Page 14 of His Property

No prisoners.

No witnesses.

And the worst one of all…No crime committed outside of orders given by the familia.

In other words,nofreedom. I can’t remember the number of times I’ve been asked to take it down a notch. I’m despised by many within the familia for my enthusiasm for my job being too over the top for them. If it weren’t for Lorenzo Gruco, I doubt I’d still be alive.

I’ve used everything I can think of to satisfy my urges, and until the other night, I thought I’d succeeded. All meeting that woman did for me was show me just how deprived I’ve been and how much closer I can get to what I want.Need, really.

I cannot fucking—

There’s a crash upstairs, and I whip my head toward the ceiling. My shoulders tense, and my thoughts redirect entirely.

“Victor!” Gabi’s pained yell faintly reaches me in the basement, and I take off up the stairs before she can get another word out.

She yells again, and I sprint through the kitchen toward her voice.

“Victor!”

I run through the living room and shove open the curtain that acts as a door to the bathroom. Gabi is lying in the tub, her face twisted in pain and exertion from trying to get up. She props herself up on her hands, but that’s as far as she can get. Her shower chair is tipped over, and her scooter blocks the tub.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, hurrying around the scooter. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, avoiding her naked body while I grab both her arms and slowly help her up. I look down long enough to see her legs shaking before I pull the shower chair up and help her onto it.

“Fuck does it look like?” she grumbles, her eyes pointed down as she repositions herself and holds onto the chair.

I turn around and face the door.

“You know better than to get in the tub without my help.”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“You know you can’t!” I yell, instantly regretting it. I take a breath and speak slowly and calmly, pushing the worry away. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Spare me,” she says, hotly. “You were in the basement. It’s not like I was stranded here for hours.”

“Gabi–”

“Get me the towel.”

I turn and swipe the towel off the toilet seat lid, then I toss it to her and stare at the wall until she has it draped over herself. None of this avoidance I’m doing is for me. I see my sister naked a hell of a lot more often than either of us like, but I’ve become numb to it. She hasn’t.

It’s been eleven years since I helped her off the ground for the first time, and ten years since she was officially diagnosed with multiple sclerosis after an ER trip resulting from her falling down a flight of stairs. Her mobility has been in a gradual decline since I was twelve, but the last few years have been the hardest on her.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice soft.

She nods and only tosses me a glance before turning her head and blinking away tears. “Quit looking at me like that,” she barks. “I don’t need your pity.”

I don’t bother neutralizing my features. She isn’t angry with me. She’s just lashing out.

“What the fuck were you doing in the basement, anyway?” she asks, turning her head to me to glare.

“I told you. I’m reorganizing.”

“For days? Don’t bullshit me, Victor. I know Mom and Dad had a lot of shit down there, but you didn’t wait nine years to suddenly get a hankering for spring cleaning. In winter.”

“Do you want me to help you out of the tub, or are you still wanting a shower?”

“Nice subject change.”

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