Page 209 of The One
Eliminating the perpetrator’s family was always meant to be a statement, a warning. After all, a man’s family is usually his greatest pride. Though not so in that traitor’s case.
I let out a long sigh.
So far my forefathers, and Tiero too, have ruled by fear. And it works.
Maintaining it is exhausting. It breeds resentment, not loyalty. Perhaps with me at the reins, it’s time for a new era.
Tiero’s words cut through the storm in my mind. ‘Live for yourself, Teo. Not for the dreams of our ancestors. Promise me that.’
Upholding the law, wiping out an entire family for one man’s betrayal, would be living for someone else’s vision. Bloodshed in the name of tradition.
‘What do you really want?’
I never asked myself that. I followed the path laid out for me. Never questioned it. Never doubted.
But now? The answer is so clear it steals my breath.
One word. One person.
Mari.
I see her face before me again. Her trusting eyes, her tender smile.
I told her I loved her, yet the moment things got hard, I ran.
What kind of man does that make me?
I can’t imagine a world where Mari doesn’t exist. Where I don’t hear her voice or see her smile, where her heartbeat doesn’t sync with mine when we fall asleep, where she isn’t my light in this dark world.
I can’t imaginemewithoutheranymore.
It’s not just love. Not just desire. It goes deeper than that.
She is my life.
And like I told her, she’s my past, my present, and my future.Everythingis tied up with her.
And I want,no, Ineedto be the man she deserves.
A man who’s got his shit together. Who knows himself, and what he’s capable of. A man who rules byhisstandards.
And just like that, I know what to do.
The whir of the tattoo machine fills the otherwise silent room, a low, menacing hum that makes my skin prickle.
The sharp scent of antiseptic clings to the air as Angelo,la famiglia’strusted old tattooist, leans in.
I showed up at his house twenty minutes ago and dragged him out of bed. He didn’t ask why, just nodded when I told him what needed to be done.
The cold swipe of alcohol against my skin makes my stomach tighten. My chest, bare beneath the harsh overhead light, rises and falls in steady, measured breaths. But it’s forced. Mechanical.
The needle hasn’t even touched me yet, but my body is already bracing for the moment it will. For what comes after.
The pearls of blood.
My fingers twitch, my jaw locks. I can already see it in my mind. The little beads, bright red glowing like neon lights. A simple wound. Harmless. But that’s never how it’s felt to me.
I will not flinch.
