Page 24 of Inheritance
Nikolai stepped in, smooth as ever. “As much as I enjoy watching brothers bond, we still need a plan. Gabriel, your temper doesn’t negate the fact that Damien has a point. You’re running out of time.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Nikolai,” I snapped. “Why is it that the most useless men are always the ones lecturing?”
Damien spit blood, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. I met his gaze—hard, unyielding, laced with desperation. Damien wasn’t wrong. Neither was Nikolai. But that didn’t make them right, either.
“We’ll kill him in a few weeks,” I said, “But we do it my way. No bloodshed in neutral territory. Clean, fast, and without destroying our reputation with every other family in this city.”
Damien’s smirk came back, bitterness curling around it. “Your way. Fine. Let’s hope your way doesn’t get Caroline killed.”
Nikolai stayed quiet, but the gleam in his eyes told me he was already calculating the odds. And hating every second of conceding control, even if it was never his to begin with.
Damien muttered something as I shut the door behind me. I ignored it. That was just how he licked his wounds.
I meant to go to my room. To see Sophia. But I caught sight of my father clamoring down the hall—and the rage returned, fresh and hot, searching for a place to go.
He was the reason for all of this.
I let out a breath. Unclenched my fist.
I couldn’t treat him like Damien. He’d break in a gust of wind.
But there were other ways to give him a beating.
“Father.” My voice echoed toward him.
He turned, slowly, and just stared at me, his mouth wobbling like he forgot how to speak.
“Gabriel, is that you?”
“What?” I said, holding out my arms like that might somehow confirm it, even though he was looking right at me.
He took it as an invitation—and hugged me. For the first time in my life.
“What are you?—”
He leaned back, staring into my eyes. “My, you’ve grown. When did you get taller than me?”
He patted my shoulder, then looked past me.
“Who’s this?”
I turned. Sophia was standing a few steps behind me.
I took a step away from him, and something shifted in his face—recognition, maybe, or something trying to pass for it.
“Ah. A girlfriend of yours, eh? Hah. Wait ’til your mother hears.”
And just like that, he turned again. Cane tapping. Shuffling down the hall toward his room.
“Bianca,” he called out as he opened the door and disappeared into the dark. “Bianca,” again, louder this time. “Where are you off to, woman?” His voice sharpened, rising into a hint of anger.
I stood there. My mouth slightly parted.
Sophia stepped closer, her expression etched with worry.
“He’s worse now, isn’t he?” she asked, softly.
I nodded. The weight of it settled in my chest like a stone.
