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“Here fuck face.” Mal has snatched his phone off the floor where he dropped it and thrust it in his tear-stained face.
I shake my head in disgust, watching snot run down his nose and drip to his shirt from the sobbing he's been doing. “Wipe your nose, it's disgusting,” I spit out, stepping closer to Anita. I gaze over her frame, wishing she was still wearing her skeleton mask. I didn't think I would ever see her with a mask on again, and I have to say, my little snake looked damn sexy.
Standing next to her, I face the mayor, who takes the phone from Mal slowly, sniffing and wiping his nose and chin with his sleeve, though more tears quickly replace the ones wiped away. I don't feel sorry for him, and I never will. I have more sympathy for his wife, who will soon learn the truth about her husband's scandals. About how he really hurt the city more than helped. He’s been a disgrace, and now her daughter has the blood of a filthy monster. They'll never see their dad as a hero, but the villain that everyone hates. There's no getting around that.
“Call,” I growl, anger riding up my neck. I hate fathers who can't have the decency and morality just to be good for their children.
He flinches and begins to search for his phone. Mal stands beside him, her staring hard at his movements and his cell.
He releases a shuddering breath before putting the phone to his ear. “Please don't make me do this. Please.”
My chest tightens, and I’m ready to shoot him in his chest. Anita takes a step toward him. “Think about all the hundreds of girls that have begged for their freedom after you sent them to the devil's den. The nights they cried themselves asleep, the ones who were drugged, the young girls raped. The innocent, murdered, and sold. Because ofyou.” I can hear Anita's voice become shaky and shallow. Out of instinct, I close the gap and place my hand on the middle of her back. A pained expression masks his ivory face and his head drops. I can tell he’s drowning in shame, as if it's all coming to him. That he truly is a piece of shit. “You will pay for your crimes,” she whispers, her chin lifted.
“No mercy,” Mal says cruelly.
Not even a second passes, and a muffled voice comes through the receiver; Richard perks up, his eyes puffy and red, a shaky smile forming. “Hi little dot, where’s mama?”
His lips quiver and more tears appear. He sniffs while choking on his words. “Yes, papa can't wait to see you, too.”
I look away because there's nothing satisfying about this. I don't need to see the love he has for his daughters. It makes me sick that he couldn't be better for them. The image of my father's form is visible in my head, and it creates even more anger to build like a tower in me.
“Maria,” he begins. He bends his leg, rests his arm on his knee, and cups a hand over his forehead. Mal taps her gun on his shoulder. “Look up. No funny business.”
Richard glares at Mal, and with a heavy breath, he tells her everything he was part of. The part he took in failing to fulfill the role he was given. When you think about it, the money he made to take care of his family is dirty money. Not the kind you find on the ground, but the kind that's been used to sell and traffic people. The dirty paper that men touched and passed along after taking pleasure in the ruin of the victims' lives.
I have sympathy for his wife and daughters, not this pig.
The man may not have been there, but he was an accomplice. The main ingredient to young girls and boys disappearing in Long Island. He condoned immoral behaviors, and he needs to face the consequences.
He hangs up and drops his phone. His body slacks against the desk, and his legs fall, like he's been shot in the heart.
He whispers, eyes diverted to the floor, “Now you've destroyed my family. I have nothing left.”
I stare, unfazed by his pain. “Least you'll live.”
Richard shudders a heavy, his shaky gaze rises to me. “Have you ever done anything to protect your family?”
I retrieve my pistol from the holster on my hip and stare at him with a bored expression. “Yes, but not in the way that you have.”
“When you have children of your own, then you will understand.”
I stroll to him and kneel with my elbows propped on my knees, tilting my head to look the pitiful man in the eyes. “The difference between me and you, Mr. Mayor, is that I do what benefits the world to flow a little easier. Safer. You?” I point my gun lazily at his face. He sucks in a breath and sits up.
My eyes dim; I thought he had nothing left to live for. I jam the muzzle of my gun under his chin. “You dirty the streets with gunk and filth and pretend like you're doing what's right when it only benefits you. You take your pictures and soak in the audience that's provided. Only for you to betray the ones who smile at you with respect and trust. If that is not fucked up, then I don't know what is.”
He trembles so bad that it shakes my gun. When he meets my cold stare again, his red, swollen eyes squint slightly. “You're Ronan Alvarez.”
My brow arches, and my head tilts. “I am.”
“Your mother. I was deeply sorry to hear about her death.”
My jaws clenched. “Do not speak of her.”
“Her death must've been hard for you.”
I freeze. My soul escapes me, and every...every fucking nerve in my body stiffens so tight that it could snap and shatter right here. He spoke of my...mother. Her death was covered up as a burglary, but I know, I know the truth. I was there alone watching her blood drain from her deep lacerations, her legs deformed and broken from falling over the railing.
He sniffs. “My father sent his condolences, and we were all very shocked to learn about what really happened to her. For me, as a young boy, I couldn't imagine losing my mother like that. It's humiliating and selfish to leave behind your child, especially to sui—”