I clench my fists, imagining myself smashing into that brick wall repetitively, only to find the bricks have crumbled, leaving behind them solid iron. An impenetrable wall surrounding me, crushing in on me.
“I didn’t try to stop you,” he shrugs. “I did tell Tragen, but he clearly didn’t give a shit. So why should I?” He lets out a dark laugh. “Crazy to think that all this time, Moretti’s last descendant was fucking my own son, and I never knew.”
“What’s it to you?” I growl. “What’s Moretti to you?”
“Nothing much.” Dad shrugs yet again. “Only I’m not a fucking idiot. Unlike you. There’s no such thing as a dead man as long as he’s still got followers and enemies. Devil was built on a foundation of destruction. That’s not the kind of foundation that lasts.”
I sink back even further in my seat, my entire body aching with my need for Piper.
“It was only a matter of time before the cracks in the foundation came back to haunt Devil,” continues Dad. “Then the shit hit the fan with Angel. A rival gang, quickly rising in strength, representing a threat to the girl Damien’s got a stupid schoolgirl crush on. What better distraction? Especially now that she’s gone. People are saying he’s quit Devil for good. Without him, Devil is nothing. I knew the Moretti followers and Miguel Coltello would pounce on that moment to start building their armies. Renewing old alliances, forming new ones.”
“Devil isn’t the mafia,” I groan, rubbing my sore eyes. I don’t even know why he’s talking. I don’t give a shit about any of this.
“Devil was builtoffthe mafia. They owe everything to theMorettis.”
“They’re not Italian,” I object.
Dad clicks his tongue. “They’re not made men, sure. That doesn’t mean they didn’t work for the mafia. They just didn’t get any of the privileges. They couldn’t hope to become leaders one day. And they were bloodthirsty for power.”
Not as bloodthirsty as you are.“Bet they wouldn’t betray their own kids for power,” I say bitterly.
Dad scoffs. “What do you call handing over the child you’ve raised to some random stranger? I guess you think Logan Colt can do no wrong. So why the fuck did he pawn off his own stepdaughter?”
“He… he didn’tpawn… he was trying to protect her…”
“Bullshit. He was trying to protect Devil. He was trying to protect Damien. The only person he’s ever cared about. Nothing else matters but Damien. Sure, he’s doing his very best for her, but if push came to shove and Damien ordered it, he’d put a bullet in that girl’s head.”
I close my eyes, feeling sick at the thought that the one ally I’d counted on is even weaker than I am.
Then I notice that Josh’s stirring in the backseat has gotten just a little more pronounced. One glance in the rearview window tells me he’s awake, and faking it. I’m not sure playing dead will get him out of this. But I’m relieved—and confused to realize just how relieved I am—that he’s not too injured.
“Logandoescare some, though,” continues my dad, still so smugly caught up in his own story that he doesn’t notice the movement in the backseat. “He cares enough that it caught my attention, and I’ve been watching him for months. I guess he realized Coltello and Moretti’s men represented a rising threat, and he went out of his way to keep Damien in the dark. Why do you think that, huh?”
“I literally don’t give a fuck,” I growl.
But my dad doesn’t let my lack of enthusiasm put a damper on his. I’ve never seen him so fucking happy. Like he’s just won the lottery or something.
“Well, I started to wonder why Logan was exerting himself so much to keep Damien from realizing what was going on. Not that it was hard. I’ve never known Damien to be an idiot, but ever since Seraphina Connor came into his life, he’s turned into a hormonal pre-teen mess. You should have seen him back in the mafia days. Everyone in town knew Damien Wells. He had an aura. He was everywhere, knew everything. The mere mention of his name made people piss their pants. Now he’s literally falling to pieces over a girl. Fucking pathetic, huh?”
I shrug, because ifthat’spathetic, I don’t even want to know what Dad would call me.
“Anyway, it got me wondering why. Why does Logan care so fucking much about Damiennotfinding out about the mafia threat? Shouldn’t it be the opposite? Shouldn’t he realize that keeping that information from him would give the mafia time to get stronger? What the fuck is his game? That’s when I started to put two and two together. I gave the soldiers a few contracts. No one would think twice about it. The Devil founders would certainly not look into it. Don’t think they’ve directly given out a contract in their lives.”
I turn my head slowly, my temples throbbing. “What… what the fuck do you mean?”
“The shit they handle directly, they pay subcontractors to do. Subcontractors like Angel, thoughthatwas an error in judgment. That’s a different matter, though. Quill, you once told me soldiers were nothing more than toilet scrubbers. And you were right.”
I blink in confusion.
“It’s housekeeping,” continues Dad. “That’s what it is. The founders trust the rest of us to keep shit moving. Keep littlemesses from turning into slightly bigger messes. They don’t even know who their soldiers are killing, or why. They don’t care. It’s the giants, looking down on the anthill. Who fucking cares?”
“So why didyoucare?” I hiss out. “Why did it matter so much toyouthat I become a soldier? That I kill people for a living? Why did you force your son into that path?”
“It allowed me to get closer to Tragen,” says Dad smoothly. “To understand the inner workings of the soldiers. To hand out untraceable contracts. Initially, none of it was about Logan or the girl. It was about power. The Soldier Army deserved a lot better than being put to use as glorified toilet scrubbers. If the Devil Founders weren’t going to be using them to their full potential, then I would. And I did. Which becameespeciallyuseful a few months ago.”
I frown at him, confusion getting the better of my seething anger.
“That was when I noticed the shift with Logan. I needed to understand why he cared so much,” explains Dad. “What better way to do that than to have a few soldiers stick guns into judges’ and lawyers’ faces, getting the answers I needed, before killing them?”