Page 15 of Not Taken

As the door closed behind me, I wanted one last glimpse, but he was already talking to a guard, and I was forgotten.

Eli was perfectly fucking fine chatting with people, being all easy and relaxed and shit. But as soon as we were alone he was back to acting like a fucking robot.

Everything in our world was grey concrete walls and metal doors. Hidden away from the sun, the corridor was cool and at least it was some relief before Dad laid into me.

I sucked in a breath before I knocked on the door. Not that I fucking needed to calm my shit. Dad was a dickhead no matter what mood he was in.

I went in straight away, not caring if it pissed him off. He asked to see me at the end of the day because he knew I’d be fucking cranky and this was the best time for him to get a rise out of me.

Bastard.

He had a L-shaped desk pressed against the corner of the room, a leather sofa on my right and a really fucking annoying low glass coffee table that everyone had to swerve around to get to his desk.

He had his reading glasses on, making him look like Grandpa instead of fifty. He was basically the older version of me, except he slicked back his brown hair to show off his wide ears, his jaw was more pointed and his steel eyes were sharper. Both our noses were fucked up from years of fights; he taught me boxing, and got me involved in the family’s underground fight clubs. Really, I could say I would have never ended up meeting Eli if it wasn’t for that.

I threw myself into the seat in front of his desk, making sure I sat up and didn’t slouch so he didn’t snap at me and spent the whole meeting glaring.

“Listen, son,” he started.

I held back my groan. He always started his lectures like this, treating me like a fucking child.

“You have the loyalty of most of the men, and you do well enough with the tasks I give you. You have a general grasp of the business and are competent when it comes to making deals.” I didn’t know if he realised he wasn’t actually complimenting me. But I was used to it.

I was hoping this was the time he was finally going to tell me he wanted to step back. I was nearly thirty, it felt like I was ready. Though, Grandpa kept running the family business until he was seventy.

“We’ve got a problem,” Dad said. “A serious fucking problem.”

“Is it about Carlos?” I asked. Even though my uncle was a druggy, he was always careful not to overdose. Yet the guys said he was fully drugged up when they found him dead.

“Yes, and no.” Dad pushed his glasses up the bridge of his crooked nose. “I have a new job for you.”

I folded my arms, waiting for him to hurry up and get to the fucking point. He loved a performance. “Okay, what is it?” I eventually said.

“Well, we suspect it’s the same as Wyatt and Bruno. Maybe not the same person, but Carlos was definitely murdered.”

I widened my eyes in shock. I mean, yeah, my uncle couldn't breathe without heroin, but he was so paranoid about over-dosing that it came up in every fucking conversation he had when he visited the compound. He even paid a guy to keep on it for him, get him his drugs, even inject the fucking stuff.

“Carlos's bodyguard was dead too, and I think the chances of him drugging Carlos and slitting his own throat are low, so we're assuming it was a hit.”

“Well, what are we gonna do about it? We need to get some guys out there and hunt this fucker down.”

“Yes, exactly.” He nodded, leaning against the back of his chair as he folded his arms. “Which is why I want you to take over Carlos’s district, get some real experience of managing the business up there. Not just shadowing someone; running it as one of the heads of the family.”

I knew I should be upset that my uncle was dead and he was probably murdered, but I'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.

“You’ve proved enough times you’re dedicated to our family, so I want to give you a special job, one that involves finding and killing the person, or people, who murdered him.”

I nodded along with my pride fucking swelling. This was the kind of job I needed. Not bullshit paperwork or inspecting the trucks. Real fucking work that involved breaking fingers and shattering knee caps to get me some answers. Plus, if I had to go up to the depot in Pheonix, then I could take Eli with me and maybe even fuck in a hotel instead of a closet.

I was taking over the family. I’d trained my whole life to take on this position. I made my first kill at sixteen, and since then, I’ve been willing to do anything to make sure our family name stayed strong. I’d do anything Dad asked me to to prove my loyalty, and I’d keep doing that until I was sitting where he was.

“I have to know you’re willing to be a real Donelli. Being a part of this family means making sacrifices, doing whatever you need to do for the family, not for yourself. Do you know what I mean?”

“Of course I do, it’s all I’ve been doing.” And he'd given me this speech at least three times a year for the past decade. I even quit school at sixteen so I could come and work for the family. I did everything to make sure I could take over from him

Except for fucking Eli. Eli was never part of the plan. Eli was so far away from the fucking plan that I should take the Pheonix job as a sign to get rid of him. Just leave him at the compound while I went off and finally got him out of my system. No hotels or days out together or whatever romantic shit people did when they were in love. I could go cold turkey and stop having to deal with these feelings.

I jolted, realising Dad was still talking. That he’d been talking for five minutes and I’d totally zoned out, day-dreaming about Eli.

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