Maria (The Family Book 4)

by Angelique Jones

  His fingers had barely touched her hand before she removed them to push herself up. Unchecked, tears fell freely from her eyes with each movement. Knowing that his touch would just make it worse, Nero stared at her uselessly. He always felt useless. He was too small to stop his father, who forced him and his older brother, Enzo, to watch when he hurt their mother sometimes. He called them “lessons about how to teach a woman her place.” At first, Nero tried to stop his father. He would throw his body on his father’s, but when his father turned his anger on him, it forced his mother to throw her already-damaged body over his to protect him. She made Nero promise not to try and help her, but he kept breaking that promise, unable to watch his father hurt her—until the last time. His father had been so angry at his interference that he’d held a gun to his mother’s head and told him that if he ever did it again, he’d make sure that she’d never get up. Terrified that his father would take away the only thing he loved, Nero stood like a coward now, blankly watching whenever his father hurt her.

  Nero moved to sit outside the bathroom door. He drew his knees up to his chest. His mother had dragged herself in there to clean away the blood from his father’s latest rage. Unseeing, Nero looked straight ahead.

  Why does he hurt us? Why does he hate us? Well, me and Mommy.

  Enzo his father adored. Even at age eight, Enzo was already becoming just like their father. Enzo enjoyed causing pain in others. It wasn’t just his mother their father beat—he had others. Sometimes his father would bring home women and do very bad things to them while the boys were forced to watch. Each time, Nero felt sick and looked away while Enzo would egg their father on, yelling out ways to hurt her.

  His mother had told him that Enzo was sick like his father, and that Nero was never to trust him. She said that Enzo would always betray them because he wasn’t her son, even though she had given him life. No, Enzo was his father’s son—sick and twisted in the head. Trusting her, Nero tried to stay away from Enzo, but he would always seek Nero out. Sometimes just to tease him or hit him, but other times he thought that Enzo really wanted to kill him. Nero had been lucky those times, because either their mother or one of the men that were constantly in the house would interrupt Enzo before he could finish. Nero knew that Enzo did it because their mother saw through the act that he put on, even though no one else did. Everyone that met Enzo was charmed by him. Only their mother and Nero knew the truth. Only they knew that Enzo was just as sick as his father. Nero thought that Enzo did it because their mother loved him and he wanted to hurt her for it.

  This was one of the reasons that Nero was never far from the babies. Enzo hated the babies because their mother loved them too. One time, Nero had found him near the crib, holding a pillow over their little faces. Enzo laughed at their struggling little fists that tried to fight him. Knocking him from the crib, Nero had fought him knowing that he was too small to beat him. Their father had walked in just as Enzo was breaking his nose. He laughed, telling Enzo to toughen him up. Nero took the beating, knowing that if he told his father that he was stopping Enzo from hurting the babies he wouldn’t care—their mother had gotten one of the worst beatings ever for giving him girls instead of boys. Finally, after it felt like there wasn’t a spot on him that hadn’t been hit, Enzo had gotten up and joined their father. Smacking Enzo on the back, his father steered Enzo out of the room, laughing as Nero lay on the floor, bleeding.

  Chapter 1

  Nero, age fourteen

  Standing over his father’s casket, Nero couldn’t help but feel satisfaction. His father had gotten what was coming to him—Nero was just disappointed that he hadn’t been the one to deliver the fatal blow. His brother, Enzo, stood on the other side of the casket, lost in a dream world. Enzo had been like that since he’d brought back their father’s body. Nero knew damn well that Enzo didn’t give a shit that the old bastard was dead. It was something else. Nero thought back to the day they had left. It had seemed like any other trip.

  “Adriana, get your fuckin’ ass in here,” his father yelled.

  Like a zombie, his mother rose from her chair. She set aside her book and mumbled for Enzo to watch the girls. Wanting to follow her but knowing that he couldn’t leave the twins alone with Enzo in the house, Nero moved to the doorway so he could hear what was going on in the room across the hall. His mother entered their father’s study, leaving the door open. His mother wasn’t stupid—she knew better than to close herself off in a room with that madman if she could help it. More than once an open door had saved her life, allowing her to flee until his anger cooled.

  “Stupid fucking cow. When I say ‘come,’ you move your ass.”

  “Yes, Julius,” she replied in a monotone voice, knowing better than to talk back.

  Unappeased, he spat out, “Why the fuck I ever married you, I’ll never know.” She knew better than to answer him, so she waited in silence. She didn’t have to wait long. “I have business to attend to and will be taking Enzo with me. I’ll be gone for the next few days, so I want you and your worthless offspring to remain in the house. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Julius,” she replied, trying to keep the relief that she felt out of her voice. It didn’t work.

