"Yes," he admits with a stone-cold expression.
And that one simple word tears my heart into a million jagged little pieces.
“I used you to get closer to your piece of shit father,” he spits out angrily. “I baited you in with money and sweet words, and you fell for it all.”
AndthisDamon is one I haven’t seen before.
He used me. And me being the naïve girl that I am, I fell for it. All of it. Damon never loved me. How could he? He's clearly a monster, some sort of creature that arose from the ashes of the house that burned down next door to be reinvented into someone I don't even recognize anymore.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” my father asks, standing up from his seat and slamming his hands down on the table. His wine glass topples over, and the red liquid slowly seeps into the white, linen tablecloth. I can’t help but watch the crimson stain bloom as if it’s a sign of what’s to come tonight.
Damon is alarmingly calm as he says, “I want the name of the man you sold my sister to.”
I stop breathing altogether. Sara was sold?My father would never…
But then I realize that maybe I don’t know my father as well as I thought…or maybe notat all.
Feeling bile rising in the back of my throat, I quickly swallow it down. “Your family died in that fire,” I whisper, but I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more…Damon or myself.
He turns to me and his eyes narrow. “My father died in that fire. I almost died when your father had our house burned to the ground, but I escaped.” Then, turning to my father, he says, “You sold my mother and my sister as sex slaves.”
I shake my head in disbelief. What he’s saying doesn’t make sense. All this time…all this time I thought the Rossi family had died accidentally in a fire. “Papa,” I cry, looking at my father with new eyes. “You lied to me?”
“The only liar here is yourfiancé,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
“I want the name!” Damon demands.
I keep thinking maybe Damon got this all wrong. Maybe my father didn’t do the things he’s claiming. I don’t know why, but I cling onto that hope. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.
But deep down I know Damon is telling the truth. The fire always seemed suspicious. And my father’s reaction was not one of grief. It was ofrelief…evensatisfaction.
Tears fill my eyes when I think of that poor family being murdered…Mr. Rossi burning to death in that fire…Mrs. Rossi and Sara being sold into sex slavery…and Arlo…poor Arlo living on the streets, all alone...
Suddenly, Damon pulls a gun from behind his back and points it at my father. “Give me his name!” he yells, spit flying out of his mouth.
My father stares death in the face and laughs. “You dare come intomyhouse and threatenme, boy? You’re almost as much of a fool as your father was!”
“Don’t push me, Ciccone,” Damon grits out.
“You know, if you kill me, you’ll never find your sister,” Papa threatens.
And if he kills my father…Damon will never make it out of here alive. Without thinking of the consequences, I step in front of my father and hold my hands out towards Damon. “Please. Don’t do this!”
“Move, Victoria,” Damon growls roughly.
"No," I say stubbornly, effectively creating a human shield for my father. "I won't let you do this. If you want to kill my father, you're going to have to kill me too."
The gun in his hand suddenly becomes unsteady, and he lowers it for a moment before raising it once again. "I saidmove, Victoria. Now!" he practically screams.
I know if Damon does this, there will be no coming back. If he kills my father, he won’t make it ten feet before he’s gunned down. Nobody wins in this situation.
Maybe my father did do the things Damon is saying, but Damon will be signing his own death warrant if he shoots a mob boss in his own home.
“You killing my father won’t bring them back. Don’t you get that?” I ask him, trying to make him understand why I’m doing this right now. I care about him. I still love him even though he betrayed me. I don’t want this to turn into a bloodbath. I just want him to walk out of here…alive.
“You’re right,” he hisses. “It won’t bring them back. But this isn’t about bringing them back, Victoria. It’s about righting a wrong. It’s about vengeance.” And then his eyes move to my father as he says, “This is called retribution. You took something from me, and now I’m takingeverythingfrom you.” The way he says it is as if he’s rehearsed it in his head over and over again for years, and I have to wonder if my father didn’t utter the same words to him when he was a boy.
Damon’s eyes focus on me once again, and I take the opportunity to try to get through to him. “You told me it was all a lie. Did you really mean that? Did you ever love me at all?” I ask, my voice breaking at the end. I’m trying to appeal to his softer side, the side of him I’ve seen as of lately. Maybe I can stop all of this. Stop it before it gets out of hand and becomes too late to turn back.
