I’mnot.
But Iampissed about being sidelined by an organization who went on and on about utter commitment and brotherhood and all that bullshit.
ScrewVaughn.
I smile smugly.
No.
FUCKVaughn.
Yeah, you already did that, and where did that get you?
I pout, sinking into the pillows at my back.
Ihatethe way my heart jumps in my chest when my phone dings. I also hate how quickly I fumble for it and unlock the screen.
The second I do, my smile fades.
My chest tightens.
It’s not Vaughn.
It’sDiego.
I click on the text and immediately gasp sharply, my hand flying to my mouth.
It’s a photo of my father, sitting at a table on a small apartment balcony, sipping coffee and reading a Russian newspaper.
…A photo that’s been taken through the scope of a rifle, the crosshairs centered squarely on Dad’s forehead.
Diego Torvallés
Don’t mistake my patience for weakness, Evelina.
Diego Torvallés
I want what I asked for. Find my bastard son.
Diego Torvallés
Do not keep me waiting.
15
VAUGHN
“Yo, Marcus.”
I keep glaring at my phone. She started to type a message after I shut this shit down, then ended up not sending it.
Fuck. I’mfartoo invested in?—
“Marcus.”
I scowl as I snap my eyes up. Carson is grinning at me with the glint in his eyes he always gets when he’s trying to stir the pot or be the cause of chaos and violence like the fucking unhinged instigator that he is.
Calling me “Marcus” instead of “Marquis” is his juvenile way of trying to get under my skin.
