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Jesus, he’s built like a tank with biceps bigger than my legs. He’s taller than Adrian with blonde hair and light skin. Every inch of him is covered in tattoos. He’s physically intimidating in a way that Adrian isn’t. Sure, Adrian is scary as hell, but until he turns his gaze on you, there is no way to know that there is a deadly snake beneath the suit.
The man who’s got a death grip on the steering wheel looks like the Hulk’s brother.
Or the Juggernaut.
Block by block, Adrian’s North Vegas territory begins to fade away into the Centennial neighborhood my family has controlled since before the expansion. It’s a small suburb that bumps right up to the Strip, which is divided ownership, meaning that no one family owns the entire region. It certainly isn’t neutral territory, but everyone has an understanding that legal businesses are treated differently.
Not that people don’t get murdered for legitimate business. Peter had killed several men over the last year when he was trying to expand one of his casinos. After the third death, the permits office practically paidhimfor the right to expand.
“We’re here,” the driver announces as he pulls through the open iron gate. Tears push at the back of my eyes as the car slowly makes its way down the driveway. It’s quiet. The grounds of the house have never been this quiet. There is always someone tending to the flowers or patrolling the grounds. This time of year, the windows would be open, curtains billowing in the breeze as the maid’s spring cleaned and my mother redecorated.
The car comes to a halt and the driver shuts off the engine. Adrian hauls me from the car, but the minute my feet hit the gravel driveway, he lets go.
I look around, despair filling my chest at seeing my family home empty and dying. The grass is already dulling, with patches of brown milling around the yard. The flowers that I had helped Lonnie, our gardener, plant, are wilting.
“This way,” Adrian’s voice is detached, cold. That’s fine with me. It’s better than cruel and sneering. I want to say something snarky about him leading me aroundmyhouse, but he is the one who knows where the bodies are buried. Literally, in this case.
He leads me down a cobblestone path that runs along one side of the house. My jaw clenches tighter and tighter the further we travel. It doesn’t take long to get to his intended destination. My family’s mausoleum. Did he really bury them there, or is he having a laugh at my expense? Is he going to say ‘gotcha’ and then show me the pit where he heaped them all together?
“They’re all inside,” he whispers somewhat softly. “Go on.”
The heavy wooden door stands ominously before me like a giant guarding the gates to hell. If I don’t go in, then it isn’t real. Right?
“You’re not afraid I’m going to run?” It’s a stupid thing to say but part of me is hoping it’ll piss him off and he’ll march me away. All this time I’ve been wanting to see them. Say one last goodbye so that I can properly mourn them. But now that I am standing at the doors to the crypt, I want nothing more than for him to take me away and back to the solitude of his castle, locked away like Rapunzel.
“There’s nowhere for you to go, little mouse,” he growls, but there is very little bite to his tone. “Even if you did manage to slip my guard, I will always find you. I’d hunt you to the ends of the earth and when I caught up to you, I will show you pain like no other.”
The shivers that ripple down my spine aren’t from fear.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I take three deep breaths to calm the sea of anxiety welling within me. I place my hand on the door and push.
Here goes nothing.
My free hand waves waspily in the air at the dust assaulting me. Even with the recent activity, the mausoleum is still old as fuck and easily recollects the disturbed dust and debris. A cough yanks itself from my chest but I don’t let it deter me. I step into the darkness, flipping on the light that lies just before the first step.
Even with the light, the graves of my family still dauntingly tower above me. There are generations of Castellanos bodies buried within these walls, some whose legacy of blood far outweighs that of my father’s reign. A small sigh escapes when I see their caskets nestled into the wall, the covering of their tomb laid gently against the wall below them.
Adrian must have had his men leave it off so that I could see for myself. Next to my parents' tomb is my grandparents’. It, too, is open. It is hard to reconcile the love I have for my family against the evil things I know they did over their lifetime. Not just my father or grandfather.
But also my mother. Aunts. Uncles.
All of whom are also dead in the war they waged for money and power.
Prestige.
They had all grown up surrounded by glitter and gold and they did everything they could to remain that way. Now they are nothing more than rotting corpses inside a stone prison. They may have grown up with wealth, but they all rot exactly like everyone else.
Death doesn’t discriminate.
That’s odd.
My gaze wanders to another tomb in the corner, hidden at the bottom.
The breath in my lungs hitches and stutters when I try to take a breath.
Messily etched into the old stone is my name and from the way the tomb is sealed, it’s already occupied.
Thirteen
