Page 64 of Vengeance

29

Viper

Pray is being held in a secure prison in the middle of fucking nowhere. It’s one of those fancy fucking prisons for the rich. I guess the saying that the rich never go broke is true. Because even with most of his assets frozen or seized, he can afford to pay extra to be kept in this place. A place I would have probably happily signed up for if it meant this or the handful of foster homes I was placed in over the course of a year before I said fuck it and ran away.

He's kept in strict isolation with a strict and small roster of who is allow to come see him. The head investigator for his case. His attorney. The guard who brings him food. The janitor who comes to clean his cell under strict supervision. There’s also a strict sign in and security procedure.

In essence, the investigators want him alive and well to tell them everyone he was working with and connected to so they can get their hands on them. I don’t know whether or not Pray would talk if his lawyers and the feds gave him a good deal. His only code of honor is to himself, after all, and there’s only one rule to it. Preserve and save himself. Everyone else is expendable.

But he’s an old man being accused a heinous crimes. No matter how good the deal is, he’s going to die in prison, and I know for a fact he’s spiteful enough to take everyone down with him. Especially me and Dele. Even without any evidence thanks to Eileen’s quick moving in helping to gather, secure, and erase anything that could connect us to any of his illegal businesses.

It doesn’t matter though. We’re going to make sure he doesn’t get the chance.

We walk right past all the steps to the extensive check-in process. The detector doesn’t beep when we walk under it. The cameras won’t record us ever being here.

The guard at Pray’s door nods and lets Dele and I in the room.

The room, while comfortable, is shockingly sparse. Nothing that could possibly be used as a weapon. Nothing that could possibly be used for Pray to kill himself. If he wanted to, that is. Pray’s too prideful and vain for that. If there’s one thing I can respect about him, he’s going to persevere to the end. Like a fucking cockroach.

He looks up from the book he was reading comfortably on his bed and smirks like he doesn’t know exactly why I’m here.

“Adrian, my old friend. I’ve been expecting you.” Then he looks at Dele and says, “And Miss Bianchi. Or are you going by Miss Fantoni? Since apparently you’re my secret, long lost daughter now, according to my lawyers. They showed me all the legal paperwork, documents, and, certainly forged, blood tests.” He chuckles and looks back at me, “You, Adrian are a lot more clever than I ever gave you credit for.”

“I’m probably just as clever or not clever as you thought,” I reply. I nod toward Dele and say, “The credit likely belongs to my wife.”

Pray looks at me, feigning wonderous surprise as he says, “Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order. You know, all these years people noted our relationship as father and son. I being the father figure you never had and you being the son I was too much of a workaholic to slow down and produce. And now look. You’re really are my son.”

“Forgive me for not being over the moon considering that I know what you do to your blood. Children included,” I reply blandly.

At Pray’s questioning look, Dele adds, “We know who Phae really was to you, and you tried to kill her anyway. And when that didn’t work, you locked her away to rot in fear for her children. They say even Satan loves his children. But looking at you, I’m not sure that’s true.”

Pray’s expression turns to steel as he looks at Dele and says, “Miss Bianchi.”

“Mrs. Fantoni,” she corrects breezily.

Pray continues as though he didn’t hear her. “I have to say that you, Addy, dear, took me by surprise. I never saw you coming. My own fault, of course. I should have had you disappeared away when you came with Adrian and Cres to view my vineyard for their wedding.”

I let out a laugh. And then another. And another after that, no doubt sounding as unhinged and unstable as most people believe that I am. Then, just as fast, the humor is gone, and I fix Pray with a stern look. Fuck, I really wish I could punch him right now. But we can’t risk one scratch on him that would call into question the suicide his death is going to appear to be. I’m going to have to settle with the look on his face after this one last revelation instead.

So I grab the metal chair in the room, no doubt carefully inspected to make sure Pray can’t take it apart to use as a weapon. Then I sit the chair in front of where Pray is sitting and gesture for Dele to sit down.

“I want you to look at her,” I command. “LookAddydirectly in her fucking face and tell me if you recognize anything? Tell me if you see what it was you fucking missed that you never saw her coming.”

Pray doesn’t say anything for a while, but I can look at him and see there’s no recognition. No dawning moment where he realizes exactly where he fucked up with “Addy, dear.”

“I’m really going to have to fucking spell it out for you,” I say.

Dele gets up from the seat, and I sit to look Pray directly in the eye as I begin.

“Eight years ago, you offered me a deal. Be your enforcer, help you take down your enemies, my comrades, and you’d spare me and my family. You didn’t intend to keep your promise. You already had plans to kill Phae because she was dangerous no matter what. But back then I was naïve. Back then, I believed you were a man of honor. I believed you were my friend. So I agreed with one request. We spare a certain Dele Martin.

“But you insisted she die with all the other Soles. You insisted I kill her, even though I was sure I could get her to see our way. And then you gave me an ultimatum. Her or Phae.” Everyone in this room knows how that all ended. Partially anyway. But Pray is about to realize it. So no point in needlessly going over the fallout. “That was the moment you fucked up. That was the moment you were doomed.”

It’s still not clicking for Pray. Still no realization in his face.

I feel Dele come stand behind, lean down, and throw her arms over either of my shoulders while leaning her head over my left one. She kisses me on the cheek, no doubt leaving the stain of her lipstick. Then she turns to look Pray straight on and says, “You should have just let him keep me.”

It finally dawns on Pray. Realization dawns in his eyes before he goes rapidly pale.

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