Autumn Karr - Vendetta

He swallows nervously before he opens his mouth. “Why didn’t Devon kill you?” he finally asks, a curious glint entering his eyes. Stevie grins cruelly, and is about to answer when his phone rings. He walks out, his loud obnoxious voice booming on the other side of the door.

“Can I have some water?” I ask my cousin, smacking together my parched lips. Dom gestures to Danny, who leaves the room and returns with an iced bottle of water. Dom takes it from Danny and opens the lid, handing it over to me. I reach out with my free hand, licking my dry lips before taking a sip. I tilt my head back and swallow a mouthful before placing the bottle on the ground next to the chair leg.

“I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while,” he says, leaning back against his chair.

“I don’t want food. I want to go home. Alive,” I say pointedly. He can’t seriously be doing this.

“Your father screwed me and my father over. It’s time he gets what’s coming to him,” he says, staring out the window.

“My father took you in as his own son! Your father wouldn’t want this. He understands the basic concept of loyalty,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. My uncle, who is also my godfather, has always been kind to me, and when push came to the shove, he took one for the family. “Dom,” I say softly, my eyes pleading with his. He runs his hand through his dark hair, and then leans his head back against the wall.

“I’m sorry. There are a few things I want, and you’re in the way,” he says, pinning me with his gaze.

“What things?” I ask curiously, shifting on the chair.

“Revenge, power . . . ” he trails off, then turns his evil stare on me. “I should be the boss, not your dad.” Revenge and power? The boss? Like that would ever go down well. I roll my eyes. Great, my cousin has morphed into a cliché villain. He stands up, and I start to panic.

“Where are you going?” I ask, unable to mask my worry.

“To see if there are any loose ends,” he answers distractedly, eyes on his phone. “Have to go back to that fucking parking lot, make sure you finished that asshole Andre off.”

“You can’t leave me here with them!” I gape, turning to stare at the door. My wrist pulls against the handcuff, the pain making me wince.

“No one touches her until I get back, do you understand?” Dom says to George, his voice laced with an underlying threat. George nods once.

“Dom!” I yell after him, hating the neediness existent even to my own ears. My cousin ignores me, and storms out of the room, leaving me with George and Danny.

“Fuck,” I curse as the door locks shut. I did not come all this way just to get killed by these idiots. I did not shoot Devon only to die at the hands of my own cousin. I look down at my wrist; the red welts around it are burning in pain. Lifting my head, I slowly raise my eyes to George’s. I don’t know what he sees in them, but he takes a step back, and looks down at the floor. In that moment, I realize something. I need to stick with him. He’s the only one of them I know, and with him, I can at least protect myself somehow.

DEVON

“I love you, too.” The beautiful melody surrounds me and grips my chest, until I can't breathe anymore. A gunshot rings through the night and straight through my heart, shattering her words.

My eyes fly open. For the second it takes me to adjust to the darkness in the room, I think I might have dreamed the whole thing. Then pain slices through my shoulder and all the way down to my fingertips. I try to move my arm, clenching my teeth because it hurts like a motherfucker.

“The meds have worn off,” a silhouette says, standing in the corner. He comes closer, turns on the lamp and sits in the chair next to the bed, looking at me as if for the first time. “I'll have them give you more, but we need you conscious right now.”

The bed is not mine. The sheets smell like detergent, artificially fresh. Nothing like her.

My uncle leans his elbows on the bed, making eye contact. I look away, ashamed. By now he must know what I've done, and how I've betrayed us. Our name.

And for what?

Finally I look back at him. He doesn't look good at all. Actually, I think this might be the first time I've seen him look so . . . distraught. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling on its ends. He looks his age. His features are softer, his eyes younger, but worry wrinkles his forehead. The mask he usually keeps on is nowhere to be seen. It catches me off guard, just how much alike we are. No wonder people think we're brothers.

“What happened out there?” he asks. There's no anger in his voice. It takes me a beat to realize he doesn't sound disappointed, either.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so parched I can't say a word. Frank quickly takes a glass and pours some water from a plastic bottle in it, then brings it to my lips.

