Page 69 of Reaper & Ruin
“Shut your whore mouth. The boy doesn’t get to demand answers in my house.” He snapped at my mama, not even sparing her a glance.
Her shoulders hunched slightly, her hands trembling as she set her drink down. She folded them neatly in her lap, her gaze dropping to the table.
I felt the anger rise higher in my chest, impossible to ignore.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I snapped, stepping farther into the room, cursing myself for being in too much of a rush to grab my gun before I left my apartment.
My father finally looked at me, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smirk. “Careful, boy,” he said, his voice calm but laced with warning. “You’re walking a very thin line. You do not talk to me disrespectfully.”
“It’s not disrespectful to ask a question.” I ignored the knot tightening in my chest. “What’s going on?” I demanded.
He leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening slightly as he studied me. “What’s going on,” he said mockingly, “is that Giovanni is dead.Finally.”
I froze, my pulse hammering in my ears.
I knew he was lying. But the way he said it—calm, almost triumphant—made my stomach churn with fury.
“That’s bullshit,” I said, glaring at him.
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “Is it?” he asked lightly. “No one’s seen him in months. For all you know, he’s already rotting in a ditch somewhere. And good riddance. It’s what I should have done the second he outed himself as being a faggot and brought shame to this family.”
My jaw tensed, nails bit into my palms.
I knew he was wrong. I knew Gio wasn’t dead. Heather had been sure of it when she called me, and I trusted her judgment more than I’d ever trust anything that came out of thisman’s mouth. But hearing him say it still made my blood boil, especially when he threw disgusting insults out so casually.
“Things are going to change around here,” my father continued, his voice conversational, like he wasn’t actively ripping our family apart each moment he was allowed to breathe. “For the better. I’m getting rid of the weaknesses in this family, starting tomorrow. And if you don’t stay in line, Emilio, I’ll get rid of you too. Do you understand me? I have other sons. And I can always make more if you all fail me.”
There was a creak on the stairs behind me, and I glanced back. Violetta—Violet—was hovering there, peeking through the railing. She had tears on her cheeks, and was shaking far too much for a girl not even double figures.
The room felt colder, the air heavy with the weight of my father’s words. The weight of her terrified stare.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod and play nice when my youngest sister and mama were present. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Tomorrow night, you’re meeting with the Romanovs. You’re marrying Sergei’s daughter. It’s already been arranged; you just need to show your face at the meeting so Sergei’s advisor can sign some paperwork.”
“What?” I snapped, the shock of his words making my temper flicker.
“You heard me,” he said, his tone dismissive. “You’ll marry her and help strengthen our family ties. This family comes first, Emilio. Not your feelings. Not your opinions.”
“I don’t—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.”
I gritted my teeth, biting back the argument bubbling up in my throat. There was no point. Not now.
“And my brothers are coming to town,” he added, with a cruel glint in his eye. “They know my plans, and they’ll help me execute them. It’s time to put this family back on the right path now that we’ve gotten rid of some of the rot tainting it.”
He stood then, straightening his suit as he glanced at me one last time. “Don’t disappoint me. You’re the heir now,” he said coldly. Then he walked out, leaving me standing there in the suffocating silence.
The second the door clicked shut, I moved. As did the little girl on the stairs, who barreled into the room and jumped straight into her mother’s lap.
“Mama,” I whispered, crouching beside her chair, and pretending the sound of Violet crying didn’t make me homicidal.
She shook her head quickly; her trembling hands fluttering against her youngest child. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m fine, Emi. Don’t make things worse.”
“It’s not fine,” I said firmly. My hand found hers, gripping it tightly. “Mama, listen to me. Gio’s not dead.”
She froze, her tear-filled eyes locking onto mine, as Violet sniffled harder.