  “Yes, Julius. Yes, Julius.” He mimicked her, then threw an astray at her that shattered on the wall. “You worthless piece of shit. What the fuck do you do while I’m gone?”

  “Nothing, Julius,” she said, trying to hold back her terror at their father’s rapidly declining mood.

  “I just bet it’s nothing. Who have you been fucking, Adriana? That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve been sneaking your lover in my house when I’m not here.”

  “No, Julius, I swear,” she started to say, but her words were cut off by the sound of fist hitting flesh. The blow sent her slamming into the ground.

  “Of course you have. You’ve probably been doing it for years. It would explain that little fuck, Nero. That little piece of shit is nothing like me,” he screamed, kicking her hard enough that she flew into full view in the doorway.

  “Always knew you weren’t one of us,” Enzo said, smirking and coming out of nowhere to prop himself against the doorjamb to watch the show. Nero glued his eyes to his mother, tried to drown out Enzo’s words, but he couldn’t. “I wonder if he’ll kill her this time. I really hope he does—then I can finally get rid of you and those squalling brats.”

  “Why don’t you go to hell, Enzo, and leave me alone? Better yet, why don’t you go and collect him so you can get to wherever it is you’re going?” Nero growled as his mother’s begging grew louder.

  “You know, you’re right. I’ll go get Dad and save Mommy Dearest for now.” Turning to look at Enzo, wondering if he was serious, Nero saw a smirk. “Not because I care whether she lives or not, but because if Dad kills her we’ll have to cancel the trip so he can hide her body.”

  Pushing himself off the wall, Enzo walked into the study unafraid. He had no reason to fear—their father never touched his pride and joy. “Father, we have to get going or we’re going to be late,” Enzo called out lazily.

  Jerking his head up, their father looked at his prodigy. “Enzo, my son. Is it that time already? Time got away from me,” he laughed, giving their mother one more kick before following the little sociopath from the room. Upon seeing Nero in the hall, the smile faded from his face and he narrowed his eyes. “Go clean your fucking mother up and tell her we’ll finish this conversation when I get home.” Hesitant to leave the twins, Nero didn’t move quickly enough. A rough hand dug into his scalp, grabbing his hair before throwing him into the wall next to the door that led to his mother. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. You worthless piece of shit—lazy, like that whore,” his father snarled before he and a grinning Enzo walked away.

  Pulling himself up, Nero went to his mother. She was already getting to her feet. “I’m all right,” she lied. Nero squeezed his fists, unable to look at her. “Nero…”

  “No, Mom. If we stay, he’l
l kill you. We need to get away.”

  “Nero, go in with the girls. I’ll be there in a minute,” she whispered, defeat heavy in her voice.

  “Mom—” Nero implored, but was cut off.

  “Enough, Nero!” she snapped before taking a calming breath. Reaching out, his mother placed a hand on his shoulder. “Even if we made it past the guards, your father would hunt us down and kill us all. I won’t risk you or the twins. We have nowhere to go. My parents are dead and no family head is going to get in the middle of what a husband does to his wife. I’m your father’s property, in their eyes.”

  “It’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not. The fact that you recognize that makes you ten times a better man than any of them. One day, you will be the head of this family, and I want you to remember that whether it is a wife, daughter, or sister, no woman deserves what’s been done to me. Now go and stay with the twins. They’re not safe until we can be sure Enzo and your father are gone.” Letting go of his shoulder, his mother hobbled past him and out the door.

  Two days later, word came of his father’s death. His mother had been weeping ever since. Nero knew that the people who came to pay their respects thought that it was out of grief, but he knew the truth. She never thought she would be free of him—her tears were tears of joy.

  When the priest said “and I commend his soul to heaven,” Nero was pulled back into the present. His father was going somewhere, and heaven wasn’t it. Even at his age, Nero felt certain of that. They said that it had been an accidental death, but he didn’t believe it. Whoever had finished the old bastard off had his thanks. Nero just wished he knew who did it. There were a lot of funerals happening this week, in many families, and no one was talking about why. Nero knew that Enzo knew the truth, but he also knew that, no matter what, Enzo wouldn’t tell unless he wanted to.

  Tightening his hands on the girls, Nero brought them forward so they could place the flowers in their little hands on the casket. He wanted to spit on it, but his mother had explained that they needed to play a part. Play his part he would.