Page 13 of Tortured Eyes

“Leave,” he eventually says. “You’re being fucking childish, and I haven't got time for games.”

“No. Make me.” I chuckle. Idiot.

The scowl deepens on his face, enough for me to start laughing louder at it. Poor Carter. All I need now is my father to walk in the room and we’d have a full house of Cane in trouble.

“All this goes if you don’t step down and hand over control, Carter. I will destroy it. Burn it to the fucking ground before I see you sit at this table for one more year. This is mine. My name. Not yours.”

Still, he scowls at me, no anger or explosive reaction. I calm my laugh and sneer at his ability to stay so cool under pressure, my shoulders rolling. So fucking stupid. What dick has all this and turns it into an ineffective tool? “How is your wife? Wracked with grief?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

I chuckle again and stand, bored with all this, with him. I’m done now. There’s nothing else to say if he won’t bite. And I don’t need him to bite anyway. I’ve got all the power here, and he damn well knows it. There’s nowhere he can go, no one he can call favours from. Everything's covered. Cane has kept away from Vico for too long to have any recourse over me. And they've burned bridges that kept them safe and made them stronger.

All for a fucking woman.

The door opens as I’m about to leave, both my father and uncle standing there. I look at each one of them, eyes taking in the family resemblance I see every day in the mirror. There isn’t a damn family here, though. None. There is only the man behind me and these two in my fucking way. Nate moves forward, his face trying to make me feel some compassion towards him. Maybe I do with him—just. He’s never pretended. Never tried to manipulate me into something I’m not. He has guided me in some ways, kept me sharp, focused me through the years. Believed in me even.

My neck twitches, remembering his hand on it after I'd argued with my father, his soothing voice trying to help me see sense. I know he tried to bring us back together,tried to prove to my father that I am capable. He never listened, though—not once.

He’ll listen now.

“Logan,” Nate says. “What are you doing?”

“Growing.”

“Not like this. There’s no need for this.”

Yes, there is. There are so many needs for this.

My gaze flicks to my father, a smile riding my face at the loss he must be concerned about. His blank stare of apathy flows back in my direction as if he knew it would all boil down to this one day. Maybe, if he showed some remorse or offered up some attempt at being a father, then I could see through the venom that constricts my throat every time he speaks. But he won’t. Can’t. Even now, when he knows what’s coming, he stands there riddled with disgust rather than attempting contrition.

“I don’t know where you’ve gone, Son,” he says to me.

Son.

My lip curls, fury burning its way through me again. How fucking dare he call me Son?

“Your son is behind me. It’s exactly where he’s going to remain. Don’t ever call me that again.”

Something flashes in his eyes, a frown quickly covering it. I don’t give a fuck what his feelings are anymore. I’m done with everything here other than ensuring I get control of it. I tip my head to look back at Carter, leaving him with the only other words that need saying.

“Make the paperwork happen. You have two weeks. If not. It starts.”

Done. Fuck him. Fuck them.