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Nate has no proof but we both know this is what happened and for that reason, Nate wants to punish him. This is how different we are. I just want to get to my sister, he wants revenge. Always revenge on his mind. Don’t get mad, get even.
“She’s a White. That makes her more important than you or any of your pig friends. You work for me first, Bianco second. Do you get that? She gives you an order, you listen. She asks you not to call Bianco? You don’t. Fuck, if she asks you to crawl on the floor, I want you on all fours licking it.”
Nate squats down and puts his gun to the cop’s head. He’s gone into his rant. He’s made himself angrier than he initially was, and he could snap any second from now. He starts talking through gritted teeth as if barely containing his rage anymore. He wants to pull the trigger so bad.
“Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir, yes! Please, p-p-please don’t kill me.”
I glance at Sam, he’s stopped smoking and is just watching the scene, his arms crossed over his chest, casually. The calmness on his face brings a chill down my spine. Does this guy even feel anything? I wonder what he looks like in Ozy’s eyes because he looks like a fucking sociopath in mine. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never seen him laugh.
The cries of mercy from Miller are starting to irritate me and I almost want Nate to shoot him already. Cut this short, I need to see my twin. Nate’s words have made me angrier at this cop. I want to take out my rage on him too. Had he listened to Rose, I wouldn’t be wondering if she’s still alive or not. I know she’s alive, Mateo would never kill her, I mean alive on the inside. Our ex foster parent has always made a point to kill the flame that burns so bright in her.
Nate straightens back up. “I’m gonna let you live, Miller.” His voice is cold enough to freeze fire. “Because I need someone to tell everyone what happens when you put my little sister in danger. Or any member of my family for that matter. Don’t. Piss. Me. Off.” As he says the last word, he shoots Miller in the calf.
The sound makes me jump. I didn’t expect it and this kind of sound is not exactly part of my daily life anymore. The cop’s strident scream pierces my ears and I look at Nate deadpan.
“You just said you wouldn’t kill him.”
He looks down at the mess of a guy crying on the floor. “Stoneview is about four miles that way,” he points somewhere behind the trees. “You should hurry before you bleed out.”
Miller struggles to get back up but manages and stumbles out of the way, hopping on one leg.
Once settled back in the car, I look at Nate through the rearview mirror.
“No time to walk Jamie home but enough time to shoot a cop to teach him a lesson, huh?” I point out.
He smiles at me with that wicked grin that shows he perfectly knows what he’s doing.
“Maybe I had a problem with you walking my girl home.” I see him shrug and I’m about ready to fuck him up all over again.
“Shut the fuck u–” I’m cut off when Sam accelerates suddenly, my back hitting the seat, then speeds up on the highway. His way of telling us to quiet down.
The sun is starting to rise by the time we get to the private drive of Bianco’s house. A horrible feeling settles in my stomach as soon as we stop by the gate. I know exactly what stands after the long road that leads to him. A gigantic Mediterranean-style house that doesn’t fit with the American architecture of this elite area of Washington.
A house that screams ‘Look at me, I’m invincible!’ to the cops and all his enemies. A house where it’s difficult to pass security to get in and impossible to get out. A house I moved into when I was just an eight-year-old boy. When I had no idea what true monstrosities life could throw at you. This is where Nate lost his soul, this is where Rose suffered silently for five years. This is where my life was dictated, where I bled and cried, forced to do unthinkable things. Things I will never forgive myself for – where the beast inside me was born. The one that protects me from being hurt again.
I feel sick to my stomach, but I don’t let anything show. Every single wall that the Murrays tried to break through, that my friends sometimes took down, that Jamie somehow absolutely destroyed, quickly come back up. Brick by cemented brick.
We’re stopped at the gates by two guards armed to the teeth but as soon as Sam rolls down his window they step back and the gates open. As soon as he’s parked, Sam holds his hand out behind him, toward me while Nate gets out of the car.
“It’s dead,” I simply say.
“You know the rules, mate. You can stay in the car if you want.”
You can go fuck yourself, mate. His British accent makes me want to stab him in the throat every time he opens his mouth. It’s a good thing he never talks.
Bianco and his stupid fucking no-phone rule. I put my iPhone and Rose’s in Sam’s hand. Every second that passes, I feel sicker. My heart gets heavier, and I have to dig out my old courage to open the door and get out.
The yellow villa stands tall, and I remember the number of times I wondered if I could hang myself with the ivy that hangs over the walls. We walk around the car and toward the front door. Guards nod at Nate and Sam but clearly don’t recognize me.
I do. I recognize every single one of them that tried to stop me and my sister from leaving when we were just desperate kids that didn’t want to be in pain anymore. Some are older, some are new, but I know exactly which ones are at the top of my list of people I wish I could kill.
Before Nate passes the front door, he turns to me and whispers in a warning, “Keep your pretty boy mouth shut and let me do the talking.”
I don’t bother replying. I don’t want to talk to Bianco. I don’t want to face him. Does that make me a coward? I don’t give a shit. I just want to get my sister and leave.
I remember the first time Ozy and I walked through these doors. We looked at the twenty-five-foot-ceiling main entrance with big eyes and mouths hanging open. It was impossible to separate us back then, always holding hands, always reacting to everything the same way. My sister has always been boy-ish and before height and muscles separated us, we were just two little kids that looked exactly the same. People always thought we were identical twins, that’s how similar we were. We were gobsmacked by the long gallery decorated with Italian paintings and marble floors. I’m not impressed now.
