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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I killed my father… and liked it.

  Nixon

  I pulled up to the house, hands shaking, and looked at my screen on the phone. The party had just started.

  The rest of the world was having fun while I had to go sit through a meeting with Satan himself.

  Since I was going to be meeting my father, I'd called a meeting with the rest of the men. May as well update them on what was going on. Uncle Tony had thought it would be a good idea, and I needed an update on what they had on De Lange — another reason I was by myself. The last thing I needed was for Chase, Tex, or — God forbid — Phoenix to be there. The less they knew, the safer they were. Which basically meant if I died, they were screwed, but that's why we paid the men well. I wasn't really killable. Not now.

  I opened the door to my Range Rover and shrugged out of my leather jacket. I always liked to approach meetings like I was going to war. Because that's what happened when you had two bosses in the same damn house. A war.

  I was the new boss taking over from my dad, considering he was too sick to do anything but cough and bark orders that made no sense to anyone but his own demented mind. But he still had the ring on his left hand.

  I had nothing.

  I checked both pistols and strapped them to my chest then made my way into the house. The door opened before I reached it.

  Uncle Tony stepped out and lit a cigar. "He's in a mood tonight."

  "He's always in a mood." I scowled.

  "Nixon…" Tony flicked the cigar. "It's time."

  My heart, what was left of it, froze in my chest. "We putting things on ice so soon?"

  "He's demented." Tony scowled. "Talking crazy about wives switching husbands, kids that aren't his… He's even saying he doesn't recognize me as his brother. He's sick."

  "The doctors—"

  "To hell with the doctors. You're boss now. It's your call. I can only advise as to what would be the best option. But the men, they're ready, Nixon, and so are you."

  Nodding, I stepped by him and made my way into the house. We had captains, foot soldiers, made men, and they all looked at me like I was their god, even though I was decades younger. I was the one calling the shots, lining their pockets, ruling their damn worlds.

  "Boss." Vin shook my hand as I walked into the living room where I knew my father would be sitting on the couch.

  The silence was deafening as I made my way toward his limp body. He coughed then started swearing in Sicilian, calling for my mother.

  Tony was right.

  Something needed to be done.

  Hatred bubbled up inside of me when he stopped coughing and smirked in my direction. "You are not my son."

  I rolled my eyes and pulled out my pistol.

  The tension thickened. A storm was coming, brewing, twisting the air around my throat, making it impossible to breathe.

  My father leaned forward, his smile mocking as his lucid blue eyes took me in. "You are nothing."

  I smirked and tilted my head, returning his smile with a sour one of my own. "I am everything."

  "I know why you are here." He looked away as if I didn't have a gun a few inches from his body. As if I didn't have my hand firmly on the trigger. "You will destroy this family. You will destroy everything I've built."

  At that, I laughed.

  Anthony tensed to my right.

  "Old man, everything that's been built in the last four years is all me. What do you think they call me?"

  His eyes narrowed as the room shifted.

  One by one, the men slowly walked to my side, standing next to me, standing beside me, each of them standing at attention as if I was their god.

  "Betrayal!" my dad shouted, falling into another coughing fit. "Anthony! Do something!"

  The timer went off.

  The end was near. For him, not for me. I'd always sworn I would kill him. I'd promised it to myself when I was a little boy, and I'd promised it to myself when I watched my mom die a little bit every day. I would kill him.

  And I was finally getting my chance.

  "Father…" My voice shook. "…may God extend the same mercy to you that you extended to my mother, to me, to the very men who have turned against you."

  "You are nothing!" he shouted louder. "Do you hear me?"

  I squeezed the trigger and whispered, "I'm everything. I'm the boss. Sangue en — no fuori."

  Time slowed as the pressure on my finger increased. One single gunshot rang out as my dad cursed me to hell. Those were his final words to his only son.

  And I didn't feel bad.

  I felt nothing.

  Even when the blood splattered all over my clothes.

  When his limp body collapsed onto the ground, causing a mess to erupt around the living room.

  I felt nothing.

  And I had him to thank for it. He'd made me the way I was — heartless, a coldblooded killer — and in that moment, when I handed Anthony my gun and started wiping my hands on the towel Vin had thrown at me, I realized…

  She didn't belong in this world, didn't belong with me.

  I'd just killed my father.

  In cold blood.

  In order to officially step into the role he'd groomed me for from day one.

  My future was staring back at me through cold, lifeless eyes. I was him, he was me, no matter how much I wanted to fight it.

  I was the boss.

  And I'd just sealed my fate for eternity.

  "Salud!" Anthony shouted, pulling the ring from my father's cold hand and shoving it onto my finger. He kissed the family crest, and my heart hammered as each man did the same.

  So this is what it was like — to be alive, but completely dead inside.