Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Well, aren’t you somethin’? I don’t take orders from you! I follow the Bible. I made a promise to God! I don’t take that promise lightly. You Catholics ain’t even real Christians! I wouldn’t expect you to understand!” The man laughed mirthlessly, then sucked his teeth. “How dare you act like the family moral police, sittin’ there judging me! My love for them is what drives me to do what must be done! Something you wouldn’t comprehend. Ain’t you got ’bout three or four kids outside of your marriage?” Cyrus smirked. “Let’s ask your wife how SHE feels about this holier than thou attitude you’ve taken on today, you son of a bitch, when you’re nothin’ but a damn hypocrite. You’ve got at least two other families put up in beautiful houses, almost as nice as this one, and you visit ’em, those young ladies that pop out your illegitimate babies, one after another, while you sit over here and play house and land of make-believe with a woman you called your bride for over forty years. I saved your ass more times than I can count, Francesco, and the one time you do me a favor and it doesn’t turn out the way you wish, you want to lecture me about how I run my business, and how I handle my family. Keep your nose out it. Fuck you, Francesco.”
Francesco scratched his chin while Cyrus’s lips curled in a black, evil smile.
“I’m sorry, it’s too late for me to ignore your personal matters. You involved me, so, now I’m here. I don’t like what you’ve been up to, Mr. Wilde. I am very fucking disappointed… Those are your children’s children, for God’s sake. I can’t trust a man who would hurt his grandchildren this way. I can’t trust a man who would send my family after his own, like some wild dogs after a pork chop thief, and leave out important details that lead to a tragic ending, then have the fuckin’ audacity to blame me when the shit goes south! Nah… there is no ‘Fuck me,’ Cyrus. There’s only, ‘Fuck You,’” He seethed.
Cyrus pushed his jacket away from his hip, displaying a revolver. His ice blue eyes turned to dull bits of coal.
“Francesco, for the last time, my personal affairs are none of your concern. I think you know that if I don’t leave out of here in one piece, you’ll start a war between your family and mine. You don’t want that.” He grinned. “Several people know that I’m here, too, so don’t try any slick shit. You have far more enemies than me, and I lead you in numbers tenfold. My soldiers span this entire state. Not only will you be soakin’ in your own blood before the next sunrise, but so will your entire family, that you claim to love so fucking much. I think we better end this meeting right now before someone gets hurt.”
Cyrus stood to his feet, picked up the still-burning cigar, tossed it on his rug, and smashed it into the fabric with his cowboy boot. Just then, the office double doors opened. All eyes focused on a tall, six-foot-seven fiend—a demon who now stood in the shadows and stingy streams of light. He took a couple more steps forward, and his ice blue eyes shined like blue topaz. Eyes that were the same color as Cyrus’s stared back at them.
Kage donned a gray cowboy hat and dark denim jeans. Around his chest he’d strapped several rounds of ammunition, and in his big, meaty hands, adorned with tattoos and thick, shiny rings, he held a big ass machine gun.
Francesco delighted in the way Cyrus’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. The rude fucker was finally rendered speechless. No more throwin’ his country fried weight around. No more grandstanding and carrying on. No more pathological lying and senseless bravado. Just a man looking at a part of himself, and another looking at his fate…
“Kage and I had a nice chat the other day, Cyrus. In person. He told me the reason why he tried to kill you, all those years ago. That boy wasn’t crazy, was he? He was heartbroken.” He stood and pushed his chair in, then took a drag of his cigar. “Cyrus, what you did to my family is unjustifiable, but what you did to your own is deplorable. You may not believe I know God because I’m Catholic, but sir, I definitely do. You’ll burn in hell, and God won’t reach down and stop the fire simply because you’re Southern Baptist.” He cackled. “…And yeah, I may be there with you, twin flames, so to speak, but let me tell you somethin’. God will be able to charge me with a lot of sins, but He’ll never accuse me of sellin’ out my own flesh and blood.