“That so?” His voice was scratchy.Bingo.
“Hmm.” I nodded. “I did it to him myself. Well, Tiernan Callaghan and me. For sending you to kill her. We were…less than impressed with the both of you.”
If I needed to guess, I’d say he was licking his lips behind this mask.
“What’s the damage?”
“He’s not lucid anymore. Eats through a straw. Shits into tubes. Mercy killing is the humane option. Too bad he’s surrounded by coldhearted bastards.”
“And you kept this mum all this time?” he hissed out. “I don’t believe you.”
Anger. This was good. He was close to snapping.
“Told the Organization he’s abroad for medical treatment,” I said. “But for all intents and purposes, he’s dead, and we’ve taken over.”
“With what authority?”
“Our own.”
Tristan pounced on me, but I sensed it seconds before he’d even moved. He was acting out of pure rage. I had the time to step sideways and watch him tumble through his own momentum, and that was when I pushed him to the floor and straddled him, leaning my entire weight against his arms, which were pinned between our bodies.
Making sure he was neutralized, I snapped my elbow against his collarbone, fracturing it for good measure. A soft groan sounded from behind the mask.
“You’re a big boy. You’ll manage.” The level of sympathy in my voice was minus a fucking thousand.
I ripped the mask from his face, not knowing what I expected to see.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t…this.
He was about Luca’s age—perhaps a little older, around thirty-two or thirty-three—with dark brown hair—shaggy and unkempt—and baby blue eyes. A handsome, ordinary-looking man, for all intents and fucking purposes. One with a chiseled jaw and bedroom eyes. All he needed was a pair of goddamn Calvin Klein briefs and a horse. He had olive skin but his features were European. I couldn’t place him anywhere on the map. I shook my head, grabbing him by the head and jaw, ready to snap his spine. It didn’t really matter why he’d spared Tierney. If he wasn’t going to talk, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“You don’t want to do this,” he croaked, voice flat and even, as though we were discussing the weather. Danger crackled in the air. I could feel it.Tasteit, even. We were both on the edge of chaos.
“Oh yeah? Why not?”
“Because I’m your blood, your brother.” A taunting snarl found his lips. “I’m Vello’sIl prediletto.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Achilles
“You’re my secret half brother?”I pushed off him, up on my feet in a flash.
He stood and picked up his mask, then shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. He threaded his fingers into his shaggy heap of hair, tugging. He looked like a lot of things—angry, annoyed, in pain from his swelling fucking collarbone.
What hedidn’tlook was like my half brother.
Other than our skin tone—mine a few shades darker than his—we looked nothing alike.
“Yeah,” he said around thickness in his throat. “That’s me.”
“Not another word.” I held up a finger. “I’m calling my brothers.”
I wasn’t in the mood to recite all this bullshit to Luca and Enzo. We needed to sort out this mess together.
Luca and Enzo arrived at Fermanagh’s twenty minutes later. I thought about chaining Hale to something before realizing there was no need to. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d kept his identity secret until now because it served a purpose. With Vello practically dead, that purpose was gone.
“All right.” Enzo rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready for my Jerry Springer moment. Who’s announcing the DNA results? Tiernan?”
