Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“I’ll try my best not to make her fall in love with me, but I have that effect on women. You can just ask your sister the next time you see her.”
The piece of shit’s words pounded in my head, along with the never-ending questions of what the hell was going on.
Was my sister in love with him or was he just baiting me?
Did he break her?
Why?
What was the point of all this?
Memories of the women I’d broken for the sole purpose of trying to find Adriana consumed my thoughts. I was no better than Vitale and his men. My conscience always found a way to prove that I’d forever hear that little voice in the back of my head. There was no escaping it.
Repeatedly shouting, “You’re the same! You’re the same! You’re the same!”
I tried to refocus my attention on the task at hand, listening to the clacking sound of my black dress shoes on the broken concrete beneath every step of my feet. Each stride echoed profoundly through the obscurity ahead of me. Taking the shattered steps up to the porch two at a time, I stopped at the front door of the condemned structure.
Once again, that little voice screamed, “No good will come of this.”
More blood.
More deaths.
More souls.
Possibly mine this time around. I wasn’t concerned with the fact I was unprotected, I could handle my own. It was what I’d be walking into that had my nerves on edge. I’d lose my shit if I saw my sister or wife in any compromising situation. Based on my brief encounter with Vitale, I was worried about what condition I’d find Adriana. Emotionally and physically.
What did he do to her?
What was he doing to her?
How much psychological damage had he caused?
My pulse quickened, feeling the significance of those questions. The repercussions of what I allowed to happen to my sister was a burden I’d bare for the rest of my life. It was hard imagining Ari as a broken spirit. She was always so full of life. The level of trauma she may have experienced wasn’t something I considered until Vitale spoke about her in such a derogatory manner.
My sister wasn’t street smart, she had no real-life experience. She was sheltered, guarded, anyone could take advantage of her innocence and genuine kindness. She was an easy target.
Trying to steady my composure, I inhaled a deep breath of stale air. There were too many questions and emotions all happening at the same time, and I couldn’t control any of them. Deciding at the last second it was best to prepare myself for the worst outcome.
Was Ari here?
Was Sienna?
Vitale?
The man who orchestrated their kidnappings?
Gripping my gun firmer in my right hand, I opened the door with the other. It was unlocked, waiting for me to enter the unknown. The point of no return. Right when I stepped inside, I reached for the lights and turned them on. Quickly realizing this home wasn’t abandoned at all.
It was full of life.
Ours.
Mine.
The air from my lungs drained as I jerked back, not believing the scene I was observing.
“What the fuck?” I breathed out, shaking my head. Shocked by what I was seeing.
Closing the old wood door behind me, I leaned against it. Needing the support to hold my body up. I was overwhelmed with the scenery, a sensory overload of the timelines in front of me.
Pictures.
Newspaper clippings.
Birthdays.
Family vacations.
Monumental moments.
Sienna’s graduation party.
Our wedding.
I couldn’t keep up with all the photos, there were so many. Inhaling another deep breath, I reined in my emotions. I had to. It was the only way I’d get to the bottom of this senseless pursuit that was dragging me down. Pushing off the door, I took a few steps further into what appeared to be the living room. Slowly, turning in a circle with my gun still tightly in my grasp, I stood near the grungy couch in the center of the space, expecting the unexpected.
“The fuck,” I rasped, my eyes shifting from one article to the next.
New York Times.
The Guardian.
Daily News.
One right after the other.
My father’s corruption through the years filled the torn wallpapered walls as if it were a summary of his life.
Ari’s.
Sienna’s.
My mother’s.
Mine.
We were all there, taped to the walls in black and white. None of the images had any color. Some of them were older than others, while several were new pictures. Including my wife riding her horse that morning.
“You motherfucker,” I gritted through a clenched jaw.
I didn’t understand, and the more I tried to come up with answers, the less I had.
My mind spun.
My body throbbed.
My eyes were wide open, pitifully trying to connect the dots. A puzzle that felt like it was missing more pieces than I had to paste together.
“What the hell—”
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I reached into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and grabbed it. Looking down at the screen, I saw my father was calling.