Page 106 of Damián

And I’m tired of it. I am tired of being used, left behind, having to do everything by myself, tired of feeling so damn lonely all the freaking time.

I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong, or what is so wrong with me that everyone else seems to find someone to love and trust, but I’m always left standing here.

I’m always alone.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s really too much to ask for just one person to choose me? One person to see me as someone worthy of being loved, not just used? One person who can look at me and say, “Relax, I got this. I got you”?

Well, I suppose I was just built to give, but never receive… to watch from the sidelines, but never actually participate.

Ugh… I’m basically an extra in my own life.

How freaking depressing is that?

“How many this time?” Zara asks, breaking through my miserable mental spiral.

She is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rug, writing our last notes in a notebook. I look at her notes to remind me what she just asked, and smile for a second.

I think it’s cute how much she loves writing in Bubbles, which is a cipher we invented together when we were teenagers, so we could pass notes without risking Rafael or my father reading them.

“Four…” I say, rubbing my temples. “No! Five. Male, female, and three kids.”

“Ages of the kids?” she asks, not looking up.

“Ten, eight, and five.”

Zara’s pen pauses for a second. “Are they connected with Elijah?”

“Not by work; this time, Kaleo sent their names to me.” I sit on the velvet couch, letting my head fall back. “Turns out they are friends of his family, and my father wants their family’s land. They didn’t know who they were dealing with, so they refused to sell.”

“Oh… I assume that didn’t go well.”

“Nope… Their grandfather and an uncle have already been killed. This man is the next name on the deed.” I try to get more comfortable on the couch, but the stillness suffocates me, and two seconds later, I’m back on my feet, pacing all around the room.

“Such a stupid reason to wipe out an entire family.”

“My father’s reasons are always stupid.”

“Where are we relocating them?” she asks while opening a map on her computer.

“Find them a small town near Alicante, Spain.”

Zara stops typing and looks up. “You are never that specific. Any reason why you are now?”

“The wife suffers from severe rheumatism. Research shows that Costa Blanca’s climate is one of the best for managing that disease.”

“Aww! You are such a softie, Ollie.” She smiles, and I just shrug. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.” I deflect instantly, looking away. “What’s the next question?”

“Screw the next question… You are all jumpy and huffy. And you look like you’re about to either pass out or cry. What is going on?”

“We are about to lock up and fake-murder an innocent man, his wife, and his three kids. So I’m sorry if I’m a little stressed out!”

“They will only be locked up in a luxury cabin, with food and toys for the kids, I might add, for exactly thirty-eight minutes until the yacht goes past New Shoreham,” Zara says, shaking her arms and pointing at all the paperwork we’ve been doing for the past day. “As we just planned.”

“I’ll still have to throw them overboard at night in the freaking ocean,” I argue. “Zara, one of the kids is five.”

“Ollie, we’ve done this dozens of times, and not counting Castor’s fuck-up, in the first year, there has never been an accident or a single issue. Elijah’s crew thinks you’re a fucking monster for leaving a terrified family drowning in the open sea, and that family gets to survive and flee safely to—” she checks her notes—“Alicante, Spain. There, win-win.”