See No Evil (Brotherhood Trilogy #1)(58)

#35:

Family Feud



Christiana



“I didn’t do it,” I slur again, blood glistening on my lips like lip gloss.

I’m sitting on a hard wooden chair, my wrists and ankles bound. Thankfully they’re not bound to the actual chair; two beefy hands have that covered. The brute behind me grips my shoulders, keeping me in the chair while some chick with a punch too powerful for her skinny physique dishes out some major attitude.

I must look like something from a horror movie. A golf ball has grown on my left cheekbone and blood is trickling down my face. Her rings are sharp. My head is pounding. My ears are ringing. And no matter how many times I tell this stupid woman what I did, she won’t believe me!

“Did you want him to die, huh? Did you stand over his body while he bled out on the cold hard ground?” she screams in my face.

I close my eyes against her wrath, and with a calm that’s supernatural, I repeat the story again. “Marco Sorrentino pulled the trigger. I went into hiding because I’m going to testify against him. He’ll go to prison for the rest of his life and Robbie will get the justice he deserves.”

“You’re lying! You lured my brother in and baited him.”

“Never!” I rage back. “Your brother was the sweetest guy I knew! Why do you think I want my uncle to go down so bad? Robbie never deserved to die! I would’ve stopped it if I could have. I’m going to end this, and my uncle will rot in prison for what he did!”

“That’s not good enough.” She paces away from me. Her heels are gunshots on the floor, making me flinch. “He deserves death.”

She spins back, her eyes narrowing in on my beat up face.

“Your whole filthy family deserves it.” She’s back in my face again, slapping her hands on the arms of the hard wooden chair. Her spittle sprays my skin like poisonous venom. “My father warned you not to try for revenge, but you were too stupid to listen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A son for a son? Yeah, well, now they’re going to lose their daughter too!” She snaps her fingers and the brute behind me pulls out a knife and presses it to my throat.

I want to strain and struggle but the cold blade on my skin holds me still. It’s an effort to fight the panic spurting through me. “What son? What are you talking about?”

She goes still, her forehead wrinkling. “You don’t know?”

She flicks her fingers and the knife disappears. Grabbing my face again, she makes me whimper. Her pincer grip is hard and unrelenting. My cheek is screaming as my teeth grate against the cut.

“They never told you, did they?” She snickers and crosses her arms. “So, how do you think your brother died?”

I study her face, cautious with my response. “What brother?”

Shaking her head with a pitiful laugh, she tips her head and glares at me. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” I mumble.

“So you weren’t born yet. Still, what kind of sicko wipes all evidence of their child from a home? You honestly know nothing?”

My throat’s so clogged it’s hard to swallow. My mind is racing. I don’t want to believe this woman, but she’s making it impossible not to. Her expression is raw with honesty.

“You had an older brother. He would have been six when you were born, but he was only four the day he died.”

Time slows down around me, the ringing in my ears replaced by an eerie silence. Her voice sounds far away but I can still hear every word she’s saying.

“He was standing next to your father, holding his hand while he accused mine of stealing from him.”

My skin prickles. I shake my head, trying to deny this truth but my gut’s telling me different. Vague memories of my mother’s distant stares, those times I’d spy her sobbing. The day I watched through the crack in the door as my father comforted her with words like, “It’s in the past. Dwelling on it only makes it worse. Our time will come, my love. All will be set right.”

I was so young at the time. I didn’t have the courage to expose my eavesdropping and ask what they were talking about.

As the years slipped by, whatever secrets they kept became distant memories.

At least they did for me, as I turned a blind eye to the truth and bought into the lies so I could maintain my lavish lifestyle and not have to feel guilty for my family’s shady business deals.

“He pulled the trigger first, you know. Your father shot mine in the chest. That’s why your brother died. My father’s gun went off as he was falling and your brother scored it in the head. There’s no coming back from a wound like that.” She purses her lips, then swallows. “My father was recovering in the hospital when he got a visit from the mighty Mr. Sorrentino. He swore that one day we’d pay for killing his son.” She raises her finger. “He never said when, just promised revenge.”

No! I don’t want to believe that! My father is not a killer. Marco is! He’s the devil!

My vision is blurry with tears. I can’t speak. All I can do is shake my head in denial.

“My father didn’t kill Robbie,” I manage to croak. “They didn’t even know about him! I met him at the end of the summer and kept him a secret from everyone. My father wouldn’t have known about this! Uncle Marco was just…”