Blame it on the shame Part 3

Especially given their days are limited and they're on both Travine's and the council's radar.

I feel like I'm stuck in the same toxic position that I was with DeLuca. Round and round we fucking go. Only now that I'm finally in a position to stop it...I still can't.

But it won't stop me from trying...because I won't lose them.

“Ricardo,” Lou-Lou whispers, reaching for my hand.

I grab her by the shoulders. “What part of shut the fuck up don't you understand?”

Hurt splashes all over her face and I feel like the biggest dick in the world, but fuck it, maybe it's better that way.

I'll keep her under my roof, keep her protected, and keep my dick in my pants.

Hell, maybe if I wasn't so focused on getting in her pants, I'd have figured out a solution to all this by now and not fucking everything up.

I search my brain, trying to come up with something, anything that won't end in their deaths, but I come up empty.

When we get back to the mansion, I immediately order Lou-Lou back to her room, which earns me a hard slap across the cheek in front of my men and a curt look from Marlene.

I go to my office, slam the door behind me, and open my laptop— desperate to confirm news that I already know.

Just like I suspected, the media is all over it...and everyone and their mother suspect foul play.

The mayor and his predecessor don't die 24 hours apart from one another without people thinking some shit is going down.

I slam my fist on the desk. Not only did I tell Jackson and Tyrone that I didn't suspect anything fishy regarding the mayor's death. I told them I would keep them in the loop and handle it.

I rip open a few buttons on my shirt, because it's suddenly becoming hard to breathe. I feel like a pussy for caring so much about two men...but I can't help it.

I love them...and I don't know if that makes me more angry at the council or at myself for caring about those two fuckers in the first place.

I pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels and pour myself a drink, letting the liquid burn down my throat.

This is the begi

It finally makes sense now why my father never gave a shit about anyone.

Why let anyone in? Why allow yourself to care when it will only put a target on those people's backs and their deaths will rest on your conscience for eternity?

What little of those we have.

I finish my drink and pour myself another. “What would your fatherly advice be, DeLuca?” I ask the empty room. “Come on, Babbo. You were the king of diabolical...how do you end up the last man standing?”

I snort and slap the desk, because he didn't...the most evil and heartless man still lost his battle.

Because you can't win a battle you've already lost.

And right now I know he's laughing at me through the flames surrounding him in hell. I also know damn well what his advice to his only son would be—Kill them.

And for the first time...I think I understand why the DeLuca's end up the way they do.

We weren't born evil...we become it.

We're turned into these made men by the DeLuca Mafia.

We're created the second we realize that we can't save the people we care about...so we might as well kill them.

Because no matter which way you look at it...the people we love are fucked. There's only one way out of this life for them.

Blood only goes out...never in.

It's a perfect storm that the DeLuca's are born from...a storm filled with pain, rage, suffering, and hate. The reckoning of our sins and the lives that we're inherently responsible for ruining raining down on us from under a cloud of shame.

And no matter how much blood we spill...no matter how many times we take a life to try and drown it out...it's always there.

Because the blood doesn't wash all the shame away...nothing does.

Shame is a stain that never comes clean.

Not until you bury it so deep in the dark, it no longer exists.

And you don't feel anything anymore.

I slam my drink down and lean back in my chair. I have to find a way to stop this because I won't have their coffins gnawing on my conscience...but right now?

Right now I need something to drown out the noise, something to make me forget for a little while.

Right now I need to get shitfaced, kill something, or fuck something.

Hell, all three sound like a great idea.