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"The nightmares. The vial, despicable words that cycle through my brain on a constant loop, day and night, night and day. I thought it would stop when he died. I thought it would all die with him." His words begin to pour out, raising in volume as he goes. I let him. Cheer him on inside of my head, willing him to continue.
"My entire life, I was nothing to him. Meaningless. A pawn for him to move where he saw fit. I soldier to fight his battles. Athingfor him to whore out at his leisure. And for what? What did he gain from that? From using me, toying with me,ruining me?Why?" He says the last word,why, like it’s being cleaved from his heart, his very soul. It's thick, filled with desperation. So much desperation that it has me breaking my vow of silence.
"He didn't have a reason, Renz," I say softly, gently. "He didn't have a reason to do any of the things he did because he didn't need one. He did all of those horrid things that haunt you purely because hecould." It's a harsh truth, an ugly truth, but it's what he needs right now. He swallows again, the sound audible in the quiet room.
He nods. Once. Just once. He looks away. "I know. I know that and yet, I find myself sitting here day after day, picking apart everything and trying to find some sort of rational, some sort of motive." He shakes his head and laughs, though there is no humor in the dark sound of it.
"You will not find any," I say, meaning it. "And yet you look for it, relentlessly so, I would imagine, because you are a good, decent human being. Despite what was done to you, despite what you endured and the way you were raised. You are a good person, Renz. One with morals, emotions, dreams. You are nothing like him, no matter how hard he tried to mold you into being his replica." I pause, waiting for him to look at me so that he can see my face when I say this next part. See that I mean it, wholeheartedly. When he finally does, I continue. "He failed, Cugino."
I say the endearment, in our first language, knowing it's more meaningful, reminding him that he is not alone. His eyes widen marginally, the word striking him like an arrow, piercing through the walls he's erected around himself.
Standing, I brace my hands on the edge of the desk and lean in, dropping my own walls and allowing him to see everything. The love I have for him, the respect, and appreciation. The unending trust and faith that he will always have our backs and do everything in his power to protect us. I show him that I will do the same for him, for them. And then, I switch from emotional release to motivational speech, because now that his walls are down, he needs to know that he is not alone and that we will win this fight. We will gain our freedom. And he will lead us to it.
“I will say that again. You. Are. Not. Him. Listen to the words that I am speaking Renz and understand them. You are not your father as I am not mine, nor is Eli his. We are not the replicas of our creators anymore than we are the monsters they attempted to mold us to become. We may be a product of our upbringings but not in the way they intended. Fighters are not born, they are created. Family is not blood, but bond. Respect is not inherent, it is earned. Leadership is not a title, it is a reward. And love? Love is not owed, it is deserved.
All of these things,Cugino, they tried to achieve for themselves by force, by manipulation and no matter how much money or power they may have amassed, they never gained what they so desired. The men that came before us were not respected nor were they revered, fuck, they were hardly tolerated. Not only did they go about everything wrong, but they never had the correct tools, to begin with.”
Taking a long, heaving breath, I pause, letting my words sink in before continuing. “You do, Renz. You have the tools, the power, the influence, and yes you also have the money and the title that comes with it. However, you have so much more. You have a team, friendships, allies, and supporters. You have a family. You are respected and loved. But the biggest thing you have that they did not, is the one thing that will truly set you apart and ensure that you are never what and who you fear.”
His eyes, which have now transformed back to their powerful, golden hue, lock onto mine, his gaze unflinching, as he waits for my final set of words as though they will make or break him.
“You have them.” He stares, angling his head, confusion apparent. “You have those who sought out to destroy you as an example of whatnotto be.”
Dropping back into my chair, long-winded speech finally over, I wait. Wait for him to grasp all that I said, to absorb it. I wait to see what he will do with it, and which direction this will go. I meant every single word and saying them was as much for him as it was for me. My only sadness is that Eli was not here to hear them because they were absolutely for him as well.
After what feels like forever, my cousin cracks a grin. It's slow to spread, but when it does, a loud bark of laughter follows it. My brows hitch. "Are you having an episode?" I drawl. "Do you need a hug, or will scotch suffice?"
He laughs louder and for a second, it borders on manic. I'm beginning to worry when he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces and palms his beard. "Jesus," he murmurs, laughter dissolving completely as he stands and makes his way to the bar. "I need to see the fucking barber."
"No shit," I deadpan. "You look like a lumberjack and no, not that attractive one on TikTok. More like someone from one of those Netflix specials about washed-up mountain men."
He shoots me a glare and scoffs. "Yeah, right." He fills his glass and tops mine off before dropping back down in his chair. "I'm way hotter than that shirtless dude with the ax." He caresses his beard lovingly, "I think I'll keep it."
"Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not. Go to the barber, immediately. In fact, go today. Gonow.I'm tired of looking at that thing," I groan, feigning irritation, but internally, I'm just fucking happy to see him smile again.
He chuckles and spins his glass, rolling it back and forth between his hands. "Soon,Cugino. But first, we have business to tend to." I nod, all traces of humor gone, and gesture for him to continue. "Javier sent me a message before you walked in here. His team examined the bodies thoroughly after they were removed last night."
"And?" I ask, leaning forward, anticipation filling me at the thought of having information regarding the men who attacked us. However, I know before he's even opened his mouth that Javier's team found nothing. He shakes his head, grinding his teeth.
"Nothing. It's as we suspected. Their bodies, clothing, and vehicles gave nothing away. Their fingerprints were burned off and though they collected DNA samples, Javier believes that there will be no records of who the men are, and I am inclined to agree."
"And the drug?"
"Samples were collected and have been sent for testing, but again, Javier believes it was likely cyanide. We'll have the results within a day."
I lean back, considering his words. Javier and his team have done work for us for years, even before Renz's 'promotion.' Though he refused to work for Francesco, Javier has helped us out with many body disposals after we'd been ordered to eliminate people for Renz's father. He does an excellent job. It's the reason he is the number one sought-after Cleaner in New York. He also works with a mercenary group that has the capability to handle forensics, calledAchilles.
Word on the street is that Achilles has some of the best hackers in the world working with them. They can find anyone, make people cease to exist in more ways than one, change and track digital records, and so much more. We've never met them, nor spoken to them, and I'm completely fine with that. They are nothing more than a ghost story, and the stories that I have heard are enough to have me keeping my distance and living in blissful ignorance.
It is that fact that keeps me from questioning Javier and the results he's found. If he says it's a dead end, then it's a dead end. Still, that does not quell the irritation that fills me.
"Have you spoken to Matteo?" I ask. As much as we despise the man, he is the closest blood relative Renz has, who holds similar power, though technically, he is beneath Renz in the familial hierarchy.
Matteo is Francesco's brother; however, he was excommunicated from the direct familial line in his twenties due to some sort of slight against him. The actual story is buried beneath rumors. It changes frequently depending on who is telling the story and Matteo himself refuses to talk about it. Regardless, his position as Mafioso Boss in Las Vegas is more of an insult than anything to brag about.
Does not stop Matteo from flaunting his position of power, but as far as power and blood are concerned, Renz is at the top. Matteo is a vile man who does everything in excess. Liquor, women, gambling, eating, fucking, creating problems. It is that last one though, that has us generally keeping him out of our affairs, but, at the end of the day, he knows many people and has his hand in many pots. He may know something that we do not and if reaching out offers us a reprieve, then it is something I believe we are willing to risk.
Renz tips his glass back, finishing his drink in one swallow. He swishes the liquid around his mouth, savoring it. I imagine he's letting the burn wash away the taste in his mouth that thoughts of Matteo inspire.
