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“Yeah,” I snap when the call connects, hoping she’ll take a hint.
“How are you?”
“I’m working.”
“You’re always working. I never know when to call.”
I clamp my lips closed before telling her that never would be best.
Madelene, much like Maya, is just a ghost from my past. I don’t want a relationship with her. I sure as fuck don’t need one. As much as Hollis thinks he can keep her safe, he and I both know that it’s impossible.
I also hate the reminder that she’s stronger than I ever could be. Where I faked my own death and disappeared, she stuck around, taking all the abuse the Severino family threw her way. She could’ve taken the easy way out. The drop from her bedroom window alone was high enough to kill herself, but she persevered. Many would call her weak, but I saw the strength in it, and it has only been a reminder of my own weakness.
I once loved her, but feeling any part of that now is more weakness that I can no longer afford. The price I paid the last time was much too high.
She stays on the line, seeming okay with just having this connection without saying anything, but there are a million words in the silence shared between us.
It’s been over eight months since justice was served to the Severino family, eight long months of feeling no different from how I did the five years before that. Their blood pooling on the floor offered no redemption for the pain they caused, and I know it was because of me. I played the biggest role in their evil. Maya was on their radar because of me. She died because I was foolish enough to love her, foolish enough to think that I could lie to Marcello and Alessio and keep her safe.
“You still there?”
I shift in my seat rather than responding, and I don’t know why I offer that to her. Usually, by now, I hang up, knowing the only reason she calls is to verify I’m still alive.
I’ve avoided the office as best I can in an attempt not to run into her. I saw Hollis here in Mexico when we went into Cortez’s compound to get Nash, but I’ve only seen her a couple of times since the bloody trip to Chicago.
I know she sees Ayla and Nash often, but I bite back the urge to ask her if Ayla knows her sister is self-destructing without the help of Cortez and his henchmen. It feels like tattling on the girl. As much as I’ve told myself I’ll never go back to Lindell, I also know that’s probably a lie I’m only telling myself to keep me away a little longer. It’s only been a couple days since I left, and I’m already feeling like an addict that needs to return.
“Elio, I—”
I hit the end button before she can even continue. She fucking knows better than to call me by that name.
It isn’t the first time she’s done it, and I know from experience that she won’t call back again tonight. It’s the only guarantee I have about anything these days. I also know I’ll get a call from Hollis in the next twenty-four hours with a barely veiled threat about making his woman cry.
My phone chimes with a text, and I sigh in irritation, knowing who it’s from. Hollis isn’t wasting any fucking time.
Hollis: She just wanted to tell you that we’re having a baby, you fucking asshole.
I stare down at the message, thinking the announcement should make me feel something. It doesn’t. I think even if it did, I’d work hard to shove that weakness down.
Madelene is my only existing blood family. Our mother died while I was “dead” and our father was murdered after Hollis abducted Mads from the Severino brothers. News of my father’s death didn’t affect me at all. News of my mother dying almost hurt me, but the reminder that she was no longer tangled up in criminal bullshit eased whatever I might have felt about it.
I reread the text, anger starting to bubble up inside of me.
A baby complicates things. It has the power to control other people. It makes not only my sister stupid but also Hollis. They both have more to lose now, and that’s the most dangerous position to be in.
Me: She deserves better.
I power down my phone before he can respond.
Ten minutes later, the man I’ve been hired to kill is walking out of his house, turning and locking the door behind him as if he has all the time in the world.
I don’t question the briefcase in his hand or why he walks down the street rather than getting into his car. There’s a price on his head, and that’s all that matters.
This isn’t a job sanctioned by Angel, but there’s been a lull in work coming out of his office because of his obsession with tracking and trying to annihilate Raul Cortez. My thirst for blood is too strong to just sit around and do nothing.
