Deal • REWRITE • BOOK 1

1; Wicked Games

"With all due fücking respect Lucien, you don't have a choice,"

L U C I E N

"Staying here isn't going to help anything."

I snorted, my brother's words a passing thought as I stared at my dad whilst inhaling that fücking putrid smell all hospitals seemed to have.

"Your unwanted opinions aren't going to help anything either, so I suggest you shut your mouth before I do it for you," I quipped back easily and unaffected whilst sitting up straight, my hands gripping tight onto the roll of papers in my hands.

I heard Alex sigh, a sign of instant defeat which made me roll my eyes whilst he pulled up another chair and sat on the opposite side of my dad's bed.

It had been twelve days since he'd been hanging onto the thin line between life and death after returning from Sicily, two bullets piercing through his lungs in an instant attack that was suspected to be played out by the Lorento's.

I liked to call them sanguisuga in Italian.

Leeches...living off of you to sustain their life until they were fulfilled and got what they wanted.

If I had it my way, I'd let my trigger happy habit live to its fullest potential, killing each and every one of them until I'd made my point and was simply satisfied.

The thought always plagued my mind even though it was prohibited, the rules that shaped the lifestyle that I was in set in fücking stone, only been altered when the boss himself said so.

The reminder of hierarchy in the life I lived made me inhale a sharp breath, my thumb swiping against my lower lip before I leaned back into the chair I was in and tilted my head whilst silence consumed me.

I stared at the faint rise in my dad's chest, focusing on the puff of slight air that made him inhale and exhale manually. It made my fingers twitch, my vision settling on the plastic tubing that fed down his throat and pumped oxygen, allowing his lungs to heal on their own whilst the rest of his body regenerated lost muscle and strength.

Ironically it made me want to strangle others, my hands gripping against my knees as I imagined the precious breath of life caught behind my fingers as they pressed into the throat of the one responsible.

I could feel it. The struggle. The loss of blood. The life that I would fücking take without caring about-

"Whatever you're thinking Lucien, don't," Alex warned, pulling me out of my violent thoughts until I met his warning gaze with my glare. "You'll get yourself killed and I'm not in the fücking mood to be the only one left in this dámn family."

At his words I altered my gaze, an unspoken argument waiting to happen as the tension between us grew and my fingertips traced the uneven burnt skin of my right forearm. We stayed in silence as I did, my chest heavy and pulling in more weight when the doctor walked into the room and flipped a few pages on my dad's chart, the look on his face enough to set me off just as he went to speak.

"I don't want to hear it," I spoke, my fingertips crinkling the paper roll in my hand steadily until jagged lines marked it.

"Sir, as a professional I have to provide sufficient-"

"If you want to keep your fücking life I suggest you shut the fück up unless it's something about my father progressing," I told him, standing to my full height and stepping towards him when he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Lucien, sit the fück back-"

"I will rip your fücking tongue out and make you swallow it," I whispered, ignoring Alex and feeding off of the way the scrawny doctor in front of me visibly cowered under my gaze as I stayed a short breath away from him. "Understand?"