Chapter 222: Dead Man Walking [2]

[Music: Dead Man By David Kushner]

"I love her!" Elliot exploded, stealing away the suspense. "Did you think you were the only one whose heart she won? Did you really think you were the only one she brought light to?"

His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop.

"She brought light into this fucking family! We were just brothers starving in the shadow of everything our parents left behind—a legacy. We spent our entire lives carrying their name, their expectations, their fucking burdens, and we never even got the chance to become the men we wanted to be!"

I looked away, running a hand through my hair.

"It was always about the family. It was the family. Look at what it cost Caleb. They may think it’s some privilege to live as the Salveros, but it’s a fucking curse. A curse that claimed your childhood and mine."

"Enough." I pointed out. "No more words out of you."

"The truth hurts everyone, even you."

I chuckled. "But we haven’t lied to ourselves, have we? We all knew it was either them or us. Yes, it’s about the fucking family because we’ve only had ourselves!" I beat my chest. "No one. Only loyal dogs left by our parents."

"I lied to myself," he admitted with a nod. "Just as Anastasia felt about her sister, I have always felt that way about you too."

I braced both my hands against the table and dropped my head, dragging in a shaky breath that weighed over me.

"You weren’t just a brother... You were a father. And that was something I could never live up to. Never. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be trapped in that fucking loop? Like you’ll never amount to anything beyond the shadow of the person everyone expects you to be?"

I darted my eyes to him, and when I did, I offered no exchange of emotions, unlike him, who was ripping to pieces in front of me.

As though he had discerned something, he nodded once and then a second time, sniffing.

"If you wanna start a war and drag down the entire Salvero name, then be my guest. Just know I won’t be there when that happens."

He left, slamming the door shut. I reached for the decanter and tipped it toward my glass, but not a drop came out.

In frustration, I smashed it against the table. The shards dug into my palm, blood slowly oozing from the cut, but I didn’t feel a thing.

I hadn’t felt anything when Elliot unraveled before my eyes, either. That must have been what he saw... the emptiness... that made him walk away.

I eyed the case of cigars I haven’t touched for a while. Smoking has been one thing that has helped me process a lot of shits in my life, but now that stick couldn’t do shit.

Drinking helped. So I walked toward the mahogany liquor cabinet across the room and reached for a bottle of whiskey.

I didn’t bother with a tumbler this time. I drank straight from the bottle before collapsing on the chesterfield chair.

I tried to move my hand, but that was when I realized I was still bleeding, I used the other to pull out Anastasia’s anklet from my pocket, holding it up to my eye level.

~☆~

The car pulled up at the entrance, and my bandaged hand reached for the bouquet of calla lilies and then the dark aviator to shield my eyes from the blinding sunlight.

The door was opened by my men, and I got out, barely able to stand straight for a moment, but I walked through the entrance of the hospital as though I wasn’t on the verge of falling apart.

I made my way to the elevator, but I walked in alone without my men while they had to take the other one.

I leaned against the wall, pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of my nose, and kept my head lowered.

I heard my phone, and in irritation I pulled it out and saw the caller was Dr. Keller.

This had to be the sixth time he’d called me in the past week, and I knew exactly why.

He probably wanted me to have a sit with him and talk, but I don’t do shrink shits. It was probably Dante who put him up to this.

I ended the call and shoved my phone back in my coat pocket, pushing off the wall as I stepped out of the elevator.

My men were already waiting, and together we strode through the lobby leading to the private ICU suite, but the moment we got there, I stopped in my tracks.

The men I had guarded outside all lay dead on the floor, with their blood spilling across the pristine floor.

Each of them looked like they had been shot in the head, and judging from the angles their bodies were laid, it was done swiftly and precisely.

A Hitman? No.

No one had the guts to get on my bad side right now after how colorful I have made the Undercity.

"Lock the whole place down, make sure no one gets in or out," I gave the order.

"Yes, Don."

My men scattered instantly, and I let the bouquet slip from my grip, the white petals soaking up the blood.

I pulled out one of my guns tucked in my shoulder holster, cocked it, and moved, mindful not to get the blood on my shoe soles and leave an imprint.

Using the muzzle of the gun, I pushed the door open, hearing the soft, recurring beep noise.

I walked in fully, my focus first on Anastasia, lying motionless on the white sheets. A thin oxygen tube rested beneath her nose, while wires ran from her chest to the monitors beside the bed. An IV was secured to the back of her hand, connected to the fluid bag above her

Just like the camera feed I watched not too long ago, nothing else was out of place.

"They say a man who has nothing to lose is a force to be reckoned with." A cool, masculine voice echoed from across the room.

I was quick to point my gun at the man sitting on the sofa beside the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city with his legs crossed.

Ares King’s icy blue eyes darted to me. "Now you have my attention, Don Salvero."