Devious Vow: Chapter 35

Perspective goes right the fuck out the window when life punches you in the throat.

Every cell in my body wants to deny the word he’s just hurled at me. To ignore it and strike it from the record, as if he never said it at all. I want to laugh in his face for trying to get into my head so blatantly, and so stupidly.

But it’s her expression that gives it away. It’s the pain shattered like broken glass across Eloise’s face and reflected in her wide eyes that brings me to my figurative knees.

Massimo could bellow it a hundred times and I’d never believe him.

Eloise says nothing, and I know in my heart it’s true.

Oh God.

I want to go to Gabriel to see how bad he is. I want to hold Eloise in my arms. I want to spring to my feet, charge Massimo, and rip him apart piece by fucking piece.

I can’t do any of that right now. I can’t do anything but stare at him.

Icy cold wraps around my heart. A sick feeling washes over me as I drag my gaze from Eloise to Massimo. And when his eyes lock with mine, a dam inside me breaks, sending a tidal wave of nausea and resentment and horror crashing over my entire life.

Every memory. Every moment. Every scraped knee, and every triumph.

I look back at Eloise again, but there’s no coming back from this. No erasing it. And when I turn back silently to Massimo again, I know. It’s real.

Gradually, I start to notice the horrible likenesses. The way our noses are the same. Our mouths, too. The same sharp glint of blue in our eyes, so different from the hazel gray-green eyes of my siblings.

Slowly, Massimo’s grin widens.

“You know it, deep down,” he murmurs quietly. “Through the memories you’ve forgotten or blacked out, through the parts of childhood we erase.” He grins. “It’s still there, Alistair. Or”…his grin spreads even more…“should I say, Bruno.”

Something wrenches inside my brain. Something snaps into place and into memory.

…Bruno, baby, it’s time for dinner…

…Come hug your mother goodnight, Bruno…

I physically flinch as vague hints of memories maraud through my head and coalesce. Broken, shattered events I’ve long forgotten or shoved aside laugh cruelly as they claw their way back to the surface.

A mother’s kiss.

The screeching whine and sickening crunch of metal on metal. Of tires popping and shredding. Of a little boy’s terrified screams as his world shatters, and of the scent of gasoline and blood.

My screams.

“Alistair!”

Eloise catches me as I start to keel over in a numb haze. I cling to her, gritting my teeth as my vision swims.

Massimo laughs coldly.

“The thing is, dear brother Bruno,” he growls, “is that I found out early on in life that I enjoyed taking things from you.” He lifts a shoulder. “I suppose it started with your mother.”

I flinch. I know Massimo’s birth story. It’s no secret that his…our…mother, Allegra, died giving him life. It’s even been whispered that that, atrocious as it sounds, is what started Luca’s disdain for Massimo.

He chuckles. “Yes, I took her from you merely by being born, didn’t I? And then, when her sniveling pussy of a brother, Angelo, and one of my father’s more soft-hearted whores removed you from our home that night, only to drive off the fucking West Side Highway…”

Eloise holds me even tighter, her breath catching sharply as I stare right through Massimo in a daze.

“Well, so many doors were suddenly open to me, weren’t they? I took your position as first-born son. I ascended the throne after our father’s death.” He grins darkly. “I took the woman you love, too, didn’t I?”

“You…” I grimace. “You forged your father’s will.”

He laughs. “Our father, dear brother,” he grins. “And obviously. I got a deal when I had the forger do her father’s, too.” He nods his chin toward Eloise. “I had to take what was owed me, Bruno. You were always his favorite.” His eyes narrow. “Always,” he snarls. “I knew that at fucking five. Even after he thought you were dead and gone, he never did look at me the way he used to look at you.”

“When did you find out,” I hiss, glaring at him.

Massimo smiles. “That you survived the crash? The same time our father did. When you opened your law firm, and your picture was up everywhere as this hotshot young lawyer, the adopted son of Vaughn Black,” he sneers. “That’s when he figured it out. I mean for Christ’s sake, our father even went to you to have the very will that cheated me out of my inheritance drafted. The fucking gall, Bruno!”

Eloise’s hand tightens in mine, and she gasps as Massimo reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a heavy looking six-shot revolver.

“And today, dear brother,” he says icily, “I get to take one more thing from you.”

He opens the gun and tips the bullets out of the wheel and into his palm. He looks up and grins as he pockets all but one, which he holds up for me to see.

“Don’t worry. You get to choose what it is I take.”

He loads the single bullet into the gun with a metallic click.

“You get to pick, Bruno.”

My eyes narrow. “Pick what.”

He smiles. “Who lives: your love…”

I snarl, ignoring the pain and lunging to shield Eloise as he points the gun at her.

Massimo chuckles. “Or…”

I groan again, scrambling over in front of Gabriel as the gun barrel swivels to him.

“Your fake brother.”

What the fuck.

Massimo smiles again as he hefts the gun. “One bullet, Bruno. What’s it gonna be?”

I’m about to tell him to shove it up his own ass and pull the trigger, when he suddenly flips it around and hands it to me, grip-first. I stare at it, then up at him.

“Go ahead, brother,” he murmurs. “Take it.”

I snatch the gun from his hand, swallow my pain, and lurch to my feet. I glare pure hatred and darkness as I level the revolver at Massimo’s face and draw back the hammer.

