41. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

Despite it being late April, it's cold as fuck. Something I should have considered before getting blackout drunk in a random field in the town of Idontknowwherethefuckiam. Though, I guess I didn't intend on doing that. It just kind of happened.

My skin is numb, the damp ground soaking into my t-shirt and jeans, making me shiver. I didn't bring a jacket because I wasn't planning on wandering around outside aimlessly. I have no blanket either. Just took off without a care. Or maybe too much caring is why I left. Can't be sure.

I'd stopped at a store to grab a bottle of shitty whiskey and drove until I got to where I am. I'm surprised I haven't gotten shot for being on someone's property.

I don't recall exactly how I got here. On the ground, that is, not here in the field. I vividly remember randomly jerking my wheel to the right, going off road and through the field until I had the urge to slam on the brakes. Sat there for a minute, and when my truck didn't start sinking, I thanked my lucky stars. That's when I started drinking, and that's the last thing I remember.

It's dark now. It was dark when I got here too, but the hunger pain in my stomach and the pounding in my head tells me I've been here for a long time. Meaning, I was probably passed out all damn day and didn't even realize. I have no idea what time it is now. Don't really fucking care either.

Laying here, though the ground is somehow hard and mushy, cold and warm, isn't so bad. Staring up at the sky makes everything okay.

The millions of tiny twinkling balls up there are beautiful. Amazing.

And absolutely mind-blowing.

I mean, look how small they are, yet they're not. They just look that way because they're so far away. I'm the small one here, which is funny because I'm actually pretty big compared to most people. Which is a weird thought that makes my head feel funny.

No, I didn't do drugs. I'm just in a weird fucking mood.

Because I'm a piece of shit who got himself wrapped up in a mess he doesn't know how to get out of. Though I tried to fix it, I'm pretty sure I only made it worse.

Never has a job affected me the way this one has. Never has one fucked me up so goddamn badly. I'm not sure what to do about it. It made me panic. Then spiral. And go dark. Which hasn't happened in years. It's why I took off. Ran the fuck away, going as far as I could without looking back. Scared the living shit out of me. When I lose control, bad things happen.

After the date with Justin, I went out to have some fun. When things didn't turn out the way I wanted with him, I had a backup plan. If I didn't get laid, I was going to take out another mafia head. Gotta let the energy out somehow, and jerking my own dick doesn't do shit for me nowadays.

Once I knocked one off my list, I realized one wasn't enough so I went after another. That wasn't enough either so I went for a third. Well, forth, I guess because I'd already killed someone earlier that day. But it was after that last one that I realized if I didn't get my shit together, it would be the last. Not for the night, but forever. So I made sure I'd cleaned up after myself, then retraced my steps back to the first two houses to do the same. I can't risk leaving evidence behind. I can't risk being caught. If I'm not careful, I'll be behind bars. Or dead, if the right people get their hands on me.

Bet Justin is freaking out.

Or maybe he's not. Maybe he took off once he got paid, like he said he was going to.

None of his transactions have been out of state. At least, none that I saw when I last checked his account. Not sure how long ago that was. Could have been yesterday. Could have been a week ago. Don't know what day it is to figure it out.

He called and texted a few times—okay, a lot of times. Won't lie it made my chest do that warm jittery thing, but I couldn't talk to him. Not when I'm like that. I don't want him to see those parts of me. They're ugly. Too dark. I don't like them, no way in hell he will. He barely likes the parts about me everyone else does.

It's why I didn't bother charging my phone. It's dead now. Who knows what he's up to. Which sucks, because I'm used to knowing his every move. Though, with it being so late, I can assume he's asleep. At least in bed. He better be in his own bed and not someone else's. That'll send me off the rails for sure. Not sure I'd come back from that.

I should let it go—let him go. After he finds out what I did, he'll never forgive me. Whatever chance I thought I had is gone. He'll hate me when he learns the truth. Maybe I should let him kill me so he can get more money. I'll leave him everything I have too. The guy will be richer than he could ever imagine. He'd be doing me a favor by putting me out of my misery. Not like there's anyone to miss me. Only person who cares about me is myself. Yet right now? I can't find it in me to care about me. Which is odd for me. Normally, I love who I am. I'm proud to be me.

