Page 72 of Wild Angel

“I knew it. Fuck you, Domingo.” She shoves past me, stalks into the bedroom. Grabs clothes, starts dressing.

I’m left snarling at my reflection, but I don’t even see myself. I just see a dark smudge—a shadow of the man I was.

But that’s not true, is it?

I’ve neverbeena man.

I was, and always will be, a fuckingmonster.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Savage

My chest feels too tight. My mouth dry. I’m not even aware that I’m tapping my foot until Vito lays a hand on my shoulder and silently hands me a lit cigarette.

He knows what’s about to happen.

He doesn’t like it one fucking bit. He threatened never to speak to me again, but I told him I was doing it anyway.

So he called me a cunt and went to organize things.

That was over two hours ago. Everything’s ready…but not Nyx.

We’re still waiting for her.

She said she was going for a walk. Actually, she didn’t say anything. She just fucked off down the hall and gave me the finger when I called her name. I sent my men to watch her, to make sure she doesn’t leave the grounds.

Sam and Matias said they’d be here in five minutes. I’m not rushing them—she’s going to be spitting mad when she realizes what’s happening, and I’d gladly postpone the hellfire she’s about to rain down on me.

I stand, head to a nearby side table, crush out the cigarette. It left a horrible taste in my mouth, but it did soothe my nerves a little. I look up and catch Vito’s eye, but he just purses his lips and shakes his head at me.

“Caesar?”

My heart stops beating for a second and then starts pounding twice as fast. “Father?” I turn, already heading for the bed.

I wanted to do this in Bryan’s presence, even though I had no idea if he was lucid enough to know what the fuck was happening.

The fact that his eyes are open, that he’s staring at me, talking…it’s a fucking sign.

But whether it’s good or bad, I don’t have a fucking clue.

“I’m here.” I take his hand and flinch at how cold it is.

His breath rattles out between dark lips.

I’ve tried several times a day to contact Doc. I even sent Vito looking for him. He’s gone AWOL, just like old Donny Brennan. Fuck, for all I know, they eloped together.

The nurse tells me my father is recovering, albeit a lot slower than she’d hoped. But they’re keeping him pumped full of morphine and vitamins and I don’t know what other shit.

She tells me the shooting took a toll. That someone at his age needs more time to recover than I would have.

The nurse obviously doesn’t know my father. I mean, she’s been part of the cartel for years—that’s the only way I’d have allowed her close to my father—but how could she think for a second that a single bullet could kick my father’s ass like this? I’ve seen him drag himself out of a gunfight with a punctured lung, two fractured ribs, and a broken leg.

But I can barely believe that man is the same one lying in front of me right now. He’s as pale as the sheets, as gaunt as a fucking skull.

“Are you hungry?” I glance around and grab a bottle of the baby food stacked on his nightstand.

Fuckingbabyfood. That’s all he’ll eat, apparently. Maybe all hecaneat. I crack open a new bottle and shove a spoon in it.

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