The Wrath of Cain (The Syndicate, #1)(65)
I rest my head back on my pillow, grabbing both Cain’s and my father’s hands. Manny stands at the end of my bed.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I had no choice but to allow them to keep you under,” Cain whispers.
“It’s okay. I’m just a little taken back. I knew they drugged me. I knew it was heroin, but my God, enough to truly kill me?”
I lift my head. The pain in my shoulder is merely an ache.
“And what about you, Manny? Are you really okay?”
He looks great, actually. Traces of yellowish color spread across one cheek and under one eye. Other than that, he looks like Manny.
“I’m fine. My pinky finger is gone.”
He lifts up his left hand to show me his bandaged up stump.
“Oh, Manny. I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely.
“Stop. There will be none of this ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. We survived. Very few people do. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I couldn’t do a damn thing to save you from the shit my brother was doing to you and then that cunt. I hope she is living the true meaning of hell right now. Burning for eternity is too good for that dumb bitch.”
I can’t help myself. I start to laugh. I laugh so hard my stomach starts to hurt.
“So true!” I finally say. “And your brother is right there with her.”
The room goes eerily quiet. I look at all three of them in confusion. Again, an unsettling feeling overwhelms me.
“Royal’s not dead.”
Manny stops laughing before those dreaded words come out of his mouth. I feel myself gripping their hands even tighter. Tight enough to feel a stinging sensation.
“Shit. It’s my fault,” says my dad. My lips begin to tremble.
“I don’t understand.”
“Calla. Listen to me. I shot him in the shoulder. It’s the first time I have ever missed a mark. This is on me. I lost focus.”
I really take in my dad’s appearance. This is bothering him more than he is letting on. I’m back to the eyes. Always the eyes. He’s beating himself up over this. I won’t allow it.
“Dad, no,” I say sternly. “You did what only my dad would do. You saved your daughter’s life. There’s no fault in that. You all know as well as I do I would not be here right now if it wasn’t for you. Don’t ever say or think anything like that again.”
Dad and I have a very severe stare down. An ill feeling settles over me. There’s more to this story. These three can’t hide things for shit. The stiffness in my dad’s posture gives that away for damn sure. I continue holding his gaze, my eyes telling him I will never blame him for this. His holds a promise. A promise that he will indeed find Royal and destroy him for what he has done.
My father is the first to look away. Me, I stand firm. I could never blame him for anything. One thing is for damn sure. After everything that has gone down, I have made up my mind that I will do whatever it is Salvatore wants me to. Family always comes first. Royal may not have loyalty to this family, but I do.
“When did you become the wise one? Huh?” asks my dad, stroking my cheek.
“The day I was born. The day I became the daughter of Johnathon Weston Greer.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cain
Two people can be connected in such a manner that the health of one loved one can relate to the health of the other. It’s a true fact.
The moment I saw Calla being carried out of the warehouse, I died right there of a broken heart. Her beautiful face was beaten beyond recognition. She was unresponsive, her limbs dangling like wet noodles. If it weren’t for the EMTs who reassured John and me repeatedly that she had a pulse, I would have sworn she was dead.
That night, seeing her in the state she was in, not knowing whether her heart was going to give out on her from the amount of heroin that was pumping through her body, I knew I couldn’t live without her. For six years, I did everything in my power to protect her from this life, and in a matter of minutes, those years rolled into one nightmarish night after another as I sat by her side, waiting, talking to her about anything.
I’m not ashamed to cry. I’m human. I’ve cried a lot these past two weeks. Grieved, even. There will always be danger in the life I have chosen to lead. Calla was cast into it with her eyes closed. She now comes out with them wide open. My God, I’m so in love with her. She wakes up and one of the first things she wants to know is if everyone else involved is okay.
These past two weeks watching her go in and out of consciousness dragged on longer than the past six years did. She would wake up screaming and thrashing until the nurse would come in and give her medication to slip her back under. I never want to go through anything like this again.
This family has been through enough. Royal must pay. War has been declared now, against one man. No one has seen or heard from that son of a bitch since he somehow escaped right under our noses. John shot him, this much we all know. How he managed to slit the throats of two of Salvatore’s men and get past us is still a mystery. He’s now a wanted man. A man who has betrayed the honor of his blood. He will be caught. He will be tortured. And he will die.
I lie here next to my sleeping wife, holding her in my arms while she sleeps peacefully on my chest. My own body wants to give in and sleep, but my mind isn’t letting me as it continues to race like a horse. I have to tell her the rest. I’ve tried so many times to come up with a way to tell her. To find the right words. She’s been through so much. But this, this could destroy her. Every time I think about it, it breaks my damn heart.