Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. No need.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I want to do it alone.”
“Are you going to kill him?”
“I promised him two days of agony and so, I shall deliver. Goodnight, Enzo.”
“Okay, but just remember, he’ll lie to you to save himself. It’s the kind of man he is. Take care with him.”
“Thanks, cousin.”
“If you need me, you know where to find me.”
We part ways and I head down to the crypt. I’m surprised to find it pitch black. I’d expected Enzo would have left a light on. I pick up the battery-operated lantern hanging just inside the doorway and switch it on. I didn’t bring my phone down to guide my way.
I hear my uncle’s labored breathing as I descend. They put him in the cell where Rami died. His blood still stains the dirt floor.
I raise my lantern to look into the cell. The light shines on the still closed bottle of water left outside it. I walk closer.
Angelo sits up.
“Cassian.” He licks his lips, and I see the effort it’s taking him to move. His leg is wrapped up in a bandage which is stained dark red. His designer suit is ruined, torn in places and filthy. His usually meticulously gelled curly hair looks unruly and too wild.
“Uncle.”
I watch him eye the water. “Please.” He gestures, trying to reach through the bars, but falling short. I walk over, pick up the bottle. It’s just out of reach, although if he weren’t injured maybe he’d be able to stretch for it. I twist off the cap and hand it to him through the bars.
He takes it, drinks half the bottle and thanks me, setting it down carefully so it doesn’t fall over.
“Tell me why,” I say.
“Cassian.” He shakes his head. “You know me.”
“Why does Allegra think she heard you? Why did she react the way she did to you?”
“I don’t know,” he says too quickly, his eyes shifting away.
“Do you remember, Uncle, when I was about nine or so and we played a game. I had to guess every time you were lying. It was easy at first. Your name. The color of the sky or my shirt. Then you’d throw a lie in there.”
“It didn’t take you long to understand what to look for.”
“Yeah. And I’m looking at it now. Tell me, why did Allegra react to you the way she did.”
He studies me, eyes steady. Enzo looks nothing like him. He’s fully his mother’s son. My uncle and I have the same unruly hair, although his is fully curly and mine is more a wave that seems to go in every direction but the one I want.
“Tell me, Uncle. Help me to see that I’m wrong. That you did not betray me. That you would not betray me.”
“Why would I betray you? Tell me that? Tell me why I’d betray you to Malek Lombardi. And if I were going to do it, why wait until now?”
“Because my father is dying. Once he’s gone, you could take over.”
“Your father’s mind is gone. The family knows that. They understand it. To them, he’s already dead. You are undisputed and I’m no usurper, Cassian.”
I sigh.
“If I wanted to challenge you, I’d have done it by now. I’d have fed the rumors that you killed Seth to turn the family against you. To steal their support. I could have cleaned out your accounts. All of them. Left you penniless. Christ. There are so many things I could have done.”
“She heard you,” I tell him. “You were there. Look at me and deny it. Do it.”
He looks, but he doesn’t deny. He doesn’t speak at all.
I shake my head. “I don’t know if you realize how much you’re hurting your son with this.” I turn away, make my way back to the stairs.
“Do you know the true reason I wouldn’t betray you? Because I love you. You are like my own son.”
I stop. “I think it’s that that hurts the most,” I say without turning back.
I expect him to argue, to have some comeback, but he doesn’t. “Leave the light. Please. Leave the light.”
I don’t turn back, but I do set the lantern on a stone bench before making my way back upstairs.
30
ALLEGRA
Enzo drops off the bag the following day. I unpack the clothes. I don’t much care about those. At the bottom of the bag is a shoe box. I lift it out. It’s the one thing I want from that house. The only thing.
I’m realizing more and more how little a connection I have with the house I grew up in. Realizing more and more how I can breathe now that I’m no longer trapped there.
Those years before my mother’s murder were different. For all her darkness, she was a light to me and to Michael. She was warm and loved us differently than my father. And I think he did love us in the only way he knew how, or maybe I’m being stupid. Maybe he was incapable of love. Probably, actually.