Page 35 of The Diávolos: Part Two
We walk back to the common area of the cave in silence, and we meet Hen and Seba in the main room.
“What the fuck happened back there?” Seba asks us.
“Who cares about that,” Hendrick responds. “Are we killing the fucker or what?”
Evander replies with a nod. “Eventually, yes. It’s the only way.” He glances at me with an apologetic shrug.
It pains me to hear them talk about murdering my father with so much ease.
“Perfecto!” Seba exclaims. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands dirty for some time. It’s been too fucking quiet around here.”
Hendrick claps him on the shoulder and addresses the guys. “Dale, hermanos. We’ve got some plotting to do.”
Gianis cuts in, “I’m not staying, but keep me in the loop.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Hendrick jokes.
We are all tense. Me, Evan, and Gianis. Seba is in fucking la-la land, not having noticed anything as he lights another cigarette.
We ignore Hendrick’s question, and Gianis says his goodbyes.
“I want to go home,” I say, and Evander eyes me skeptically.
“You don’t want to be around for this?”
“I’d rather not hear how you plan on killing my father.” I gather my belongings, my chest tight. “I’ll see myself out.”
He grabs onto my wrist. “Not so fast, angel. I’m not letting you out of here alone.”
I snatch my arm away. “I’ve been fine without you this whole time.”
Evander laughs—it's almost maniacal. “Do you think I let you go anywhere without supervision?”
Supervision?
“Am I a child to you,maláka? What don’t any of you understand? I. Don’t. Need. A. Babysitter,” I grind out.
The brothers laugh at my outburst, and Evander only shrugs. “I don’t care what you think. Believe it or not, you’re valuable to a lot of people. It’s not safe for you to be without protection.”
I sigh. There’s no point in arguing with a lunatic.
An hour later, I’m back in my apartment—sans Evan—after convincing him to let me head back, followed by one of Hendrick’s guards.
I don’t think I would've been able to keep my composure in a car with him after our tense conversation. I just wanted to get home and be alone with my thoughts.
I set my things down on the kitchen island and throw myself on the couch, blowing out a loud raspberry.
The control I've had for the last twelve months is quickly slipping out of my grasp, and I’m not sure I can stop it. Things were perfectly laid out for me: go to therapy, write in my journal, figure out my past, work out at the boxing gym, and see my friends. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sounds boring, but I was enjoying a tranquil life.
It’s never calm inside my head, so I need it to be on the outside.
Seems like that’s no longer an option for me.
Now, I have to not only keep up what I’m doing, but also plan my upcoming nuptials with mystalker.Can I even still call him that?
And come to terms with what will happen to my father. I inhale deeply and rub a hand over my face.What have I gotten myself into?
I grab my journal and begin to recount my day, hoping that our plan will seem less crazy once I have it down on paper.
