Page 38 of The Carver

“Father—”

“No distractions. No compromises. Nothing.” He pulled the gun out of the back of his jeans, cocked it, and then forced it into my hand. “If you want to survive in this business then you need to understand everyone is expendable but you and Godric.”

I’d never held a gun before, so I held it awkwardly, not wanting to come near the trigger. “What the fuck are you saying?”

“Shoot her.”

I took a step back, disturbed by the order he’d just given. “Are you insane?”

“I’ve never been saner,” he said calmly.

“We should let her go.”

“Let her go?” he asked incredulously. “So she can run to Mommy and Daddy and tell them what happened here? Rat us out to the police? The police won’t do shit, but our enemies might hit us once they know our location. Everyone is expendable, Bastien.”

“Then let her keep working.”

“Can’t do that either,” he said. “Because you’re soft—and that’s going to change right now.”

“I’m soft because I don’t want to kill some innocent girl?”

The girl started to cry. Her cries started off small, but as the conversation continued, she began to sob. “Please…”

“Shoot her, Bastien.”

“I said I don’t want this. I want nothing to do with any of this.” I held the gun at my side, and the metal was so cool I could feel it through my gloves. “Give the business to Godric. I want nothing to do with this hell.”

My father gave me the coldest stare. “You think you’re better than me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’ve given you boys everything. The best of everything. And you’re gonna stand there and judge me? Little boy thinks he’s better than his old man?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It fucking sounds like it. My father handed this business to me and my brother, and someday I’ll hand it to my two sons. There is no choice in the matter, Bastien. Godric needs someone to watch his back, and you need someone to watch yours.”

“I said I don’t want it.” I said it calmly this time, but I didn’t feel the least bit calm. “This is not my path.”

Godric shifted his gaze between me and Father.

Father’s rage burned in his eyes like bolts of lightning. “Shoot her.”

“No.”

“Shoot her, or I’ll shoot you in the arm. Don’t you call my bluff, boy. Because I’ll shoot one arm and then the next and then your leg—however many shots it takes for you to be the man you were born to be.”

I didn’t know what to do, facing off with a version of my father I was better off not knowing. “Does Mother know?—”

“She’ll be disappointed that her son is a fucking coward.”

“And you think it’s brave to shoot an unarmed girl?” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to do it.”

My father raised his palm to one of his men.

They handed him his pistol.

He cocked it and then aimed it at my arm. “I don’t want to do this, Bastien. But mark my words—I will.” He held the gun completely steady, aimed at my right arm, finger on the trigger.

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