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David’s lip curled, the gun trembling in his hand. “Do you even know what your father did? Last year, I was assigned to the case regarding your families. The great Rosania and the desperate Scaranos.” My jaw clenched at his words, but I refused to let him bait me.
“I was damn good at my job,” David went on, oblivious. “Did you know I had enough evidence to arrest your father?” He laughed. “Oh, yeah. I had a ton of shit on your good old dad. He was a fucking basket case. The shit he did—you don’t even know the half of it. But I had all the evidence. Everything I needed to make the arrest. Except I never got the chance.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” I snarled. “Because I don’t.”
David’s eyes narrowed. “Your father convinced Giovanni Rosania that I had information on him as well. Together, they plotted to deter me, and shit, was it a good fucking plan.” He took another step, just two feet away from me now. “They had their associates break into my own home while I was working late. They put two bullets in my wife’s chest. One in my daughter’s head. And then they fucking slept like nothing happened.”
I didn’t react. Didn’t move. I knew my father was entirely capable of something like that. Still, the fact that he had convinced Giovanni to go along with it surprised me. It wasn’t exactly his style. He would never have gone after children. But my father would. The story fit so perfectly—the perfect origin story for his short stint in my world.
“So your solution was to turn your back on everything you believed in? To join the dark side in the hope of what, exactly? Revenge? Mateo had already killed our parents.” My lip curled into a sneer. “Does it make you feel better?”
David’s eyes narrowed, but I didn’t give him the chance to answer. “I’ll tell you this,” I continued. “It won’t make you feel better. If you continue to let the wound fester and infect your mind, nothing ever will. It will slowly eat away at you, killing you slowly. But I don’t think you care about that. I think you like this fucked up feeling, don’t you?”
His hand shook as he jerked the gun higher, pointing it straight between my eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what it feels like.”
“I know what loss feels like.” My eyes locked with his, daring him to fucking pull the trigger. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
“Except I do. Remember? I told you I was good at my job.” David laughed a bitter sound that echoed in the staircase. “I know the shit you’ve done since you were a kid. I know about the first man you killed. The first time you tortured someone to death. All your dirty little secrets.”
“Well, what’s the point of knowing all that if you’re just going to kill me?” I was stalling, but he didn’t seem to realize it. As much as he tried to act like it, he just didn’t belong in this world. My world.
“Because I wanted the proof that I was taking out the bottom of the fucking barrel, the scum of this city.”
“You mean you wanted an excuse to get your job back,” I guessed.
I knew I hit a sore spot as soon as I saw the fury flashing in his eyes. “You’re a piece of shit.”
“And you’re a desperate wannabe.” I closed the distance between us, letting the mouth of the gun press against my forehead. “You think you can be a part of this world just like that? Just because you want revenge? You don’t have it in you. You don’t have the fucking balls.”
His eyes widened slightly. Still, I kept going, driving the knife in deeper and twisting. “And you want to know why?” My voice dropped to a low hiss. “Because you’re a fucking coward.”
I was moving even before he decided to finally pull the trigger. Shoving his arm to the side, the shot went wide, burying in the side of the stairwell. I twisted his wrist and forced him to drop the gun to the floor. It clattered down the steps, useless. Kneeing him in the stomach, I dropped my elbows, digging into his spine before he tumbled down the stairs.
He came to a rolling stop at the bottom, coughing as he struggled to stand. I slowly made my way down, relishing the power that surged through me. Savoring the sight of my enemy on his knees. Gripping his hair, my knee connected with his nose, his head snapping back. David fell like bricks to the ground, groaning.
“You’re desperate. And desperate men make plenty of mistakes.” I crouched beside him, fisting his hair and yanking his head back. “Your first mistake was talking. Your second was letting me get that close.”
I let him go, disgusted. Kicking his gun towards him, I pulled my own, motioning for him to pick his weapon up from the floor. “Go ahead. Draw your weapon, and lets finally fucking settle this with some damn honor.”
He spits on the floor, blood splattering against the wooden boards. “What honor? Men like you have none. You’re all the fucking same. You tortured Ivan Caputo without regret. Without flinching. You’re sick. Twisted. And every single man like you deserves a slow death.”
“And yet,” I motioned with my gun around the corridor of the cabin, “here you are, working for a man just like me. You don’t realize the fucking hypocrisy, do you? Mateo is cut from the same cloth. In fact, he came from the same fucking world as I did. But I don’t see you shooting at him now, do I?” My gun settled back into place and pointed at his chest. “Pick up the gun, David.”
With shaking hands, he snatched up his weapon, drawing it while still on his knees. I waited for him to stand on trembling legs, slightly impressed with his determination. I could read the decision in his eyes. See the realization sweeping across his face.
A shot rang out. We stood, facing each other. David glanced down at his chest and watched as the red spread across his shirt. I’d hit my mark perfectly, the bullet lodged deep in his chest. He stumbled forward, the gun dropping once more to the ground. His hand pressed against the wound, blood seeping through his fingers.
I felt nothing as he dropped. I only hoped he found the peace he so desperately needed. Turning away, I headed back up the stairs. If there had been any men down here, they would have come out guns blazing already. It would be a waste of time to continue searching now that David was dead. Taking the stairs two at a time, I scanned the first deck, looking for any sign of Killian. Echoes of the shots before ring in my head. I only hoped to God that it wasn’t my brother or my wife.
“Killian!” I hissed, starting up towards the second deck. I could hear nothing now. The yacht was deathly quiet. “Sienna!”
There was no sign of either of them on the second deck. I checked the prow, my gun held out in front of me as I went, cocked and ready. Stepping around to the other side, I paused, catching sight of Gemma’s body, blood pooling across the deck.
Sienna’s work, no doubt. But where the fuck was she?
Fear thrummed in my veins as I continued to search. They weren’t on the top deck, either. My eyes caught on the light in the cockpit, though I was too low to see any movement through the windows. That was the only other place they could have been. Reaching for the railing, I started up the steps, hoping to fucking God that I wouldn’t be too late.
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