“Whoever he is, he has my vote,” I sniggered and surprisingly she looked hurt. That gave me some satisfaction yet not enough to loosen the knot it my chest. Only her death would. “Did you not recognize his voice?”
“He sounded strange, almost robotic.”
A voice modulator. This man’s identity piqued my interest. She went back to the couch, picking up a set of knitting needles and shocking me into a silence for a bit. Watching her work the needles, I scoffed. Those hands killed men, robbed women of their husbands and children of their fathers, sometimes their mothers too.
What a fucking joke. “So, whose hands should you die by if not his?”
Her head snapped up, her hands stilling. “You want me dead?”
“What do you think?”
Her eyes narrowed, she gave me one of her stiff smiles. “Then what are you waiting for, Remo?” it was so causally asked, I almost threw the machete at her, putting an end to my misery.
Only, I couldn’t do it, yet. I needed answers. “Why me?”
Even in her dance with death, the woman laughed. “You weren’t special if that’s what you’re asking.”
Don’t give in, Remo, she’s fucking with your head again.
“I’m not.” I gnashed my teeth.
“What difference does dredging up the past make?”
“Always with the fucking arrogance,” I snorted. “You’re not a queen, you’re a has been and I’m going–”
“To what?” She raised a brow. “End me?” Slowly, she shook her head. “Even though I denied the thought, some part of me knew it was you, that you put him up to it?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, baby.” The words vomit inducing, I clenched my jaw, waiting for an answer. She set aside the knitting needles, stood and neared me. “Does Lorenzo know you’ve kept me alive, fed me? Gave me these little luxuries.” She swept her hand through the air, encompassing the room’s contents in her gesture.
My eyes drifted around, taking in the single bed, sofa, table, what looked like a miniature bookcase and an unappealing bathroom facility.
I cracked up. So hard, I had to lean back against a wall. “You think I had a stranger visit you, kept you alive? Fed you? Furnished this place?” I laughed again then stopped abruptly, anger defacing my equilibrium to stay sane. “What makes you think I did or I would?” I sneered, bringing the machete up and placing the blade to her throat. She didn’t flinch and I didn’t back down. “That broken boy who pandered to your needs ceased to exist the day I left for New York,Mother.” Heavy sarcasm laced the title. “I wanted you dead, rotting, dying like my brother did.”
Silence followed my statement. We glared at each other like two predators squaring off. Only, where she’d once won every single battle, I’d learned to beat her at her own game.
“Mateo was a weakling,” she hissed, breaking our stare down.
Each word stirred my fury, sparking the flames bolder and brighter. “He was your fucking son, he deserved respect, a fucking funeral worthy of a Rossi,” I growled, pressing the blade into her skin, not satisfied with the trickle of blood running down her chest.
“He was a pussy, easily manipulated,” came the snide remark.
“You obnoxious fucking bitch.” Breathing hard, I spun away, my grip so tight on the blade handle, my knuckles burned. I needed to know why before I took her life, I deserved that much.
“Ironic isn’t it, that you’re about to end me where it all began.” She chuckled behind me. “Where your training began. Where you became a man–”
“Shut the fuck up,” I pivoted sharply, throwing out my arm as I did and letting it swing toward her. The machete sank into herside with a harsh squelch and a triumphant swoosh as I pulled it back.
Silence fell momentarily, her eyes wide with shock, before a tormented cry split the air between us and she staggered backward. One hand grasped her side, blood pouring between her fingers, dark like her fucking soul, the other grabbed the sofa backrest, trying to keep herself upright.
“Why, baby?”
Her sob a broken sound that rattled inside my skull, forced me to slap the heel of my palm to the side of my head. “Get out of my fucking head!” I growled.
Wild eyes roved over my face, seeking something.
Remorse?