“I don't know,” I say after a few more sips. Because I don't know. One minute we were almost free, the next I was at a gunpoint. “I don't know what happened.”

“Think, anything. We need to know whatever you can remember.”

“She just shot me.” It fucking hurts to say it.

Frank nods, then gets up and walks out of the room. I glance around the unfamiliar walls, thinking it looks cold, despite the lamp warm light. I look down my body, and lift the covers to find two layers of blankets and a duvet. Frank comes back in with a woman, and she comes closer, flashing a light into my eyes, blinding me.

“He doesn't seem disoriented.”

The woman nods, opening my eyes wider and flashing the light into them again.

“I'm not disoriented,” I tell them. I don't feel disoriented.

“Can you tell me your name?” the woman asks in a soft, soothing voice. Her red lips bring back a flash of memory, like this is not the first time she's asked me this question.

“It's Devon,” I snap, narrowing my own eyes at her.

“Devon,” my uncle says in warning. He looks at her. “I think he's fine, Aileen. Thank you.”

She nods again, then takes out a pill bottle from her pocket, and puts it on the small table next to the bed. She points at her shoulder and smiles kindly, saying, “For the pain.” Then she turns around and leaves the room.

Frank waits until she's out before speaking. “Stupid kids. You could have died out there in the cold, freezing to death. If we didn’t find you in time—” He shakes his head condescendingly as he says it. As far as words of comfort go, it’s not much. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Devon.”

He's telling me.

“She tried to kill me,” I say in disbelief. What surprises me is I'm not angry. Rationally, I shouldn't have expected anything less from her. Her whole family is in danger. If the tables were turned, I'd probably have done the same.

“You'd be dead,” Keith Moore says, standing at the door.

I jerk at the sound of his voice, another shot of pain racing through my arm, but it’s seeing him that makes me furious. What the fuck? I look at my uncle, and he has the decency to look apologetic. I've never felt so betrayed in my entire life, and this is hours after the woman I love shot me without a second thought.

“What the hell is going on?” I'd yell but I don't have it in me, so I settle for enunciating each word slowly.

“My daughter is a great shot,” Keith says. “If she wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Now, cut the crap and tell me where she is.”

“I—” I pause. Why is he asking me? She would have gone home, to warn them. Suddenly, I remember. She called Dom, and then a car came and . . . that's where my memory cuts off.

You're going to be okay. Those are the last words I remember.

“She called Dom.”

“He's gone, too. We found his car in a ditch just outside of town,” Keith says, coming closer to stand by my uncle.

He’s gone, too? I look between the two of them, realizing neither explained what exactly all of this is. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It can wait, Devon,” Frank answers, and for the first time since I woke up he sounds like the Frank I know.

It can't fucking wait. I have my uncle and the murderer of my parents in the same room, obviously working together. “No, I'd rather you tell me now. Or am I supposed to just accept that he,” I spit the word out, making it sound like an insult, “is here, pretending like he didn't take my whole family away from me. From us!”

My uncle's face softens. “I know it seems confusing, but I need you to trust me. Have I ever failed you before?”

“Ever? You’ve fucking failed me my whole life.” I expect to regret the words, but I don't. All he ever did was antagonize me, from the first day we were all that was left of our family. I was one of his men, an employee. I was never his nephew.

He squares his shoulders and crosses his arms. I feel so fucking small in this bed with him looming over me like this. He looks at Keith who nods—he fucking nods, as if he's giving permission—at him, making me even more furious.

“I was protecting you.”

He holds my gaze, and the sincerity in his eyes catches me off guard. But protecting me from what? I open my mouth to ask him, but Keith interrupts me.

“Okay, we can talk about all of this later. There are things you need to know, Devon, but for now, we need to know everything you remember about the other night.”

The other night? “How long was I out for?”

“Two days,” my uncle says.

Two days. I'm not an idiot. I've figured it out by now that Leighton didn't make it back. And I've been out for two fucking days while she's God knows where. But I remember nothing. I shake my head to clear it, but it doesn't help. It only makes the pounding headache worse. My hand flies to my eyes, pressing them.