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His eyes flash to mine before he turns back around, facing D again. He’s silent, his eyes focused on his father, his aim never faltering.
“You didn’t really think you could pull it off, did you?” Vincent asks. “That... nonchalant act?”
He chuckles, his body vibrating, making Gabriel whimper. My chest deflates. The need to go to his rescue so great that I yank on my bindings again.
“The one thing I can always count on from you, son, is your eyes will forever give you away. The same as Anna’s. Different color, yes, but the same nevertheless. You may look like me, son, but you’re more your mother than I’ve ever liked.”
“You killed her,” Drago barks, and I think he’s trying to move the subject away from us. It’s a valiant effort, but it won’t work. His father is too smart for that.
“I did.” He nods. “And I’m going to kill these three here too. Well... you are.”
“Are you forgetting I have a gun aimed at your skull, old man?”
“Son, if you were a real man, you’d have taken me out the day your sister told you I pushed Anna down those stairs.” His head turns toward Caprice and he shakes his head. “It’s okay, Topolina. I wasn’t worried you’d tell anyone else, and since your brother is the coward he’s always been, I wasn’t worried about him either.”
“Maybe you should have been worried.” Drago’s voice is as cold as his father’s, chilling me to the bone. I hate it. It isn’t him. He’s warm, caring, and he loves hard. It’s not a fault or a weakness, it’s his greatest strength.
“Hmph.” His father has the audacity to laugh.
“If you think for a second that I’ll allow you to get off a shot on that gun, you can think again. You won’t hurt them. I won’t let you. You might as well drop it and put my son down. If you don’t, you won’t leave here alive.”
“Drago, Drago, Drago,” Vincent says, drawing out his name. “Such a pity you never lived up to the name you were graced with.”
His salt and pepper head shakes from side to side.
“I don’t have to pull the trigger myself. All I have to do is give a word, a signal, or in the event that you do grow a pair of balls and pull that trigger yourself, or even attempt to save one of these expendable lives...” Vincent steps back, turning to half-face us, and raises his gun, motioning behind us. He smiles wickedly looking right at me. “Those contraptions will go off automatically. You see, Alessandro is stationed at an offsite location.”
He then points to each corner of the space, and it’s now I notice the surveillance cameras.
“He’s ready at any second to set them off. And then bang! They’re all dead.”
A chill runs up my arms and down my spine. I can’t see behind my chair or even behind Caprice or Mona’s, so I have no idea whatcontraptionhe’s speaking of.
Drago’s brows furrow and his eyes scan behind us. It’s when his eyes go wide that reality sets in, and I know this isn’t going to end well; the memory of Houston’s gruesome crime scene flashes through my aching skull.
“You see, son, there is only one of you and three of them.” His lips tip up on one side. “Four if you count this one here.”
He uses the barrel of the gun, running the metal down Gabriel’s exposed skin on his small arm. Chills ripple down my back, and I pull on my restraints again. I have to get them loose. I have to get to him.
“I’ll allow you to choose one. You don’t get to save them all. You,my boy, have to be punished. Consequences for all these years you’ve refused to do as I say. I’m being generous by allowing you one. The blood of the others will be on your hands for eternity.”
Vincent’s height seems to grow inches taller as he squares his shoulders and his body goes still, looking every bit like the devil I’ve been warned about.
“Make your choice, son.”
Choose Gabriel.
Do I want to die? No.
Do I want Caprice or Mona to die? Of course not, but he’s not going to allow us to live anyway. At least this way my baby boy will live. He has to choose his son.
Choose Gabriel, D. Choose your son, dammit!
Drago’s gun falls to his side, his shoulders drop in defeat. His head tips back to his shoulders and he looks to the high ceiling. I watch as his eyelids close and then his knees hit the concrete floor with a thud.
“My son,” he finally whispers after a beat of silence. Caprice starts to cry harder, and looking to my right, I see Mona nod her head and then she closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent says. He raises his hand with the weapon in it, the barrel of the gun touching his ear. “What was that, son? I don’t think any of us heard you very clearly.”
