Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
The hardest words I would ever say. The hardest truth I would ever tell when I’d only ever been a liar. “Yes.”
“To what!” she demanded shrilly. “Say it!”
"I’m broken, and broken people break things,” my breath was heavy in my chest, my throat burned with choking flame after flame. “You were pretty so I touched you, you were easy so I took you, you were lost so I found you, you were nice so I ruined you.” I licked my lips. “It was easy you know, making you feel like you were in control, almost too easy taking it from you.” I sighed. “I let you set the rules. I told you the truth in the end. I just never told you the target.” I purposefully didn’t answer her other questions.
The truth hurt.
She was nothing but a target, right?
She was nothing.
Believe it.
Walk away, Tempest.
Walk. Away.
The final blow, I felt it, I orchestrated it for this very moment. “Tempest,” I ground out her name letting it linger on my lips as the air carried it in a dark whisper toward the skies. “Really think about it, the circumstances. Me saying yes to you so easily, us getting answers so fast, the infiltration, everything being tied up in a nice fancy little bow. And then there’s you…” I sneered. It hurt to do it. A part of my heart cracked as I forced myself to keep talking. “In what world would someone like me, ever truly love, someone completely tarnished and easy like you?”
1
THE LAST NIGHT AND THE FIRST
LOUIS
I’ll live a thousand days, burn a million worlds, I will not, however, stand to be controlled by any man. I won’t just die on this hill. I’ll burn it to the ground. — Tempest Alfero
TEN YEARS AGO
Ilaughed.
That was all I could do.
“What do you mean—rub your ears?” I asked. “Buddy, just go to sleep.”
My twin was already snoring. But my youngest brother? He was wide awake, like always, talking through the darkness.
“Mama did.” John sighed, flopping onto his back. Ten years old and already stretching into manhood. Soon, he'd learn what that meant in this family.
God, I hated it.
All of it.
If I could throw my body over him—shield him from the blood, the fear, the legacy—I would. I’d burn every inch of myself to keep him clean. But he wasn’t mine to save. And our father? He’d do what he always did.
Nothing.
So, you held the soft moments tight. You stole the innocence before it was ripped away.
“Okay,” I said, crooking my elbow and lying beside him. I stared at the crown of his head, jet-black hair, then I studied his face, with the too-long lashes, crooked smile. I thought of that stupid, perfect, big-toothed grin.
I memorized it. Locked it away.
“I’ll rub your ears,” I whispered. “Just like Mom did. But only for a few minutes—you’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Mmm, lemme stretch first.”
Here we go. He raised his twig arms overhead and peeked at me from beneath heavy lids.
“See?” he said. “I’m sore.”
“From sitting in front of the PlayStation?”
“Saving the world,” he corrected. “Dad says if I believe in the Family, I can do it. I can save us. I’m strong.”
Scrawny muscles flexed.
I reached over and gave his right biceps a squeeze. “I’m impressed. Might even pass me up.”
“Nah,” he giggled. “You’re buff. Like… scary buff. But you’re never scary.”
My chest sank.
He was wrong.
I was terrifying.
I was rage, weaponized. A monster they kept on a leash. But for him? I’d be soft.
“Yeah?” I said. “I just eat a lot of meat.”
He nodded like it made perfect sense, hair flopping over his forehead. Carefree. Untouched. Just the way I wanted him.
“I like a good steak,” he said.
“But not too cooked.”
“Never.” His horrified look had me laughing.
“I love you, Louis.”
The air left my lungs.
It hurt just to breathe.
“Love you too, little buddy.”
I kept rubbing his ears like the world was still okay.
Like Mom hadn’t been murdered a year ago.
Like we weren’t hiding in Italy, caught in the middle of a war.
When I leaned down to kiss his cheek, I prayed.
I never prayed.
We were Catholic, sure. But I hated the church. I hated the lies. I hated the rot beneath the altar. I would’ve burned it to ash if I thought it wouldn’t hurt him.
Family was the only truth left.
And he was mine.
“Night, little buddy.” I kissed his forehead, stood, and turned toward the door—
That’s when I saw it.
Red.
Not mine.
A laser.
A dot.
Trained on his head.
Footsteps ensued. They weren’t hurried, they were measured, calculated, whoever was there wasn’t in a rush, they knew exactly what they were doing and wanted to do it well.
I barely had time to breathe—
Barely had time to scream—
Before the trigger pulled.
That night, I lost my youngest brother.
That night, I lost myself.
My twin and I ran.
We ran away from the bullets.
And we left our younger brother to suffer a lonely death in warm sticky blood staring up at a ceiling that used to hold stars we told him to wish on.