“We? There’s no ‘we.’ You left me! If you had been here, if you had been by my side like we fucking planned, I would have gotten that seat—”
“It’s not over, V. The final decision is made next week, yes? I will talk to Elio and make him undo whatever he did.”
“No need for that, there’s nothing to undo.” I could tell he was pacing furiously, his breathing was uneven. “I want to kill him. I will kill him. I will fucking murder that bastard and then murder his soul and fucking spirit until there’s no entity tied to his fucking being.”
“Vitale, just breathe. We will figure this out—”
“I want him dead, Faizan. He fucking played a bad hand. A terrible hand, and I am itching to show him what I’m capable of.”
“Continue along that path, and you will be dead before you can even raise your gun to shoot him, Vitale,” I said, rubbing my head at the headache that had begun to surface.
He went quiet, letting out a shuddering breath.
“Listen to me. Now is not the time to lose your cool, okay? We can’t have people see you like this; we’ve come too far for you to go batshit over a little stone in your path; you need to get your shit together. Where are you?”
His breathing was all I heard as he forced out the word. “Home.”
“Is anyone there with you?” I asked him.
There was a strained sound from him again, and I knew he was holding himself back from completely losing it. “People are around, yes.”
“Go to your room. Now. Align your steps with each breath you take.”
After a short while, I heard his heavy footsteps and incoherent counting, and then a door opened and closed.
“Have you been drinking?”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” he snapped again.
I blew out a breath. “Vitale. I am asking because I can hear your breathing pattern, and I need to know if you need to take your meds now or—”
“I am fucking fine!” he yelled. “My life just got fucking ruined, and you’re miles away asking about some stupid meds, pretending you care if I live or die! You don’t get to do that, Faizan! You don’t get to fuck with me like this when you’re fucking around with someone else.” Another shatter and a sharp shuffle as if he had left the phone elsewhere.
What followed next was chaos, and I pressed my eyelids closed as different clashes followed, some shatters, some thuds, angry groans, and grunts—more shatters, more and more and more; I didn’t even know how long it lasted. I just stayed on the line, listening to this man who had managed to stay calm for almost six years—after almost hurting someone he cared about—lose control in just a few minutes.
He cared so much about himself that he didn’t let something as manageable as anger issues mess with him. He got himself help, and he was better, better than he used to be, but hearing this, I knew how hard the blow of Elio’s actions had hit him.
Hell, evenIfelt the blow. We had worked our asses off to get him to a position above his brother with just wits and cunning.
Elio…God.
That man had targeted Vitale where he knew it would hurt the most, where he knew the damage would create more damage. He didn’t kill him—no—he was torturing him from the inside out—like he had done proper research on what exactly would tip off Vitale and drive him to the very brink.
He had given him time and space and made him believe he was let off the hook with just a primal warning—then he had struck, and he had won.
I felt terrible because I knew how hard Vitale had worked and how far he’d come to be in this place mentally, only to mercilessly break like all his growth had meant nothing.
Elio had played his hand well, and he wasapparentlystill playing it.
I could see it clearly, the way the mind of my boyfriend worked.
First, he instilled shock in Vitale’s mind, and then devastation, before it slowly progressed into anger, Vitale’s only flaw—the one he had been burying so deep all these years and was successfully healing from.
Then, slowly—ever so slowly—he would lose his mind and play right into Elio’s trap; he would want to attack. He would give Elio the perfect opportunity and excuse to do whatever he pleased without retaliation from the Society because then, everyone would know that Elio’s empire never struck first; Vitale was the one to throw the first punch. Therefore, it was within the rights of the Marino empire to take him out.
The clashes and shattering stopped, and only loud, distant breathing was heard. He was trying to calm himself, but I could hear a tiny wheezing sound that got higher and higher as seconds passed. I heard footsteps and hurried movements, drawers opening and slamming closed until they stopped, and then a strong puff of air down his throat—an inhaler—I knew because he rarely got asthma attacks, but whenever he did, it was around the house, within reach. His mother would never take that chance.
I waited a few beats, listening to him calm down, as my nerves did.
