Page 35 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

“Calm down, Little Brother.”

“Fuck you!”

My fist flew through the air, but a knee jabbed into my side before I could land a strike.

“I’m your underboss, Gio.”

That made me stop. There was a hierarchy in the mob that no one disrespected. If Romeo wasn’t my brother, I’d already be dead. That didn’t stop me from wanting to kill him.

“You let him die.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” That’s the part I didn’t get. Romeo may not have liked him, but Atlas was still his brother.

He took his arm off my throat and sat up to wipe a trail of blood off his jaw.

“I did you a favor.” Romeo got off me and walked over to pour himself another drink. “Atlas would’ve stepped over both of our bodies to secure his place on the throne.”

That didn’t make any sense. Romeo was a fucking liar.

I sat up and glared at my brother. “He already had the throne.”

“No, he didn’t.” He placed a cigarette between his teeth and flicked open his gold plated lighter. “The crown was always mine.”

“Bullshit.” I said while jumping up. “Someone would’ve told me.”

One word. That’s all it took for Romeo to punch me in the gut.

“Why?”

And just like that, I was reminded of my father’s lack of confidence in me. He didn’t think I had what it took. That was obvious throughout my childhood. I was the disappointing youngest son of the boss. Not even enough to be considered as the back-up heir.

My father didn’t think about me at all. For fuck sakes, Romeo was the one who came to parent events. If my father wasn’t on the board, St. Agatha’s wouldn’t even know what he looked like.

I couldn’t say if Romeo was lying, because I wasn’t important enough to be told shit.

“When was this decision made?” How long had they been lying to me?

“After mom.”

Did they forget that it was Atlas who found me in that cupboard. He was the one who tried to shield my eyes from the bloody mess on the floor, while Romeo and our father talked over her body. Atlas took care of me. They forgot me.

“Did he know you were there?”

I didn’t have to explain who he was, we both knew I was talking about our father.

The look Romeo gave me was all the answer I needed. My father sanctioned the murder of his own son. Well, fuck him, and fuck Romeo. They could both rot in hell.

I stormed away and pulled my phone out of my pocket to shoot Darry a text.

Me: Where are you?

His response came almost immediately.

Darry: The Club.

Perfect. I needed to blow off some steam.

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