Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
I shrug instead of answering. A lot of shit was different before we swore the fucking oath. Back then, Rafe, Luca, and I were family. Nico, too. Now? I don't know what the fuck we are anymore. Hell, I don't know what I am anymore.
Damned, a little voice whispers. You're damned, Gabriel Santoro Valentino.
"Ah," Mattia says, his voice soft. He always was a perceptive bastard. He sees too much. Hears what isn't spoken. Remembers everything. "You mean before the accident."
I flinch as soon as he mentions the accident, trying not to think about it. But it's already too late for that. Now that he's brought it up, memories from that night bubble to the surface of my mind before I can stop them.
"Fuck you, Rafe," I growl, flinging open the front door. "I didn't sign up to be your fucking hitman."
"You took the same vow I did, little brother."
I grit my teeth, clenching my hands. If I had it to do again, I'm not so sure I'd make the same choice. Not knowing what it's turned Rafe into. He was never supposed to be this…this replica of our father. And yet, sometimes, I can't tell the two apart.
"I never agreed to kill your way to the top." I jog down the steps leading from the house where we were raised, the wind cool on my face. "What you do here is your own goddam business, but how I run Valentino International is mine. Don't like it? Hire someone else to run the company."
"Dove cazzo vai?" Rafe demands in an exasperated growl. "You've been drinking, Gabriel."
"Vaffanculo." I swing my leg over the side of my bike, refusing to stick around and listen to his bullshit any longer. I had two shots of whiskey an hour and a half ago. I'm not drunk and don't need him to cart me home like a child. I need to get the fuck out of here, preferably before I let him wear me down.
He's good at that…wearing me down. Convincing me to see things his way. But I'm not killing Santiago Corleone because he undercut us, and we lost the property Rafe wanted. At least one goddamn thing we do with this empire will be legitimate. At least one slice of it won't be splattered with the blood of our enemies.
Rafe's a smooth-talking motherfucker when he wants to be, though. Or shit, maybe I'm just easily convinced. I don't know. All I know for sure is that if I listen long enough, he'll convince me to see things his way. He always does.
"Gabriel. Goddammit. Get off the bike. Let's talk about this."
I kick up the stand on my bike, flip off the kill switch, and then engage the clutch before hitting the ignition button. The bike roars to life, drowning Rafe out. He curses and starts down the stairs after me.
I don't give him time to reach me. I jam my helmet down over my head and take off, leaving him at the bottom of the stairs. He doesn't shout after me. Rafe doesn't yell or shout. He never has.
Sometimes, I wish he would. It'd humanize him a little.
By the time I make it through the guard gate, I'm already doing sixty. I hit the road, headed…anywhere but here. I hate this fucking house. It was a prison when I lived in it. It's just as much of one now. Only Rafe is the one stuck inside now, trapped beneath the weight of the ghosts our father left behind, chained to the mafia.
And Luca and I are tied just as tightly.
I want out.
No, that's not true. I never wanted in.
"Merda," I mutter, trying to focus on the road. I increase my speed, hanging a right to head toward Luca's. Maybe he can talk some sense into Rafe. He's always been good at playing the peacekeeper between us.
He's always been better at keeping one foot planted firmly in Rafe's world and the other planted firmly in the real world. He can do both. I haven't figured that shit out yet.
I hang another right, the needle inching toward eighty.
The light ahead turns from green to yellow. A young woman stops on the corner, waiting to cross. Her blue minidress is skintight, her blonde hair up like she's headed out for the night.
I lean forward, giving the bike more gas. It roars beneath me.
The light changes to red.
I know I should stop…but I make a split-second decision to keep going. I want to tempt fate and see where the wheel lands. Fuck. Maybe I want to end it all.
Right up until I don't.
I fly through the intersection as a Prius turns into my path, and whatever desire I had to tempt fate and flirt with disaster flees. My heart slams against my ribcage in a powerful jolt of awareness.