Page 20 of The Wicked

“Good to see you too, Elio,” Elia said.

I studied him. I’d kept tabs on him—discreetly—over the years. And I’d refrained from reaching out and compromising inmy goals. Still, I felt a hollow, sinking feeling in my chest sitting across from him now.

I shot to my feet, stepping away from the table and turned my back to him. A tense silence lingered as I massaged the side of my head. “How long have you been in Italy?” I finally asked him.

“Does it matter? I’m here now.” His voice was unconcerned. I heard his chair shift.

I turned to find him standing there, no expression on his face and both hands shoved into his pockets.

“Answer the question, Elia.”

“I go by Devil now,” he snapped, and I felt that coil in my stomach again.

“Howlonghave you been in Italy?”

He squared his jaw. “Twelve years.”

“Twelve—” I deflated, looking at him with disbelief. “Twelveyears, Elia? How do I not know this?”

He shrugged. “According to your intel, I’m probably on my way home from work in Los Angeles. You’re not the only smart person in the room, Elio.”

“You think this is smart?”

He gave another nonchalant shrug; anger blinded me, and I was walking towards him. He stood taller, fear in his eyes as he inched backward. It was a small flinch, but I felt the effect of it roll down my chest. “You think I will hurt you?”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know you.”

“Elia—”

“It’s Devil,” he gritted.

“You are not supposed to be here. Los Angeles wasperfectfor you. You could have it all, a normal life, a clean record—”

“I don’t have any records; I’m practically a nobody. You made sure of that.”

“To protect you, Elia. I did it all to protect you from this. And you—a common thief? Stealing from me? I would give you whatever it was in a heartbeat. Why did you have to pull up with this so-calledgang? To rob me, your family?”

“You are not my family. As far as I’m concerned, that so-calledgangis my family. They would never abandon or erase me to make things more convenient for them.”

“I never abandoned you. I protected you from me, from this, from my father. You’re my only living flesh and blood; I don’t want you to walk the path I have walked, Elia. You deserve all that is good. A clean life. Notthis.” I shook my head in indignation. “I never wanted this for you.”

“You don’t get towantthings for me, Elio. I’m not some dumb kid anymore. The last time I saw you physically, I was ten fucking years old. You were my brother, the only person I knew, the only person I loved, my only family, and all I asked—all I asked was for you not to let me go, and you fucking promised me you wouldn’t send me away. You gave me your word. And then I woke up in Los Angeles—”

“Elia—”

“You don’t get to fucking talk about family when you won’t even tell anyone that I am your blood. When you’re ashamed of me.” He laughed humorlessly. “I used to make excuses for you, you know? I used to think, maybe he did it because he was scared of his father; maybe he did it because my life would have been in danger. But then I heard the news—about the fire. Lorenzo and Mariana.”

Pain held and squeezed at my heart, and I waited for what came next.

“How you fucking burned them alive… and stabbed the mother you claimed to love. Then I realized maybe you are just like him—worsethan him—and then I beat myself up every day for believing what could have been lies because the person I knew would never do anything like that. But then again, he would also never break his promise to me, but he did.”

The silence that stretched between us after he said that was a long, tension-filled one, but after a while, I nodded, forcing on a look of indifference while taking steps away from him to the minibar on the side.

When I turned, I stretched my neck muscles from left to right,proceeding to pour myself a drink, and then leaned an elbow on the counter, drink in hand, as I watched him.

“You’re angry.”

“No shit, fucking Sherlock.”