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"So, he tried to touch what wasn't his?" I reiterate what Shepp said out loud through my contained rage.
Shepp shoots me an appreciative look for voicing his words without having to gain Arrow’s attention. Not that he’d be able to. Arrow is too lost in the fog of chaos; he won’t come back until the threat is neutralized and no longer an issue.
"Duh!" Arrow shouts. "Did you think I'd bring someone back here for shits and giggles?”
“Quite frankly, yes,” I quip, putting my hands behind my back, feeling a calmness rush over me. The man before me is about to meet his end. One less scumbag on the streets or in my future wife’s bedroom. “But now I see the full picture. You should have made him suffer more by ripping his dick off and shoving it up his own ass.” I grin when Arrow flashes me a demonic-esque smirk and rips the knife from the man's sputtering chest.
“You hear that? I should have made you suffer more.” The man's eyes widen as he sputters through the pain of his stab wound and missing fingers. “Tell me or you die.” Oh, he's dying anyway. There's no doubt about that. But he's giving the man an opportunity to explain himself.
“She was… was off limits,” he wheezes, spurting blood between his lips like a pathetic man on the verge of losing his dick. Oh, wait, he is. “I wanted a taste. I wanted to touch her. I wanted…”
Arrow stiffens with every word and finally puts an end to the man's ramblings. The knife plunges right through his throat until he gurgles, trying to draw in air. His ruined body slumps in the chair, devoid of life.
Arrow's chest heaves when he steps back, dripping with warm blood. A grin spreads across his face. Any normal person would cower in fear, but he draws me in. There's a reason he's basically my brother. He dropped into our laps when we were six, and my father took him in under strange circumstances.
“Priest,” my father says, settling in his leather seat behind his desk.
His eyes fall on me as I stand beside him, silently watching the nervous priest take a seat across from us with a little boy in tow. I’ve seen him before. He’s the head priest of the church my father likes to frequent to beg God to forgive him for his sins so he can repeat them the next week. Usually, he’s draped in white with a serious expression. But today he’s wearing loose jeans and a nice button down shirt. Pain is etched into his expression when he looks at his son and then back at us.
“Have you finally come to your senses?” my father asks with a grin, steepling his fingers.
For whatever reason, the boy has been on his list of people he wants in his inner circle. Maybe it’s the crazy that lights up the boy’s eyes that has my father interested. He’s all for training soldiers young and forcing their loyalty.
The priest licks his lips, looking at the little blond boy, near my age, wiggling beside him.
“Yes,” he says softly. “I can no longer contain him within the church and keep him hidden from my superiors. I’m at risk of losing my priesthood if he’s discovered. Arrow, calm down,” he speaks the last part with loving patience for the boy named Arrow and his wild ways.
Arrow grins up at him, exposing his top two missing teeth. Defiantly, he wiggles more, sticking his tongue out at his dad until the priest sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“The clergy wouldn’t approve of your bastard love child?” my father quips.
“No,” the priest retorts in a low voice. “I want better for him since his mother ran off when he was born. I can’t keep him hidden if he’s beside me. I need…”
“Me,” my father interrupts. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. You know the score, Priest.”
“I want to see him every Sunday,” he demands softly, running his fingers through Arrow’s wild blond hair. “For an hour at least, after church for a private lunch.”
I blink several times, memorizing the look he gives Arrow. It’s full of love and admiration. Nothing my father has ever given me. Just last night he shoved me in the dark closet again, all in the name of making me a tougher boy. The only emotion I feel toward my father is hate and disgust every time he shuts the door, leaving me there until I’m curled in a ball, listening to the sounds of the men he’s torturing.
“Done,” my father says without objection, which seems odd for him. “The Viotto family will begin attending Mass every Sunday, in exchange for a room in your church, and I’ll raise your boy myself.” He grins at Arrow who stills, narrowing his eyes at my father. “I’ll harness that defiance and guide him in the ways of the family. He’ll be the perfect addition. At no charge.”
The priest sucks in a breath. “No charge? You’re willing to take him with no fee?”
“No fee,” my father says with a shrug, rising to his feet. “You see, Victor. Your son shows great potential. He’s perfect for this life. One I can give him and you cannot. You walk with God. I walk with the devil. Our deal is this. Arrow is mine. Hell, I’ll even give him my last name so he’ll be hidden from your precious clergy. You’ll be free to run your church and live your life, no longer having to worry about him bringing you dead cats and squirrels.” My father grins again when my stomach drops.
He’s a psycho kid.
“I… How did you know?” the priest asks, bewildered by my father’s statement.
“I have my ways. I always know.”
“Okay. He’s yours. I just… every Sunday. I do love my son. I just can’t risk his behavior or existence getting out. Take care of my boy, please,” he whispers, holding back the emotions shimmering in his eyes.
“Always,” my father says with a smirk, holding out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
"I know what I have to do now," Arrow says, inspecting his blood-soaked knife.
‘Bury the body in the woods?’ Shepp signs with an eye roll as I repeat his sarcastic quip out loud.
