Page 50 of The Wicked

I observed him a bit, before looking away out the netted windows, seeing the light droplets of rain showering down, headlights shining and dimming.

“You don’t even know me,” I said, but it was so low I barely heard myself. “You did this to me… I’m fucked up because of you and you still don’t know what I want. That’s not fair.”

Silence stretched, and I swallowed.

Since I took over the syndicate, I’d worked my head off to bring our name to insanely incredible heights. We were legal; we were in the political spotlight. We were gigantic, made for life. The family’s inner business ran smoothly. No complications, no hiccups.

“I don’t just want to kill you, Father. I want to make yousuffer.I want to drive youmad,and I want to see you weep when you watch it all burn. You’re so lucky because I’ll be standing by your side, holding your hand. At least you’ll have me as company. The sinner you created. The best fucking poetic justice. Mother would be proud of me.”

He whimpered.

I looked back at him. “Would you be proud of me?”

He kept quiet.

“Speak, or the next time you’ll see me will be weeks from this one.”

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.”

Silence stretched, and his eyes filled with pity and something else I refused to cling to. “I am proud of you,” he said.

I breathed, holding my head high as relief flooded through me. “Thank you, Papà.”

I looked out the window again. “This gang Elia brought about will allow me to cover more ground. I want to start with Pablo. I will discover what he knows about Arturo’s painting, and then destroy our alliance and create a war.”

My father shook his head. “You can’t ruin decades of alignment with the Pablos, Elio. Y-you can’t do this to the family.”

“I can. I want to do it. I crave destruction. I crave to see the look on your face when it happens. The one thing—theonlything you have ever cared about, falling to pieces all around you. Ah… the bliss that would bring.”

“Just kill me,” the man whimpered again, looking on the verge of tears, and I wanted to smile. I so badly wanted my lips to curve up in a smile, but that invisible force kept them firm, denying me that relief.

It reminded me that though I had control over my father, his actions in the past still had complete control over my mind; there was still an inkling of fear when I looked at his face, a small piece of want for his approval in everything I did.

It only fueled my determination to finish what I had started.

And I would… soon.

Angelo approached me at the gazebo by the poolside; his stance held a stiffness that told me I was about to be given bad news. I refilled my whiskey glass, taking my eyes off him as I placed the bottle on the small table that held three lit scented candles, my cigar box, lighter, and a book.

The last thing I needed was any sort of disturbance. I took my “me” time very seriously, and Angelo might just be at the receiving end of however my response would come out.

Depending on whatever it was he wanted to tell me.

“Marino,” he greeted when he reached me. “Looked for you earlier. Where did you go?”

“Monitoring my movements now?” I asked him, taking out a cigar and lighting it.

“You left the compound without security,” he stated in displeasure.

I took a long drag from the cigar, blowing it out before settling my gaze on him. “What business do you have with that? Hm? Can’t I leave my own home without soldiers tailing me like flies to shit?”

“Where did you go?” he asked again, eyeing me suspiciously.

Surprise had me widening my eyes. “Where did I—” I paused, shaking my head. “I went to a motel to see my dead father; what else would you like to know? The food I ate on the way? A greasy, unhealthy burger. Would you like to know if I stopped by the side of the road to piss and refuel my car?”

Angelo sighed, clearly not believing a word I said. Elio Marino would never eat greasy roadside food. He would never be so foolish as to drive alone; he would never stop by a shady gas station to refuel his car; there was no way he could see his father because Ricardo Marino had been dead for years.