Page 155 of Seeking Vengeance

NeverLayla.

“Fuck you.” I shove Emmanuel into the bed before releasing him. “Youwillstay away from her. Youwillleave her the fuck alone.” I backtrack from the gun and glare at Salvatore, then Remy. “Fuck over whoever else you like. Ruin lives. Start wars. But she stays out of it.”

“I applaud the vicious show,” Remy drawls, “however, I’m deducting points for the fear in your eyes. I can see right through you.”

“I don’t fear you.” I march to him, not stopping until we’re toe-to-toe. “And I don’t fear death. I fucking welcome it, because staying alive means I’ll spend every waking moment wasting my time thinking of ways to torture you if you dare to touch her.”

“Stop.” Adena rushes to Emmanuel’s side, helping to place the oxygen mask to his face as he barks and chokes. “Please just stop. Don’t you see how much we love you? We always have. We just want you home.”

“He never left,” Emmanuel rasps. “He’s always remained close, still wanting to be a part of what he left behind.”

“I haven’t been anywhere near this house since I left years ago. This is—”

“You come back to Denver,” he corrects, his voice weak beneath the mask but the intent strong. “You come back and watch us share our family meal almost every month. You listen to our conversations from afar. Soak in the nostalgia.”

He’s known.

All this time.

“Spying, big brother?” Salvatore lowers the gun to his side. “That’s a little pitiful, don’t you think?”

“It’s fucking pathetic,” Remy seethes. “Why weren’t we told?”

“Because he’s a piece of shit.” I throw my arms wide with a maniacal laugh. “If he’s known, that means he’s let me sabotage your warehouse shipments and rat out your distributions channels. Every problem you’ve had in the last ten years has been my doing, and he knew the whole time.”

“It’s the price I paid to keep you close.”

No. He did it because he’s insane.

Fucking psychotic.

“Enough of this back-and-forth bullshit.” I run a rough hand over my mouth, pulling myself in check. “I want your word you’ll leave her alone.”

“Agree to return home and I’ll give you whatever you want,” he counters.

I smile, all teeth, no charm. “How about this?” I step closer and Salvatore follows, his gun raising again. “I promise the next time I come back, I’ll burn this place to the ground. With or without you in it.”

“Dante,” my mother sobs. “Please.”

I don’t drag my attention from Emmanuel. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe.

I stare into those godforsaken eyes and let him know I’m not bluffing. I make it clear I’d love to watch him burn. And that damn twinkle in his eye tells me he’s only growing more proud.

Jesus. Fuck.

“It’s time to go,” I address my team, still staring at my maker, waiting for him to say something I can’t ignore.

A knock from the adjacent room breeches my ears, the subtle sound rising above the hiss of oxygen and whir of strangled breath.

“Layla.” Bishop’s voice travels from across the hall. “Hurry up.”

I tense at her name. At the vision it provides. At the fucking yearning. But I don’t move. Don’t quit staring even though everything in my soul wants to focus on what’s happening across the hall.

“Just like Grace, she distracts you.” Emmanuel removes the oxygen mask. “How can you not see that?”

“Because a distraction from what you created is exactly what I need.” I backtrack toward the door, passing Goodin, De Marco, and Whitby. “I’ll do anything to protect her. Remember that if you’re stupid enough to test me.”

“I’m definitely going to test you, son. It’s what makes you stronger.”

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