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He shakes his head in disgust. “It seems you are forever doomed to be a disappointment. First you hack into highly sensitive files and then you refuse to participate in the very business that puts food on the table and a roof over your head.”
Father begins to pace. I remain quiet, knowing that pacing for him is like stretching before you exercise. He’s doing something small in order to prepare for something big. “I remember the day you were born, Nico. You and your brother. I was so proud to be the father to not one, but two sons. Two more Ricci boys.” He chuckles. “I bragged for months about how you would both grow to be strong, loyal sons. You and Nicholi would carry on the Ricci name, would follow in my and my brother’s footsteps.” He stops in front of me and glares. “Imagine my surprise when only one of you turned out like me.”
“I’m so—”
“I wasn’t done,” he snarls as he starts to pace again. “Nicholi is a good boy, a loyal son. You, on the other hand, are… not. You are your mother’s child. My sweet,patheticRosetta.”
The story Nicholi and I have always been told is that our mother walked out on my father and us because she couldn’t handle the lifestyle we were being raised in. But I know the truth. I know my father killed her. Our nanny let it slip one time, after a few too many of her nightly ‘sleepy teas’ as she called them.
“Rosetta couldn’t hack it as a Ricci,” Father continues. “And I’m coming to realize, neither can you.” Again, he stops in front of me. “So here’s what’s going to happen. Yanni will be back here shortly with your belongings. He will then drive you to an undisclosed location, where you will be permitted to heal. Once your injuries have healed enough, he’ll take you to the airport, where a representative from the Evergreen Boys Academy in Washington state will be waiting.”
Is this really happening?
I know I should be frightened, but all I feel is hope. Anything is better than being raised by Father.
“The representative will escort you to the academy, where you will reside, under a new identity, until you turn eighteen. You will no longer go by Nico Ricci. As of this moment, Nico Ricci doesn’t exist.”
“What?” I blurt, unable to comprehend that bit of information.
“You are dead to me. As far as the world is concerned, I have a son, Nicholi, and he is myonlyson. I do not know what your new identity is, as I want there to be no mistaking that we have zero connection.”
This has to be a joke. It all seems too good to be true.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Father heaves a sigh. “It didn’t have to be this way, you know? You could have fucked that girl like your brother did. You’re never too young to learn about a woman’s body, and what better way to practice than on a bitch you’ll never see again?”
My stomach rolls at his callous words. Never too young? I’m thirteen! This is why he’s doing me a favor by sending me away. I don’t want to rape a girl. I don’t want to grow up treating others like they’re commodities to be bought, sold, traded, and used. I want something more for my life, something better.
I want to become a man my mother would have been proud of. And that’s certainly not going to happen under the rule of Angelo Ricci or under the thumb of the Ricci Crime Family.
“Do you have anything you want to say?” Father asks.
I think about it for a moment. My instincts tell me to keep my mouth shut, so as not to incur his wrath. But then I remember he said that I’ll be hidden away while my injuries heal. He doesn’t want anyone to know about the abuse I’ve suffered. With that thought in mind, I do something I’ve never done before.
I say exactly what I want.
“Fuck you.”
Father backhands me, getting in one last blow, and I don’t even have it in me to care. Being able to utter those two words was worth that extra bite of pain.
CHAPTER1
Peppermint
PRESENT DAY…
“What’s your name?”
I lift my head at the unfamiliar voice, a jolt of hope flashing through my system because it doesn’t belong to the man who’s been guarding me and the others for the last however many days. I stopped trying to keep track after what was probably only a few hours. Being chained to the floor in a room with no windows and no clocks made it not only extremely difficult but also unbearable to think about.
When I don’t answer him, the young boy backhands me across the face. The pain is excruciating, but I do my best to hide it. If I’ve learned anything since being snatched off the street on my way to school it’s that the people who are holding me somehow get worse when any of us react.
“I asked you a question.”
He might be younger than the others who’ve taken to visiting those of us in this hell hole, but his eyes are just as dark and evil. He seems to be around my age, but it’s hard to tell under the dim light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
