Page 132 of Hexed
Maybe I don’t have to do what I feared. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before.
Maybe…
“And Aria?” I ask.
“Aria Kingston is no longer your concern.” He points a finger at me. “Your brother never would have failed the family this way.”
Nodding in agreement, I pick up my drink and take another sip, respite rushing through me like a waterfall.
Suddenly a glass crashes as Pops throws his crystal tumbler across the room, the shards smacking against the fireplace and skittering on the floor.
My body jolts from the sudden noise, the hairs on my arms standing on end.
“You have nothing to say?” he hisses. “You should be on your kneesbeggingfor my forgiveness.”
Swallowing around the sudden dryness in my throat, I gingerly set down my own glass, making sure to keep it on my side of the table.
“You, Enzo Marino, are the worst kind of failure. I gave youonejob. I ask this of you, to marry that stupid girl and make me proud. An easy task, no? Yet here you are, coming to me like a bitch with your tail tucked between your legs.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste. His body shoots forward suddenly, his gun appearing like it came from thin air. He shoves it against my temple.
My heart kicks against my ribs, but I keep a blank face. Reacting to his outburst will only make it worse. Briefly, my mind flits to Venesa and all the years she spent learning tonotreact. For some reason, thinking of her gives me strength in this moment.
“Maybe I should kill you,” he whispers. “Are you trying to fuck with me on purpose? Working with someone else?”
Blood pounds through my ears. “I would never do that, Papá.”
The gun clicks as he unlatches the safety, the metal cold against my temple. “How do I know I can trust you,figlio mio? After all, a simple pussy can sway you from your duties.”
My chin stiffens. “If you want to kill me to make sure I don’t betray you, then do it. I won’t resist,” I lie. “But if I’m gone,no oneelse will have your back.”
It’s a risk, stoking the flames of his paranoia this way, but I’d rather he focus on how he needs me versus all the reasons he doesn’t.
Pops’s hand is trembling. It’s slight, but it’s there, and I wonder if it’s a constant tremor or if maybe he’s not as unruffled as he’s trying to appear. If maybe…hedoesactually care whether I live or die.
“Put the gun down, Papá,” I say with a soothing tone. “I’m sorry I fucked up. It won’t happen again.”
A second goes by.
A minute.
Two.
Finally, he drops the weapon, placing it on the table in front of us and leaning back on the couch, his eyes going to the TV as though nothing happened at all.
Peppino’s smiling face is mocking me from the screen.
I sit back, my lungs aching for a deep breath and my heart crashing against my sternum.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Now you forget the Kingstons ever existed, go back to work, and I try to forget the way you brought shame to our name.”
His voice is monotonous, and his words are meant to cut, but they don’t hit like they used to.
I don’t believe he’s over this for a second.
