Page 41 of To Hell

Dante will come around. He needs time to process what he just heard.

He stomped out of my office, and I went after him but retreated when I saw he hadn’t left my apartment. Instead, he went to his bedroom just down the hall—the one for emergencies like this one.

He wasn’t mad at me. He was just confused, and all I was left with was the talons of guilt sinking into my heart. We both have had it worse and hopefully, I will make it better for every one of us in the end.

Our father deserves to die. And soon enough, I will pump a bullet into his skull. Not just one. Many. One for every misery we have ever endured. When I’m done, he will be made entirely of bullets.

I stop pacing and stomp out of my office barefoot, needing a walk around the estate, especially on the pathway in the backyard. The sharp pinch of the twigs under my feet grounds me, and it will work magic on my agitation.

It will help me think of what to fucking do next.

“Come in,” Carmine enters his brother Flavio’s card room using his thumb on the biometric authentication door.

Flavio is the Boss of the Russo clan and one of the most feared men alive.

I do not fear him. I do not fear anyone. I do not I feel alive.

Life must be working fucking double shifts to make sure I go back to being with the dead where I originally belong.

I step into the high-ceilinged room. It’s like an alcove. A dark one. Not even the grandiose chandelier can do much to bring light to the thick darkness in the space. The walls are dark grey, the sofas are black, and so are the curtains, while the armchairs around a mahogany table are red.

As every corner and hallway in this estate, a fleet of loyal soldiers in black uniforms are lining around the room with their weapons bared.

I’m not bothered by any of that in the slightest.

I can say I have been through hell and back.

Several times since she went missing.

I’m now counting my life from when I lost her and it’s been four years of hell. And as if life needed to show me how worse it can get, I had to endure a fire burn just to change my fucking identity and keep my mother and brother safe.

I might have physically healed from the burn, but I can never heal from the fire still burning in my heart, scalding everything in its path.

I hate life.

I hate my fucking life.

“Ettore,” Flavio thunders with his thick voice and puffs smoke out of his mouth in perfect rings, then twists the cigar between his fingers, waiting for Carmine to lead me to him.

I hate that name.

Carmine marches in front of me to Flavio and I fall in step behind him.

They have a striking resemblance but Flavio has an air of darkness surrounding him.

“I will cut to the chase,” Flavio throws a leg over the other. “You have been loyal to the Russo clan and I reward loyalty, Ettore.”

I’m not sure if he is expecting me to say anything, but I’ve got nothing left in me to say. Not to him or anyone at this point in my life.

Flavio narrows his brows at me, “Come, have this.” He picks up the glass of whatever is on the table beside his seat and stretches it out to me.

Out of courtesy and maybe only because Carmine nudges me with his elbow, I close the distance and accept the drink.

I down it at a gulp, regretting it instantly but concealing my regret. The drink is stronger than any liquor I know and it glides down my chest burn its way into my gut.

“You like Grappa? Strong stuff,” Flavio draws his cigar, holds my gaze for a while, then puffs. He exhales as if bored by his game of intimidation. It’s no fun playing chase when the prey isn’t running. “You will start as a lieutenant and in two years, you will be captain, while Cesare will start as a soldier and be lieutenant in three.”

Again, I’m not sure what to say so I nod, accepting my new life.

---