Sin I Rise: Part One (Sins of the Fathers 1)

I charged toward Earl and grabbed his cut, jerking him off the stool. “We agreed not to torture her! You swore it.” I’d never talked to my uncle like that, especially not in front of others.

Earl’s eyes narrowed and he grabbed my wrist in a bone-crushing grip, trying to unlock my fingers but I didn’t release him. He’d grown old, but not less vicious. “What have you done?” I seethed. For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill him.

“Don’t forget who’s pulling the fucking strings in the club, Maddox,” he muttered, his expression full of warning. “And don’t forget who took you in when the little whore’s old man slaughtered your father.”

Cody had stood from his barstool and was ready to interfere. He’d had an eye on the position as second in command for years, always saying I was too young for the position. Killing me would make his day.

I unfurled my fingers, took a deep breath and stepped back. “You shouldn’t have done it. You went too far. I never agreed to this shit. I want to torture and kill Luca Vitiello, not Marcella.”

Earl tilted his head, stepping closer and regarding me with a challenging smile. “Is she getting under your skin? Where are your loyalties?”

“With the club,” I said.

Earl’s lips tightened. In the past they’d always lain with him but after what he’d done today, I wouldn’t follow him blindly ever again. “I am the club, don’t forget that, Maddox. If you want revenge, you better stop getting into bed with Vitiello’s spawn. She’s making you lose focus. Maybe it wasn’t wise of me to allow you to take her into your room. Maybe we should all share her.”

Cody’s face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. I’d cut his dick off before I’d let him anywhere near Marcella.

“I’m not losing focus,” I said in a much calmer voice. “But provoking Vitiello like that could lead to rash actions on his part. You know what he’s capable of.”

Earl smiled grimly. “This time, we are in control. He won’t catch us by surprise like last time. With his daughter in our hands, he’ll think twice before acting.”

Up until this point, I would have agreed with my uncle’s assessment. Luca wouldn’t risk Marcella’s wellbeing, but now that my uncle had started torturing her… my blood boiled, my chest constricting. Earl didn’t take his eyes off me. “With your actions, you forced Vitiello’s hand. He won’t wait for you to cut off more pieces of his daughter, Uncle. I thought he was ready to exchange himself.”

“He won’t find us. We’re well hidden. And if he attacks another of our brothers, we’ll send him another piece of her until he learns his place.” He climbed back on the barstool and emptied his bourbon. “He wanted to exchange himself but I didn’t like his tone when we talked. He still thinks he’s better than us. Until he learns his place, his daughter stays with us.”

I’d secretly wished for more time with Marcella, but not like this.

“The longer this takes, the higher the risk for all of us,” I said, fighting to keep my voice under control.

“I’m in control,” Earl said, his voice laced with spite.

I gave a terse nod, seething. Cody gave me a superior look that made me want to smash his face against the wall. I could imagine how he’d gotten off on seeing Marcella being tortured. Just thinking about it made me want to put a bullet through his and even Earl’s head. Fuck.

I stalked back to my room, my mind reeling for a solution to the predicament I was in. Marcella was no longer safe in this place. Now that my uncle had begun torturing her, he wouldn’t stop. He enjoyed it too much. Fuck. I, too, wanted blood, but not Marcella’s. I wanted her father’s brutal end, not hers. I found Marcella still in the bathroom. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the toilet seat and was watching blood drip from her ear, drop after drop, and landing at her bare feet. By now, most of her nail polish had peeled off, but what remained of it had the same color as her blood.

She ignored me and peered down at her feet. Then slowly she lifted her head but she still wasn’t looking at me. I stared at her profile, trying to sort through my whirlwind of emotions.

Even in a tattered and bloody wife beater and my old boxer shorts, Snow White looked more regal than any queen on a throne of gold and diamonds ever could. She carried her invisible crown with unabashed pride. Fuck, this woman had been born to be a queen and she fucking owned that title.

I kneeled down beside her but she didn’t look my way. Instead, she kept staring straight ahead, her eyes distant.