Chapter 2 Chapter 2
My breathing was heavy, my hands clamped around the barbell. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the floor, my upper body shining under the light that kept flickering like it couldn’t handle the power I was forcing out of myself tonight. I was on set fifteen and I hated every single rep. I almost dropped the weight when I heard him. “How is it possible that you train all the time and still just look like a nicely defined punching bag?” I really wasn’t in the mood for his shitty little jabs. So I ignored his comment, racked the barbell and went over to the punching bag to continue my workout there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Vito leaning in the doorway, only wearing sneakers and low-slung shorts. We’ve both had the habit of training shirtless since we were kids, his dark hair slicked back perfectly, like always. “Nic.” I ignored him. One punch, then another, followed by a kick. The bag groaned with every hit. “Nic!” He came closer. I heard his footsteps, slow, deliberate. “NICOLAI!” I stopped, panting, sweat burning in my eyes, but the pain in my chest burned harder. I turned toward him slowly. His gaze was ice cold. “Fuck off, Vito.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ouch. That’s not how you talk to your favorite cousin.” “You might have been my favorite cousin ten years ago. Before you turned into a cheap copy of my father.” “Cheap? Come on. At least I stayed consistent. You, on the other hand… you’re a fucking joke, Nicolai.” I stayed where I was and the bag swung behind me while my pulse hammered. “What do you want to hear? That I regret not being Father’s right hand anymore? That I miss running through the alleys at night with you, hunting people down, breaking them?” I stepped closer. “I don’t miss any of that. Selena showed me I’m better than that.” Vito laughed quietly. “Better? You were a fucking nightmare. The twelve-year-old who smashed the gardener’s kneecap with a baseball bat because he called you ‘kid’. The fourteen-year-old who pressed a razor blade into some boy’s shoulder at boarding school and then waited to see if he’d tell anyone. And? He didn’t. Because you made it clear you’d slit his throat next time.” I clenched my fists. “You were just like me, Nico. No, you were worse. Cold and smart. And you know what? You enjoyed it.” “Shut the fuck up!” I roared, but Vito only stepped closer. “Think about the bartender from the Southside when you were sixteen. You beat him into a wheelchair with a big fucking grin on your face that even scared me. All because of some wrong information. And you laughed because he screamed like an animal.” Every muscle in my body tightened at his words. I wanted to smash my fist into his stupid face, but I didn’t. “Or that street kid in Naples. You slammed a brick into his skull because he supposedly tried to steal your watch. The boy was thirteen, Nico. Thirteen. You smashed half his face and walked away whistling.” “Shut your mouth.” “Or what about the dealer in Catania? The one who worked for us. Remember how you put a bullet in his knee because he delivered two days late? You took his phone, called his girlfriend and let her listen live to how it sounds when cartilage explodes.” “I said shut the fuck up!” I screamed, my voice raw and burning. “And then your sister showed up with her big eyes and her soft heart and suddenly you pretended you’d never been what you were. Like you never had blood on your hands. You walked out on me. Me, your brother in spirit. For some fairy tale with white flags and a conscience.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Oh, I really do. You play the rebel with feelings now, but you’re nothing but a coward, Nico. A hypocrite. You betrayed all of us just because you were scared she wouldn’t love you anymore once she saw what you really are.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I am neither a coward nor a hypocrite. Selena held out her hand and I took it. She saved me.” “No. You sold yourself. To her shitty ideal that’s eating you alive. And you know what the worst part is? You actually believe you’re better than me.” He almost spat the last word. “But you just forgot who you really are. I didn’t. I survived every second with you. I covered every one of your fucking outbursts. And now you act like I’m the scum?” I sucked in a sharp breath, wanted to say something, anything, but everything burned. My throat, my chest, my fucking fists. And of course Vito kept talking. “You can’t do anything.” His voice was calm. Almost gentle. Like a lullaby made of razor blades. “She’s going to suffer. And you know what the worst part is?” He paused, stepped even closer. “She’ll beg you. For help. She’ll scream your name with tears in her eyes and blood between her thighs, and you won’t do a damn thing. Because you’re too weak.” My jaw tightened, my teeth grinding so hard it cracked. “That wouldn’t have happened before. Back then you’d already have cut out Alessandro’s tongue and shoved it down his throat before he even got near her. But now?” He snorted in disgust. “Now you’re a joke. A shadow. A pathetic little pile of shit that can’t even look itself in the mirror anymore because it knows it’s worth nothing.” I shook my head, but I didn’t answer. Not yet. He wasn’t done. Of course he wasn’t. “Selena won’t just be his wife. She’ll be his toy. His doll. And every single night you’ll know she’s in his bed. That he’s taking her, slow, brutal, over and over, until there’s nothing left of her.” He was whispering now. “And you’ll never see that smile again, Nic. The real one, the one she only had for you. Because you let it die.” My vision blurred. From rage, or pain. Probably both. I breathed hard through my nose. Once. Twice. “You’ve become pathetic, Nicolai. A lapdog with pretty shoulders that might still bark but doesn’t bite anymore. And Selena?” He grinned. “She’s going to find out. And then she’ll hate you too.” I heard myself scream before I even realized I’d moved. “SHUT. YOUR. FUCKING. MOUTH!”