No matter how much shit I've heard from my father over the years about needing to be different. Quieter. More serious. Less eccentric. None of it mattered. I'm still me. Thankfully, my skills had him biting his tongue half the time. Not that he was worried I'd use them on him, but because he needed me to do his bidding. He wouldn't be where he is right now if it weren't for me. The whole time, I held the power, though he always made me believe it was him.

Being the head of the Bratva is something I could have taken. But I didn't want it. I don't want that life. Don't care about a single thing the mafia life gives you. I could do without any of it. Problem is I was born into it and that means I don't get a choice.

Which is why I have to let go of Justin. Not only let him go but kill him.

How the fuck am I going to do that?

He's a compulsion. An obsession. It isn't healthy, but most things we indulge in aren't.

There is something about him I have to have. Something I like, want, and need. I crave him all the damn time. It's more than the way he looks; it's the way I feel when I look at him. The way he gives me shit, argues with me, denies me—and himself—yet lets me put him in his place anyway. The way his body reacts to me being forceful and taking what I want. The way he makes himself believe his lies. How easily he can lie to himself at all. It's adorable when he pretends to hate me, when I know he lo—

Yeah, I need to stop. I'm only burying myself deeper here.

What I should do is get my sorry ass up and head home. Shower. Eat something. Figure out how to fix this massive problem I've made for myself. Because this job isn't done.

And it isn't going to be done.

Because I need to be honest with myself.

I can't kill Justin.

I just can't.

The thought of him never being mine is hard enough to deal with. But the thought of never seeing him again? Of this world being without him? I can't handle that. It's impossible to even imagine. And after getting half the job done? I know it'll be impossible to finish it. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Not only because Justin will never forgive me, but because they look so much alike…

Anyone who knows them, really knows them, could see the differences. It's mostly in the eyes. Justin, though cold on the outside, has a warmth to his blue eyes. Like the way the sky clears after a storm.

But his twin? Pure fucking evil, right down to his core. Those blue eyes are like icicles that wouldn't thaw if you shoved them directly into the sun.

Ending the life of someone who looks exactly like the man I'm obsessed with was torture. And the aftermath is going to be even worse.

This was supposed to be an easy job.

Take out the Farina twins. That's it. That's all it was. A simple. Fucking. Job.

I never expected this to happen. Never.

So what the fuck do I do now?

If I don't go through with this, my father will find someone who will. He's already threatened to kill me himself. The old-fashioned way, he'd said. Meaning if I don't do what I'm told, I'm no good to him. And people who are no good to him are better off dead.

That's the least of my concerns. I can take on any assassin who comes after me. My father knows I'm the best, so I'd love to see the kind of tool he'd find to kill me. No one would succeed. No one.

But it's not about me; it's about Justin. If I don't kill him, someone else will. I can't be with him all the time. I mean, I could and I want to, but he won't let me. I know that hasn't stopped me from doing it on the down low, but this is different. I'm not so stupid to think I could manage a way to be around him 24/7 and he allow it, no matter the situation. Even if I explained it all, he wouldn't accept my help.

So really, I guess there's only one answer here. If I can't kill Justin, I'll have to kill two other people instead.

Federico Farina, the man who wants Justin and Jackson's family inheritance.

And my father.

I climb to my feet. Everything spins and I close my eyes, steadying myself as I stumble back a few steps. After a moment, I'm good enough to walk so I head toward my truck that I can just barely make out in the moonlight. How did it get so far? Carefully, I make my way to it, patting every inch of my body to find my keys. I don't have them, so hopefully they're in the truck. My cell too, because that isn't on me either.

I have a plan. May not be the best, but it's something.

Get the fuck out of here. Get food. Figure out how to kill Federico and my father. Beg Justin to forgive me. Make that fucker marry me.

My dick gets hard just thinking about him in a suit. The one he wore at his cousin's wedding has been the main star of my fantasies since that night. Those too-tight pants hugged his nuts like an inmate holding his last meal. Fuck, he was so hot. He—no.

Stop it, Sevastian.

I need to make him forgive me before I start thinking about marriage. This may be something he doesn't forgive me over. That's another thing I need to figure out, but I can worry about that later. Right now, I need to get back to my man. All the other shit can wait.