“Vince, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, because I’m genuinely confused. He knows what I’m capable of. He knows what happens to men who sit in this chair, and he damn sure knows what happens to people who do the shit he’s admitting to right now.
Meeting my gaze unflinchingly, he asks, “You want me to lie?”
“No, I want you to not be an asshole,” I state.
Pointing at his chest, he demands, “I’m the asshole? See, I don’t think I am. I think he is. He’s the fucking villain, Adrian, and everyone loves him. What the fuck is that?”
“She doesn’t love him,” I state, since it’s clearly only Mia he cares about.
“Yes she fucking does,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to lie. You know she does.”
“If she does, it’s not like she loves you. It’s…” I trail off, shaking my head. “He’s the boss, Vince. Would you rather she hated him? If you want her to be a part of the family, she has no choice but to kneel to him.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want her kneeling to him,” he states, folding his arms again.
This kid’s a ball of fucking rage. How have I missed this? I knew he was pissed before they moved out of the house, but I thought their own space helped ease the burden.
“I thought you were over this,” I state.
He meets my gaze, just a hint of sadness breaking through his resentment. “You know, the last time we had a fight, a really bad one, I thought she wanted to leave me. But she wouldn’t. Not because she can’t—Mateo gave her back her freedom, and I’m not one of those assholes, I’d never force her to stay with me; but I wasn’t afraid she’d leave. Not because she loves me too much. Mia loves me, but not as much as I love her. I fucking adore her. I love her heart, I love her mind, I love the fact that even knowing the life I have to live, she can still look at me and see something good, but none of that is why she won’t leave me. She won’t leave because she wants to stay in his family. Because if she fucking left me, Adrian, she wouldn’t see him on Sundays.”
Sympathy suddenly hits me in the gut, because I completely understand how he feels. For years I’ve had to watch Elise’s infatuation with Mateo, watch her look at him the way I look at her. I feel bad for the kid, and I completely understand why this happened.
It just doesn’t matter why, because it shouldn’t have happened, regardless. Loyalty to Mateo is how you survive this family—a lesson Mia picked up quick, and Vince seems to have forgotten.
I hate the next question I have to ask. “Was this Joey’s idea or yours?”
“Mine.”
There’s a challenge in his eyes. No remorse, again.
Joey’s gaze is darting from me to Vince, but that relaxes him a little. I don’t know why—the asshole was complicit, no matter whose idea it was.
I nod my head, easing back. I hate what I’m about to do. I hate it so fucking much.
“Goddamn you, Vince.”
I hold his gaze, but I can feel Joey watching me as I pull back the muzzle. I raise my arm, aiming directly at Vince’s forehead.
He swallows, but he doesn’t look away from me. “Tell Mia I’m sorry.”
I push out a breath, my finger flexing on the trigger, and then I swing my arm and fire at Joey’s forehead before I can second guess myself.
Vince jumps as Joey’s body slumps, toppling to the floor beside the chair, a disgusting new stain on this cold cement floor and my own soul.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Adrian!” Vince screams, launching out of his chair and over to Joey. The kid covers his mouth, staring at the motionless body of his closest friend.
He doubles over, breathing deeply and letting it out.
I think he might throw up, but he doesn’t.
“Sit back down,” I say, like I’m heartless.
His gaze jumps to mine, and for the first time in his life, he looks at me like he’s seeing a monster. “You just… you just…”
“You did that,” I tell him, calmly.
His chest is pumping, his face pale. I know how close he was to Joey, I know what he must be feeling right now. Right now he probably wishes I was dead, but he falls back the few steps and drops his ass back into my chair like I commanded.
I take a step closer. “If Mia wanted Mateo, she would have him. He gave her a choice, Vince. Did he borrow her? Yes. Did he steal her? No. Because she didn’t want to be stolen. When she went to that poker game, he gave her a choice. She could have him and stay, or she could have you and leave. She chose you. He respected that. What else matters?”