Page 39 of Dark Romeo

I would soon help this monstrous empire grow stronger. I would help feed it with my life and my soul. It didn’t matter how hard I fought against it, I could not escape what I was destined to become.

I was alone again in the limo with my father, barely paying attention to what he was saying. “Things have changed in Verona since you left. The political landscape is not so…friendly. We have a new chief of police elected nine months ago. They call him the incorruptible.” My father let out a snort. “So far he seems good to his word. He’s made us public enemy number one. Vowed to clean up the streets.”

I nodded, my body cold.

“I’ll have a dossier sent to you with everything you need to know about who’s who. Read it, memorize it, learn it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, automatically.

The limo stopped. Moments later someone opened the door for me. The cool night air did little to cut in through the fuzz around my head.

“Go drink,” my father said. “Have fun with your friends. You’ve earned it.”

Go drink, have fun, while a man who you sentenced to death is being dumped somewhere like trash. Go have fun, you’ve earned it. I choked on these thoughts.

I don’t know how I managed to get out of the limo. I stood in a smelly back alleyway, the walls of the buildings around me seeming to cut out all the light of the stars. Someone opened the back door of the bar for me, their body silhouetted in the dim light that misted out of the doorway. The thudding of the music coming from inside sounded like someone’s violent heartbeat. Before I could take a step forward, Abel stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

The sight of him was like a splash of cold water on my face, cutting through my fog. I growled and bared my teeth. “Get out of my way, dog.”

He smirked at me. “Relax, Roman. I just wanted to congratulate you. We’re all surprised at how you…stepped up tonight.”

A feeling of nausea bubbled up again like clotting blood. “Fuck off.”

His grin widened. He shoved something in my hand before I could stop him. “I thought you’d like to keep a souvenir.” He cackled, his laughter echoing off the insides of my skull. He disappeared back into the limo.

I looked down into my hand. He had pushed a single thin gold ring into my palm. The man’s wedding ring, dried blood still clinging to the skinny gold band.

“I have a wife…”

It fell from my fingers into the muck.

I stumbled into the bar through the back entrance, searching, looking for… a drink, I needed a drink. I probably looked like I was already drunk, even though I was sober as fuck, everything blurry, my movements clumsy.

I had to get my shit together. My mother had been a Lettiere before she was married. I was a Lettiere. Lettieres didn’t fall apart.

You’re not a Lettiere. You’re a Tyrell, a voice inside me taunted.

I was in a nondescript bar off the main strip, old wood and creaky leather, dim lighting casting the place in a dull brown light. It was where Mercutio and I used to meet after bad shit happened at home. None of my “family” or other “friends” came here. I was anonymous here.

Mercutio was already waiting for me inside, his eyes on the back entrance, leaning against the old wooden bar, chipped and lacquer peeling from years of spilled drinks. He’d driven all the way to the airport and rang my cell six times before I was capable of texting him back, asking him to meet me here.

He took one look at my face and his fell.

I almost turned around and left, not sure if I could take his judgment, his piteous look. I had nowhere else to go. I pushed my way through to the bar and leaned against it, just trying to breathe.

“You’re not leaving Verona,” he said.

It didn’t sound like a question. I shook my head anyway. No, I will never be able to leave now. I will die here.

“Jesus, what did he do to you?” he asked quietly. I could hear the hesitation in his voice. He didn’t really want to know.

I shook my head again, words failing me. It’s better you don’t know.

He cursed under his breath. I didn’t have to say anything to Mercutio. He just…knew.

I closed my eyes, the gunshot echoing over and over, the backs of my eyes splattering with crimson. It had been the thing I had feared most since I watched my brother turn into a monster by my father’s hand. I could feel the stains on my body, the darkness leaking into my veins and mixing with my blood.

“Here.” Mercutio pushed a drink into my hand, snapping me partly out of my thoughts. I could feel the pity exuding from him. I could hear it in his voice. I hated him for pitying me. But I understood. Even I pitied me.

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