“Damn, Father,” Roman says, his head tilting again, taking the attention off me and the wolves while getting back to the riveting conversation. “It almost sounds like you wish we were the ones to have taken his life.”
Giovanni lets out a frustrated huff and falls back into his seat, his heavy gold bracelet clanging against the table. “I almost do,” he spits. “Your uncle would come for you, but he’s too weak. He’d never survive it and it would end there. But once my brother takes Ronaldo’s life, there’s no stopping the chain of events that will follow. This will be the start of the end. The DeAngelis family will dwindle until there’s no one left.”
What. A. Fucking. Shame. It’s almost as though they planned it that way. How strange.
Power flourishes deep inside my chest and I have to force myself not to grin like a fucking psychotic witch at the mere thought of the DeAngelis family tearing themselves apart from the inside out.
Levi sits back in his chair, sipping on a whiskey. “Just say the word, Father. We’d more than happily intervene. You know we’ve got the power to stop it right in its tracks. All it would cost you is our indefinite freedom.”
Fear flashes in Giovanni’s eyes before he calls on every ounce of control within himself and covers it up like every murder he’s ever committed. “No,” he growls, his tone low and threatening, knowing exactly what his sons’ freedom really means for him. “That’s out of the question.”
Roman laughs. “Let me get this straight. You’d prefer to risk a civil war and lose three quarters of your family, destroying your kingdom than free your only sons? Are you that scared of us, Father?”
“Hear me and hear me well,” Giovanni spits through his teeth. “I do not fear you. You’re a bunch of lost little boys who don’t know where to draw the line. No, I don’t fear you, I despise you.”
Tension rises in the room and the wolves both stiffen at my sides. My hand knots tighter into Doe’s fur as I do everything I can to shrink back and melt into the wall behind me. A showdown with the most senior member of the DeAngelis family is not somewhere I want to be. Hell, these wolves better be prepared to get my ass out of here Jacob and Renesmee style, otherwise, I’m fucked.
I watch the boys closely, keeping my stare locked on each of them, terrified of this becoming a bloodbath, but they each just sit still, looking far too relaxed, but that means nothing around here. These brothers have the uncanny ability to go from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye.
The silence thickens and I watch the moment that Marcus decides he’s had enough. His eyes sharpen as the corner of his mouth pulls into the smallest smile that anyone else in this room wouldn’t be able to see. I hold my breath, the unknown weighing down on my shoulders as he clutches his knife, and with a practiced, awe-inspiring skill, launches it across the room.
I gape at the blade, my eyes widening in horror as it sails cleanly through the air before cutting right in front of Giovanni’s face, slicing the very top layer of thin skin that rests on top of his nose. The knife doesn’t stop, hurtling through the air until it finally comes to a plunging halt in the wall, the elegant handle protruding just mere inches from one of the guards’ faces.
Silence fills the room and it’s so damn loud I could hear a pin drop against the exquisite tiles. Levi watches his father with a keen eye as blood pools at the surface of his skin, dripping from the tip of his nose as Roman clenches his jaw, pissed at Marcus for pulling such a stupid stunt.
My heart thunders wildly in my chest as the guards prepare themselves, but Giovanni just holds up a hand, a silent message to wait as his stiff gaze rests on Marcus. I swallow hard. I’ve already been through the fear of thinking he was dead, and though I could probably hear his heart beating in this heavy silence, something deep inside my gut tells me he’s already a dead man.
Giovanni stands and takes a napkin before making a show of wiping the drop of blood from the tip of his nose. He drops the stained napkin to the ground and I watch in horror as he slowly walks toward Marcus, putting himself directly behind him. Marcus fixes his stare on Roman, and I have no doubt that if Giovanni tries anything, one quick nod from Roman would see Marcus ending his father's life.
Giovanni’s hand twists around the front of Marcus’ throat and squeezes tight as his other hand trails down the front of his chest, only stopping when his hand is directly above the healing stitches. Then without warning, his hand constricts, squeezing the flesh below. “That was a bold move,” Giovanni seethes as Marcus keeps his stare on Roman, not even flinching despite the world of pain he must be enduring.