“How about option C⁠—”

The dull click of a gun being cocked draws my attention to the single guard standing behind Massimo who’s now leveling a Beretta at me. A second click drags my gaze back to Massimo, pointing another Beretta at Eloise.

Fuck.

I lower the revolver.

“I’m insulted that you think I’m that fucking stupid, brother,” Massimo says quietly. “Now, you can drop the gun, or you can pick one of these two to die. Or,” he smiles. “If you’re so hell bent on an option C, I can pick for you. But, spoiler, I’m going to shoot both of them in that case.”

My pulse roars. My breath is coming raggedly, and my eyes dart from Massimo, to his guard, to Gabriel, and then to Eloise as blood leaks down my side.

“One bullet, Alistair,” Massimo growls thinly. “Tick-fucking-tock⁠—”

“You’re a betting man, aren’t you, Massimo?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’m putting the pieces together as the words leave my mouth, desperate for a solution, and I figure the longer I talk, the longer my brain can try and find one.

I’m not going to pick. I refuse to watch either of them die.

Massimo eyes me curiously. “You know I am.”

“Well then,” I grunt. “Let’s make it interesting.”

His eyes narrow on me, darkness swirling behind them. Slowly, his lips curl, and a spark of something I know all too well ignites in his face.

The thrill of a bet. Of wagering, and watching to see where the ball lands, or which horse pulls ahead, or what card the dealer flips next.

Massimo and I share the same genetics? Fine. That means that the same poisonous draw to gambling that flows in my blood flows in his.

And like a good lawyer who’s spotted a weakness, or a good gambler who’s spotted a tell, I’m going to use that any way I can.

Massimo sucks on his teeth. “Exactly how would you suggest making this more interesting?”

“Simple,” I grunt. “One bullet, one gun, right?”

He smiles. “You’re reaching, brother. It’s the lawyer in you⁠—”

“Let’s play Russian Roulette.”

The windowless room goes silent. Massimo eyes me coldly. Slowly, his eyes crinkle into a grin and he starts to laugh.

“Oh we are family, aren’t we?” He chuckles darkly as he eyes me. “Interesting, Alistair. Very, very interesting.”

“Yes or no, Massimo.”

“Who are you suggesting plays this game?”

“You and me.”

Eloise makes a strangled yelp behind me. Gabriel groans something unintelligible, trying to roll onto his back. I turn just in time to see Eloise rush to him, gingerly pushing his blood-matted hair away from his bruised, beaten face.

My eyes narrow viciously as I turn back to Massimo. “You and me,” I hiss. “Are we playing or not?”

He grins. Slowly, his chin nods.

“Okay, counselor.”

“Sir—”

Massimo stops his guard with a raised hand. He slips his gun back into his pocket and eyes me.

“I think the more the merrier, brother,” he murmurs. He nods down to where Eloise is crouched beside Gabriel. “These two play, too.”

Fuck.

“No,” I growl.

“You’re mistaking this for a negotiation, Alistair,” Massimo growls. “It isn’t. I’m intrigued, and I want to play.” He reaches out a hand. “Give it to me. Now.”

I hand him the revolver as he turns to his guard.

“Leave us. Lock the door, and don’t either of you come back in until you hear a gunshot. Capice?”

The man looks at his boss like Massimo has completely lost his mind. But he nods.

“Yes sir, Mr. Carveli.”

After the man leaves, Massimo turns to grin at us with a psychotic look in his eyes. “Shall we?” His gaze lands on me. “Please, sit, counselor. Right here will do.”

With a wave of dizziness, I lower myself to the ground.

“And you, my dear, dear wife,” Massimo snarls at Eloise. “Right there.” He gestures with the revolver. Her eyes meet mine, and I nod quietly before she sinks to the ground, too.

Gabriel, slumped on the ground looking half-dead, she and I now form a half circle. Massimo grins as he sits cross-legged across from me, making it a full one.

“You surprise me, brother⁠—”

“I’m not your fucking brother,” I spit venomously.

Massimo just smiles. “Apologies. Would you care to go first, Bruno?”

“I think the host should go first.”

He chuckles. “Well played. But—no.” He abruptly spins the wheel of the revolver and then snaps it shut.

“Let’s split the difference.”

I balk as he suddenly points the gun at Gabriel’s head.

“Your fake brother can go first. And since he seems to be snoozing instead of playing, I’ll help him out.”

“NO!”

I lurch and choke on my breath as the gun snaps a hard metallic sound and dry fires. Eloise screams.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Massimo lets out a wild whooping sound, gleefully looking between me and Eloise like a child who’s just watched a birthday clown pull a fucking quarter out of someone’s ear.

“Fuck yeah!” he shrieks, looking even more manic than usual. “That’s a rush! Holy shit, how have I never played this before!”

He lets out another whoop before he exhales.

“Okay, ladies next?”

He starts to turn toward Eloise.

“I’ll go,” I blurt, ripping his attention from her. She snaps her head to me with a haunted, horrified look. “I’m next around the circle anyway.”

I want to tell her it’s going to be okay. I want to tell her I can save us.

But I can’t.

Because even if I manage to use the revolver to kill Massimo, his two guards will come in, guns blazing, and all of us will die.

The only way out is to play Massimo’s game.

And fucking pray for a miracle.

Massimo cocks a brow before he flips the gun around and hands it to me.

“Well, counselor…your turn.”