I find it amusing that Eivor seems to think Alessio will be easier to deal with than me. I’m willing to make a deal, even now, but him? My brother isn’t going to be. Not if they cause my death. Whether directly or indirectly.
I groan and look toward the door.
I need to get dressed in some fresh clothing and get back home before the morning. Before someone finds out about what happened in that room. They’ll know when they wake up, and I want to have a little more time to prepare myself for facing my brothers about it.
“Fucking Soren instead of getting your shit together, good boy,” I grumble to myself. “How fucking sick are you?”
Tears are hot in my eyes, but unlike earlier, I fight them.
How could I enjoy what he did to me knowing what happened to me when I was young?
Maybe I’m even more messed up than I realize.
I take a deep breath, brush my fingers through my freshly washed hair, and decide I don’t have the time to deal with that right now.
I’ll just have to suck it up and move on.
Like I’ve always had to do.
14
Soren
“You’re the one who fucked this up, you’re going to be the one to clean it up,” Eivor tells me as I stand in his office. Unlike usual, he doesn’t even request that I sit with him and have some coffee, or tea, or any hot beverage or food at all.
I nod slowly. “I will,” I lie. At least, I think I’m lying. After all, I can’t just turn around and leave, find Carmine, shoot him in the head, and be over with it.
Can I?
I think about it for a moment.
Before, perhaps, I’d been willing to take him out as long as I was the one who did it. I told myself that anyway. Now? I want to throttle my uncle for even insinuating that I should be the one to “clean it up,” aka, take Carmine and his family out.
I don’t want to. I can’t. It’s the last thing I want to do now. I want to see so many more people suffer before I see Carmine suffer. That much I know.
But how do the both of us stay loyal to our families when Eivor wants me to clear a path for him to victory?
“What is it you want me to do?” I ask him.
Eivor scoffs. “You have to ask?” he waves a hand. “Carmine was supposed to die that night. Somehow, he ends up at a hospital with a mere bullet hole in his leg. I want you to make sure the job gets done this time.”
My jaw tightens. “Right.”
“Is there a problem with that?” he asks, eying me.
I take a slow careful breath, trying not to show him any weakness. Trying not to let him see how I really feel. Anger.
Seething anger and frustration.
If I were in charge none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be vying to take over the Dresvanni’s empire entirely.
“No,” I lie. This time I’m certain.
“Good, now get it taken care of by the end of the week,” he demands. “Or else.”
I narrow my eyes. “Or else what, Eivor?” I ask him. “Why is this so important to you?”
“The fact that you’re even asking makes me wonder if I can trust you,” he leans forward in his seat. “I hate even saying that, Soren, my boy.” He frowns.
