Page 21 of Not Taken

All I could do was stand there, frozen as the man I loved spat pure hatred at him.

Though it explained why he loathed us and why he’d hated me from the start.

Every disgusting word that dropped from Eli’s mouth wound its way through my body like barbed wire, sinking into my flesh. If I struggled, it bit harder, a sharp band around my chest, stealing my breath as Eli confessed the truth.

Uncle Wyatt’s face was shredded to pieces when they found him. So many bones were broken in his body that they weren't sure what he died of at first. And yet, the coroner wrote it off as a fucking bar fight. Exactly like Bruno’s death going down as a prison suicide.

My legs were basically stuck to the ground as I watched the man I’d been fucking, the man I thought I loved, tell Dad it was all a lie.

By the time Dad called me out, I was wheezing. I only stepped forward because Ben shoved me.

Hands shaking, I could barely contain the fucking rage burning at the scene in front of me.

“What the fuck is going on?” I said quietly, “Eli, what the hell did you do?”

Staying ten feet away from them both, I was still trying to wrap my head around everything I'd just heard while looking at the fucking mess in front of me. Two bloody skulls dripping over the concrete, and Eli, smack bang in the middle, his chest heaving as his rasping filled the background.

I'd heard the whole conversation, exactly like Dad wanted me to, and I could feel him watching me with gleaming eyes. He was testing me again, just like he said. It was another chance to prove I was ready to lead.

I flicked my gaze to Dad, and then back to the fucker that dared called himself my bodyguard. He wasn’t my lover, or my fuck buddy, or any words that implied we even gave a shit about each other, no matter how fucking sweetly he sang my name when I was inside him.

Meeeting Eli's gaze, I almost flinched at the pure fucking fury that slammed into me. It wasn't just anger, or hate. If Eli wasn't tied up, I'd already be dead.

I studied him, as if just looking at him would help me understand what the fuck was happening. And he had the fucking nerve to twitch his lips at me like he was smiling even though he stank of blood.

“He's been spying on us this whole time,” Dad said. “Reporting back to his little friends at the FBI about all about our shipments and product, and even our dealers on the ground.”

My mind blanked as the words sunk in and I tried to wrap my head around it.

Even though Dad had been laying into him about gathering intel, I wanted to hear Eli's side first.

But still, there was no way he could be FBI. We’d been fucking for so long, and I knew Eli had been torturing people for information. It was why Dad sent him and two of his best guys to Carlos in the first place, because there was someone refusing to talk. No FBI agent would ever do shit like that.

I was telling my heart to calm the fuck down, but it just kept going, pounding away in my ears like a freight train.

Who was Eli’s wife? Wyatt had killed people all the time, and most of them he didn't report to Dad about. Was there a chance Dad remembered?

How the fuck was Eli a rat when he let me double down on him so much my cock was permanently etched in his ass? After three weeks of fucking I was sliding into him like we were perfect puzzle pieces, and it was all fake?

“You mean he's been using us?” I said, staring at Eli, who stared right back.

Me. He's been using me.

“Every step of the way,” my dad practically growled. “It was all a set-up to get himself here.” He moved towards Eli, gun in hand.

“You think killing our family is going to stop us?” Dad snarled as he slapped Eli across the face with the back of his hand. His head snapped to the right, and he didn’t make a sound. “We have connections all over the East fucking coast. It doesn’t matter how many of us you kill, we’ll never stop coming after fuckers like you.” He crashed his fist into Eli’s cheek again, blood spraying from his mouth, and I was sure his jaw must be fucked.

The Eli I knew, the one who would fight me in the ring until we were both bleeding and breathless, who would swear and spit on me as I fucked him, who craved my cock; he was gone.

“Caleb, come here,” Dad said icily. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear his smile. He had some kind of fucked up plan.

Eli lifted his head, flinching, running his tongue over his cracked-as-fuck teeth. He looked like fucking mince. His face was so ruined I could only catch traces of him through all the scratches and blood running.

A sudden change snapped in Eli as I stepped in next to Dad, a weird switch I almost didn't catch. He'd suddenly gone from looking like a murderer to showing us something I'd never seen on his face before: fear.

“Oh, well, is that what it is, then?” Dad sneered as he picked it up too. “You don't want Caleb knowing about your little adventures?”

Eli choked, a long tendril of dark blood dripping from his lips to splash on his shoes. It wasn’t fucking time to think about how hot it was, how I could lick it up and force it back down his throat as I thrust my cock into him and stroked his fucked up skin.

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