Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
"Stop it."
"Make me," Xander challenges.
I try to rip free, but the ropes are too tight. I can't move, no matter how hard I try. And that just makes me angrier.
"I'm going to fucking kill you," I hiss.
"Good luck with that," he laughs. "But for now, we have a lot more time to spend together, hermano. I want you to know how much your brother hates you."
"I can feel the love," I sneer. "I hate you too."
"Not as much as I hate myself," Xander adds. "For trusting you."
"Well, that's not my fault."
"No," he sighs. "You're right. It's mine. I'm a fool, hermano. A blind, fucking idiot."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Wouldn't you? You took my place," he hisses.
"I was born first. They would have taken me anyway. That's the rules."
"They were going to make me king," he roars. "But then you happened. You were always so fucking jealous. Are you jealous now?"
Suddenly, he starts walking down the grand staircase in the front hall. My eyes are glued to him as he emerges from the shadows step by step. The light reveals more and more of his familiar features, but when he finally reaches me, I gasp.
It's like looking in a mirror. A broken one.
"Xander," I gasp.
"Brother," he says.
"I'm... sorry."
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Xander sneers.
"You were supposed to be king," I say.
"Yes," Xander nods. "I was. I will be. Once you're dead."
He kneels on the tile next to me, his face dangerously close. I can feel his breath on my cheek, and it's almost calming. I can't tear my eyes off his face, the familiar features of the brother I loved once.
"I can't forgive you," he hisses.
"Don't," I manage. "You shouldn't."
"No," he nods. "You're right."
"Do what you need to do, hermano," I add.
"Oh, don't worry. I will."
He raises his hands to my face and strokes the wounds. It feels strangely good, and when his thumb moves closer and closer to the wound over my eye, I can't help but lean into his touch.
"Please," I mutter. "Do it."
"Gladly," he says, before ripping his thumb into the open wound.
The pain is searing hot, but the morphine is still coursing through my veins. It's a different kind of pain, a familiar kind.
"Fuck," I manage as blood pours down my face.
"Hush, brother," Xander soothes.
"Kill me," I groan.
"No," he whispers.
"Why not?"
"Because then it would be over," he smiles. "We have a lot left to do, Xavier. Just you and me."
He pulls his finger free and wipes it on my shirt with a serene smile.
Suddenly, the front door flies open and my groans of pain die on my lips.
"No, Santiago!" a panicked voice cries as I focus my gaze on the pre-teen on the doorstep. "Come back here!"
The boy's backpack drops to the ground as he stares at my brother.
"Papa?" he asks. "What's going on?"