Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(80)

“You … you fucking killed my papa?”

“Well, technically, I didn’t,” my uncle says, shrugging. “I hired some men to do it for me. I don’t like the excess violence. Especially not against a family member.”

My papa… murdered by his own brother?

Because he saw their drug scheme and wanted to do the right thing?

“Tell me you’re lying,” I hiss, trying to see through the rage, but it’s already getting black in front of my eyes.

“About what? His death?” He shakes his head. “It’s the God’s honest truth.”

“That’s not possible.” My lips tremble from anger. “The Zippo—”

“I got my men to steal something from the Burrell property so they could plant it there and blame the Burrells,” he says. “But they didn’t know that Zippo belonged to you and neither did I, or I would’ve told them not to touch it.”

“You’re lying!” I hiss.

“I’m not,” he replies. “I think it’s time you knew the truth.”

“You asked me who killed Papa. You even helped me get revenge on Ben and Danny! Why would you even want them killed if they didn’t do it?”

He snorts. “I paid for them to grow that batch of drugs, and they burned it down, so they needed to be punished for letting my money go down the drain. An eye for an eye.”

“What?” Dixie yells.

“It was my fault that farmhouse burned down,” I say through gritted teeth.

I can’t believe that was his reason for killing the Burrell twins.

“You?” My uncle raises his brows. “Interesting. Not that it matters. What’s done is done. It’s in the past. As long as my business isn’t threatened, everything’s fine.”

It was all for his business.

No wonder my papa wanted nothing to do with the reserve. My uncle ran the fucking place. And my papa always hated the Burrells too. He must’ve known what they were doing in that farmhouse, and that my uncle was selling their stash to all his clients and probably more people too.

And I never believed him.

Shame infiltrates my lungs, constricting my throat. If only I’d believed him then. Maybe I could’ve done something to keep him from dying.

Fuck!

If this is all true, my uncle is fucking worse than scum.

“Tell me you didn’t fucking have your own fucking brother killed,” I say, pacing around with my gun aimed at him.

All he does is smile as if he’s a goddamn devil.

“You took me under your wing,” I growl, still not wanting to believe he killed my papa. “I called you, and you came to me as if you didn’t know what had happened to my papa.”

“It’s called lying, and I did it to protect you,” my uncle says.

“Protect me?” I bark, completely out of my mind with hatred. “You made me believe I was responsible for my own papa’s death! And then I find out you murdered him?!”

In a fit of blind rage, I grunt and shoot him in the shoulder.

He buckles and grabs his arm. Then he aims and shoots back. I duck away but not in time, and the bullet lodges itself into my knee. I ignore the pain and focus on my aim, shooting at his feet. He jumps toward Dixie and grabs her, holding her up like a shield.

“You son of a bitch!”

“Now, now, Brandon.” He picks her up from the floor and holds her close, pushing the gun against her temple. “That’s no way to talk to your uncle.”

“You’re not my fucking family anymore!” I bark. “You don’t get to call yourself my uncle!”

I feel sick for ever having called him my family.

“That’s not how this shit works, and you know it,” he replies. “Man the fuck up, Brandon. You hated your papa. You told me yourself.”

“You didn’t have to fucking have him killed!”

“I did you a favor so you could finally get out there into the real world, and this is how you thank me?”

“A favor?!” I growl, my voice breaking from despair.

It’s so damn hard not to shoot him right now, but I don’t wanna hurt Dixie. She’s not the one who’s at fault here.

“Wanna kill me? Go ahead and try,” he says, pushing the gun farther into her skin.

Another tear runs down her cheek because she can’t stop looking at her dad. His death is all my fault. I won’t have hers on my hands too.

“Give up, Brandon,” my uncle says.

I swallow back my pride, and say, “If you promise she’ll live.”

“I can’t do that, Brandon. You know that. She’s the only reason I came here,” he says. “But I’m willing to let you live. I might even forgive you for your transgression if you work hard enough.”

I wanna shoot his goddamn jaw off. That’s how much I despise hearing him talk. But I gotta push through. I can see it in her eyes … Dixie’s about to act. I have to give her a chance to escape. Anything to make sure she stays alive, even if I have to lay down my life for it to happen. It’s the least I could do after all the suffering I put her through.

“Fine. You win,” I say through gritted teeth, and I put my gun up high in the air.

“On the floor,” my uncle says. “And kick it to me.”