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Taking a step closer, I held his eyes with mine. “Just so we're clear, I didn't fuck up your life on purpose. He was your son, but he was my brother too, or did you forget that?”

“You say it like that makes a difference. Where were you when he needed you? Where were you when he was out there and they took him?”

“I thought I was doing what I had to. But for you to think I knew that would happen, that I willingly let them kill him. . . That's fucking bullshit. When are you going to realize that?”

Scowling, he tilted his head. “When you're out of our lives for good.”

“I'm not doing this right now.” Grinding my teeth together, I chewed up my words and spit them in his face. “I know what I did. How many times do I have to apologize for it? I'm trying to make it right, I'm trying to end it all.”

“Porter, I don't think you realize that this is bigger than you. You said it yourself, they won't stop till you're dead. Imagine the life you'll give that girl; constantly paranoid someone is out there waiting, no freedom to come and go as you please. You're dragging her into hell.”

“That's right.” Chuckling, I stroked my jaw and stepped back. “And that's why I need to get to them before they get to her.”

“You just can't see it, can you? You think you're fucking unstoppable.” His voice was dark and harsh as his eyes turned to pinpricks. “Didn't you learn anything from your brother's death?”

Slicing a hand through the air, I threw my finger in his face. “I tried to get out, but they wouldn't let me go. They always told me if I wanted out all I had to do was say it.” Turning towards the door, I started to walk away. “Maybe it's time for you stop criticizing me for my mistake and treat me like a real son. Stop hating me for what they did, I never meant for it to happen. I didn't know.”

“Mistake? You call that a mistake? We had to uproot our lives because of you, we had to start over. Zander was innocent, he was still a fucking kid, Porter. You failed him, you failed all of us.”

Holding the handle in my hand, I kept my head facing forward, refusing to look at him. “Yeah, that's exactly what I set out to do. . .” Pausing, I tugged the door open. “I'm a fucking horrible person, aren't I?”

Slamming the door, I stormed down the hall and headed downstairs. Being judged, being told over and over again how you're a disappointment to the family, how you're the cause of all the problems they faced—it fucking hurt.

I already felt like shit, I was already well aware of how my actions affected the people around me. I didn't need my father constantly throwing it in my face.

Doesn't he see I'm trying to make it right?

Can't he see that I'm doing what needs to be done?

Not once did I think getting involved with Disesto would come back to haunt me like this. I was a lost kid, a boy who needed guidance and wanted to be seen as something other than the problem stepchild. Disesto gave me a chance, he taught and trained me, he made me his angel of death.

He was more of a father to me than Franco had ever been. I was pushed aside when Zander came along, treated like I was the black sheep, like I held no value.

When I met Marcos Disesto and found my calling, nothing was more important to me than riding the ranks and becoming a made man. That had been my goal. To become the best, to be the danger and the fear that kept all our enemies up at night.

And now they're my enemies.

My nightmares, my sleepless nights, my life of solitary confinement, they did that to me. And all of it was because I couldn't pull the trigger one fucking time.

“Are you hungry?” my mom asked, sneaking up behind me and placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Not really.” Closing the fridge, I stepped back and leaned against the kitchen island. “I don't even know why I'm looking in there anyway.”

“What's wrong?” Running her hand across my forehead, she smiled. “Come on, spill it, I can see the wheels turning. Talk to me, don't shut me out.”

Gripping the granite in my hands, I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm trying, Mom, I'm trying to fix this shit.”

“I know you are, Honey, I know you want to fix it.” Turning away from me, she opened the fridge and took out some items to make a sandwich. “You thought you were hiding it, but I've known. I could always tell, even after you took off.”

“Then why did you let me go?”

Laying her hands flat on the counter, her shoulders rolled forward. “This isn't my fight, Porter. I want you to be here, I don't want to lose you, but I can't fight this for you either.” Lifting her eyes to mine, she smiled and asked, “Is there anything I could say that would change your mind?”

Thinning my lips, I shook my head. “No, not a thing.”

Her eyes softened, tender and understanding. “Here,” she said, handing me a plate with a turkey sandwich on it. “Take that up to Emery for me, I've got a few errands to run with your father. And don't leave her alone, understand? The last thing I want is for her to try and get up, fall, and hurt herself even more.”

Tipping my head to show her I understood, I took the plate and started to head upstairs.