Page 62 of The Scars We Keep
Lorenzo could be one of those men if he knew the truth behind the name he has been hunting for all these years, but first, I need to know why he is really here.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t give a shit about what you believe, Matteo.”
I slam him into the stone wall hard enough for the sound to crack through the lane.He gets one hand up in time to catch himself.Palm flat against weathered stone, absorbing the force before his face meets brick.
But I keep the gun fixed on his head.Keep the pressure there because I’m done with vague answers and careful deflections.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I say.
“You think my men would not already be here to put a bullet in your fucking head if I were not alone?”Lorenzo’s voice doesn’t waver.“You think they would let you stand here with a gun pointed at my head and do nothing?”
The bastard has a point.They would have been here the second I pulled the gun.They would have been around the corner, weapons drawn, with orders to kill.Which means either he is telling the truth or his men are better at waiting than I gave them credit for.
I press the barrel harder against his skull.
“Then what the fuck do you want?”I lean in closer, letting him feel the heat of my breath.The proximity to violence.The razor-thin margin between conversation and execution.“You just decided to take a day trip?See the fucking sights?Track down an old friend for coffee and a fucking chat?”
“Something like that.”His voice carries a dark edge of humor.“Or maybe there was another option.”
“What other option?”
“The one where you stay dead.”His tone hardens and becomes the voice of a man laying down terms.“Stay hidden.Stay the fuck out of the way while I clean up the mess you left behind.”
“I don’t want that life anymore.I have the life I want right here.So you can fucking have it, Lorenzo.You can have the empire, the power, and the fucking throne.All of it.I don’t give a shit.”
“It is not that easy.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because you’re still breathing.”Lorenzo’s voice drops.“As long as you’re alive, Matteo, the legacy belongs to you.That is what the old families believe.That Matteo De Luca is the rightful heir.That I am just keeping the seat warm until you decide to come back.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“I can see that, but they don’t.As long as they think there is a chance, they will not fall in line.They will not accept me.They will keep waiting for you to show up and take what is yours.”
I fucking hate that he’s right because legacy is a chain, a weight, something that follows you even when you walk away.It still exists.
“So what?”I ask.“Do you want me to publicly abdicate, acknowledging that you are in charge now?”
“There are other problems.Bigger problems.”
“Like what?”
“Your father, for one.I have been keeping tabs on him,” Lorenzo continues.“Alessandro has been back in the country for weeks, building alliances and calling in favors.He is preparing for something big.”
Fuck.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know exactly.He keeps moving, staying off the grid.I have my sources who tell me things, but I have yet to have my men put eyes on him.”
“Why are you telling me this?”I ask, because information is currency and Lorenzo doesn’t give anything away for free.
