through my mind. It starts to pull me back, reeling me in as adrenaline dumps from my system.
“What are you doing?” someone asks. “Are you humming him a fucking lullaby?”
“Shut up, it’s working.”
Another voice joins in, harmonizing with the other. It takes me a minute to register that they’re the same crushing weight pinning me down.
My brothers.
When I open my eyes, Angelo’s face is the first that I see. He’s kneeling beside me, holding my arm down, while Rafe is on the opposite side of me. They stop humming as I glance over my shoulder to find Michele and Cristian on top of me.
“You good?” Angelo asks.
“Yeah.” My voice scrapes out.
They release me slowly, the way you might creep away from a bomb you’re not quite certain you’ve defused.
As I take in the scene before me, I understand why.
Two dead men lay on the ground, while at least fifteen others surround us with their weapons still raised.
I drag myself upright, pain splintering through my ribs and leg.
“You need to muzzle that fucking dog, Vitale.”
I glance at the man in a suit, recognizing him as Cal Van Croft, a wealthy developer with ties to IVI. He’s supposed to be one of our allies, and so are the men around him. They’re all local bankers, attorneys, corporate execs, and one of them is a politician we helped get elected: Richard Holloway.
As I familiarize their faces, I already know where this is going. I connected these dots as potential issues when I was investigating Imperium. I just didn’t anticipate they’d be stupid enough to turn on us.
“Forget muzzling him,” Thomas Rothfield snarls. “He needs to be put down.”
“Talk about my brother like that again, and I’ll put you down,” Angelo warns him.
“In case you didn’t notice, you’re outnumbered here, Vitale.” Thomas gestures at their hired muscle, all of whom look like they’re nearly shitting their pants right about now.
“And that says everything we need to know about you.” Rafe laughs. “Fucking pussies.”
“They never did like to fight their own battles,” Angelo remarks. “But you should know if you fuck with my family, I consider it an act of war.”
“Good. We’re agreed then.” Richard steps forward, jerking his head at me. “He fucked with my family. Now I want retribution.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michele clips out.
Richard holds my gaze. “Does the name Ethan Holloway ring any bells?”
I give him nothing. No response. Not so much as a muscle twitch. I can feel Angelo’s gaze on me, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s connecting the dots himself. But he doesn’t give it away.
“Why don’t we skip the theatrics, and you can tell us why we’re here,” Angelo says.
“My nephew,” Richard spits out. “He’s a student at Laurelhaven University, and he’s been implicated by the evidence leaked to the police. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Do you think I have time to concern myself with what a bunch of frat boys are doing?” Angelo grits out.
“Maybe not.” Richard shrugs. “But I think Romeo does, considering his little girlfriend met up with Nate and his friends the night they went missing.”
I clench my fists as Rafe edges closer, bracing for another episode. He seems to understand that even a reference to Gabi out of this fuckface’s mouth has the potential to set me off.
“I don’t suppose you have any evidence to support that claim,” Angelo replies.
“Nate told his friends he was meeting up with Gabriela that night, and this has the mob written all over it,” Richard growls. “According to Cal, he has first-hand knowledge that Romeo disposes of your liabilities.”
“Ray Dalton.” Cal drops the name like it’s classified information. “I know you remember that meeting we had last year, Angelo. Romeo bled that fucker dry, and you can’t deny it.”
“Ironic you want to talk about liabilities,” Angelo says.
“That’s how you want to play this?” Richard narrows his eyes. “You aren’t the only outfit in town, Vitale.”
“Go on, then.” Angelo laughs. “See how well you fare with the Bratva.”
“I’m not talking about the Bratva.” Richard smirks. “I’m talking about the Greeks.”
A current of tension charges the air as that information settles over us. Richard may as well have come right out and said he has a death wish.
“You want to align with Ares Stavros?” Angelo steps forward, the menace in his tone unmistakable. “Then you’d better plan your own funeral. You forget you hold office because of me. Dirty politicians are a dime a dozen, and I can have another one on my payroll tomorrow. Same goes for all of you.”
Silence stretches, the promise of violence lingering between us. If it were up to me, I’d murder every one of these fuckers right now. But Angelo is far more pragmatic than I am. He might be calling their bluff, but I know him. He wants to avoid a war now that he has a wife and baby at home.