Page 61 of Unleashed
“Then don’t promise.” He shrugs. “Just…try not to make me mop blood off the hardwood tonight.”
The bourbon sloshes in the bottle as I slam it down on the table. “Fine. Whatever. Bring in your sacrificial lamb.”
Maximo straightens, eyes glinting with something smug. “Good boy.”
“Fuck you.”
He stops next to me on his way to the door. “Give me your gun.”
I raise a brow. He doesn’t budge.
With a huff, I pull the weapon out from behind me and shove it into his hand. “I love how you think I need a gun to kill whoever this is. I’ve got a marble bust heavy enough to crack a skull. A letter opener sharper than a blade. Hell, I could drown him in a glass of 1942 and toast while I do it. You really think emptying my holster is gonna make a difference?”
“What kind of parent would I be if I made it easy for you? Now fucking behave.”
The door creaks wider, slow like it’s teasing me, the shadows stretching long across the rug. Heavy footsteps hit the floor just outside, the steady thump of a cane dragging a beat behind. That sound…the gods must be fucking with me right now.
Anthony.
“Motherfucker.” My fingers curl into fists on instinct as I leap to my feet, chair screeching back hard enough to gouge the rug. Every muscle screams to break him, to put his face through the nearest shelf. The sight of him inthis house—inmyspace—feels like someone poured gasoline straight into my goddamn veins.
Maximo slams a palm to my chest, shoving me back a stride.
“Easy, Cujo. This is a library, not a kennel. Don’t start foaming at the mouth.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.” My voice comes out shredded, guttural.
Maximo smirks, though his grip on me tightens. “See, that’s the thing—I like these walls blood-free. And Alexius already gave his word that this SOB will walk out of here today alive.”
“I don’t give a fuck about my brother’s word.”
“But I do. So do not make me kick your ass.”
My glower tears from Anthony to Maximo. “I’d love to see you try.”
He leans in, jaw tight and whispers with a hiss, “You look like shit, man. You think acting like a rabid dog is intimidating. It’s pathetic. So, pull your fucking shit together and do not embarrass this family.”
“You think I care aboutthisfamily right now?”
“Probably not.” Maximo tilts his head, voice sharp as broken glass. “You think Everly’s gonna swoon when she hears you snapped her best friend’s neck in the family library? You think she’ll cradle your drunk ass and whisper about what a hero you are?” His lip curls. “No. She’ll never forgive you. It’s a miracle she’s forgiven you once.”
The words land like a gut punch, knocking the wind out of me. My fists shake, useless at my sides.
Maximo finally releases me with a shove that sends me a step back. “So sit the fuck down. Drink your bourbon. Glare at him all you want. But you will not lay a hand on him. Not here. Not today.”
The silence stretches, taut as a wire. The only sound is the tick of the grandfather clock and Anthony’s uneven breath as he finally dares to step further into the room.
“I’m not here to fight.” His tone is too calm, too measured, like he’s talking to a fucking animal.
“You sure as hell walked into the wrong room for that,” I snap, the bourbon bottle sweating in my grip. “One wrong word and I’ll crack that cane over your skull.”
His lips curl. “Go ahead. Beat the cripple. That’ll really make Everly proud.”
My vision goes red, my whole body coiled to lunge, but Maximo’s hand clamps my shoulder before I can move.
“The only reason you’re still breathing is because my aim was off once.”
“Your aim’s always been shit, Isaia. You can’t even hit the one target that matters—being there for her.”
