Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(82)

“I know,” he says, frowning, “but that doesn’t make it right.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it,” I say, waving it away. “Besides, I shot you too, remember?”

“How could I not,” he says, laughing a little as he shows me his patched-up thigh. “Probably gonna be a scar.” He lifts his pants up high and temporarily rips off the Band-Aid to show me the wound.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. It looks nasty, and I’m glad when he covers it up again.

“Gah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “I deserved it. I should’ve done the right thing and stood up to your uncle.” He shakes his head. “Still can’t believe he actually got all those innocent people killed. And to think I wanted to work for that asshole.” He blinks a couple of times and looks at me. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I reply. “He is … or was an asshole.” I take in a breath. “Even though he was my uncle, I’m fucking glad he’s gone.”

Matteo nods a couple of times, and it’s quiet for a few seconds.

“I just gotta find a new job, I guess,” Matteo says, snorting a little. “The hotel’s busted, and all your uncle’s properties were confiscated by the police, so I’m out of a job.”

“You’ll find one soon enough.” I pat him on the shoulder. “You’re a great bodyguard, and you have perfect aim. I don’t think anyone will think twice about hiring you.”

He seems to perk up a little. “You think?”

“I know so.” I wink. “They’d be dumb shits to let you walk.”

He smirks, and I can tell he’s proud of himself. Glad I could at least make one person a little bit happier.

“So what are you gonna do then?” he asks me.

I suck in a breath. “I don’t know really.” I think about it for a few seconds. “Maybe I’ll go visit some of my old friends. See if they still have a job for me.”

“Some old friends?” Matteo rubs his chin. “Now you have me intrigued.”

“It’s nothing you’d like, trust me,” I say, shrugging. “Just a boring desk job.”

That’s a lie, but I don’t want him involved. Not when that friend is Chase Marion, a homicidal maniac. But he’s filthy rich, and he knows right from wrong. We’ve helped each other out on multiple occasions. Or rather … I’ve helped him out a lot. I don’t doubt he’d offer me a job if I told him I needed one, but I don’t want Matteo to get on that side of the tracks.

He’s not like us. He doesn’t have that burning ache inside him … that vicious need to kill.

I do, and Chase knows it all too well.

We’re both monsters hiding in plain sight.

But we gravitate toward each other because no one else in society will accept us. We don’t belong anywhere or with anyone. So where else am I supposed to go?

Dixie?

No. She’d probably never accept me back. Not after all the suffering I put her through.

Still, I can’t help wonder how she’s doing. If she’s taking care of herself. If she’s finding her way back in her old life. If that’s even possible anymore.

I swallow away the lump in my throat.

Maybe I should go visit her and see how she’s doing.

It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?



*

Dixie



A week later



It almost never rains, but today the sky broke open. Ironic, considering today’s the day I bury my father. I can’t cry, so the clouds will force the water to roll down my face anyway. How poetic.

I stare at the dug up soil in front of me and watch the men lower his casket into the ground. I don’t feel anything except bitterness when I look at the wood under which his body rests.

Did he ever really love me?

All my life, I only wanted him to be proud of me. I was his only little girl. The one who always tried her hardest but never seemed to succeed in his eyes. I pushed myself past every limit for his love, and it got me nothing in return except a dead dad.

A dad who didn’t care for his daughter.

He cared so little that he just … died.

With a darkened face, I stare at the casket as the men leave me alone. There’s no one else here grieving for him, and I’m not even sure I am.

All I feel is the loneliness slithering through my veins, eating me up from the inside.

I have no one left.

Murdered brothers.

A mom who died of a heart attack a few days after.

And a dad who couldn’t be bothered to care about his own life enough to keep his daughter from becoming the only member of the Burrell family left standing.

Fuck.

“I fucking hate this family. I fucking hate you all,” I mutter under my breath.

It feels good to let it all out. Like a forbidden sin spoken out loud, finally released, but in a place no one will hear them. No one except me.

I will remember.

My family was all I had, and I thought it was important because my dad always said it was … and where did he end up? Under the ground. Just like my brothers and just like my mother.

No one who gives a shit about this family survives.

So I’m making it a point now to stop caring.