Page 3 of Merciless Oath

I sigh and trot after him like a puppy that got caught chewing on the sofa leg again.Please don’t give me a lecture, please, please.

“So,” I start as soon as the door slams closed, “time for burgers, or what?”

Rafael paces up and down the hallway, shooting daggers at me. That squirmy, uncomfortable feeling rises up again—the same feeling I always got when my father’s cold words shot through me like hot bullets. The same feeling that made me nauseous when my mother shut me out and popped another Vicodin.

I fucking hate that feeling.

“Don’t you have even an ounce of rage inside of you?” Rafael finally asks, stopping right in front of me. “I understand you’re basically a golden retriever personified, but don’t you hateanyone? At all?”

I trust Raf with my life. He’s my best friend, even if he acts like I’m the most annoying person in the world. But right now, I kind of hatehim.

“Sure.” I shrug, gesturing to the door. “But I don’t know that guy. How am I supposed to be… raging at him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rafael growls, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Violence, bloodshed, intimidation—it’s part of the job, Enzo. You need to figure out a way to channel whatever rage you have into your job.”

“Can’t we use alternative methods?” I beg, knowing I sound whiny and not giving a shit. “Like psychological manipulation or something? Isn't that why you picked me for this?"

“Kid,” Rafael says, placing his hands on my shoulders. The touch is weirdly comforting, and I relax a little.

“You know we’re literally the same age, right?”

“Not mentally, trust me.” He brushes me off. “Look, you’re the smartest guy I know. Smarter than me, and that’s hard to admit.”

“Sure,” I snicker, but Rafael shoots me another hard look.

“I know you’re going to figure this out and do it your way,” he continues. “That’s why I choseyouover my own blood to replace me. You’re going to change the game, do it differently… better. But right now, I’m trying to give you all the tools I have so that you’re not floundering in the deep end when I leave you to it.”

I lean against the wall and think about why I’m doing this. I never wanted to be a mafia don; in fact, it never even crossed my mind.

Computers, hacking, tech stuff—that’s me. When Rafael offered me the position of leading the Romano family, I was both terrified and honored—I couldn’t say no.

I had to prove myself—for myself, but also for all the people who doubted I could become something.

I used to be can’t-take-life-seriously Enzo to my parents, my ex-girlfriends, and my old friends. Perfect in every way, until I wasn’t. The life of the party, until I wasn’t.

Being the golden boy sucks when you’re never good enough, even when you’re the best. It sucks even more when the pressure makes you crack and withdraw from everything and everyone. Then people just pity you and wonder what happened to the smiley, all-American kid you used to be.

“Think about it,” Rafael pushes, his voice softer this time. “Think about all the people who have pissed you off. The peoplewho thought you weren’t good enough. Build that rage inside you, then unleash it on your target.”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, focusing on the memory of my father’s enraged face as he smashed the first computer I ever built myself. His voice echoes in my mind.

“You dropped the swim team for this shit? Sitting around in the basement like a lowlife loser? Building useless junk? You’ll never get that athletic scholarship now. You’re going to waste your life away in a cubicle, barely making minimum wage.”

A coil of rage swirls, tightening my insides and sending flames up my chest. I focus on a memory of my mother’s face, zonked out on pain pills, a bottle of vodka dangling from her fingers.

“Oh, Enzo, the imagination you have. Your father would never hit you. Why don’t you go do something useful instead of stirring up drama?”

The rage gets deeper and darker, sending sparks of electricity through my veins. My arms tense, fingers clenching themselves into fists.

“You’re getting it,” Rafael says, studying my face. “Now, get the hell back in there and prove yourself.”

I take a deep breath and nearly rip the door off its hinges as I stomp back inside the torture chamber. The man in the chair barely looks up when he realizes it’s me.

He’s not the least bit scared of me. All that blood—that was Rafael.

I focus on the rage like Raf told me. It sizzles below my skin, frying my usual neural pathways and sending my brain into a blackout.

Everything around me slips away, and I focus on the man’s face, sneering at me.

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