279

279
Alaric’s POV
Alonso leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out like we were having a casual conversation instead of a standoff. His gun was still within reach, but he hadn’t gone for it. Neither had I.
Not yet.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he noted. “Did I hit a nerve?”
I scoffed, keeping my gun trained on him. “You haven’t said anything worth responding to.”
He smirked. “Maybe I should.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely. His demeanor had shifted slightly-not cocky, not smug. Something else. Something that made my instincts sharpen.
Alonso exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the table. “You think you know everything about why our families hate each other. But you don’t, Alaric.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You killed my brother. That’s all I need to know.”
He shook his head. “That was an accident.”
I stiffened. “Bullshit.”
His eyes darkened. “You think I wanted Dominic dead? You think I went out that night planning for this to happen?”
I said nothing, but my grip on the gun tightened.
Alonso sighed. “It was a car crash, Alaric. I was driving. He was driving. We collided. I lived. He didn’t. End of story.”
I scoffed. “That’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
His jaw clenched. “You don’t believe me? Fine. But there’s something else you should believe. Something that goes back further than Dominic. Further than you. Further than us.”
I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He studied me for a long moment before he said it.
“Jonas.”
My stomach twisted. “What about my father?”
Alonso’s voice turned cold. “Your father is the reason this war started in the first place.”
I glared at him. “You’re blaming a man who’s been dead for years?”
Alonso’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
I shook my head. “I’m not interested in whatever bullshit story you’ve got planned, Alonso.”
“You should be.” His voice was sharper now. “Because your father raped and murdered my wife.”
The room went silent.
The words landed like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.
I refused to.
“You’re lying,” I said, my voice even.
Alonso let out a hollow laugh. “Of course that’s your first reaction. But I’m not lying, Alaric. I wish I was.”
I shook my head again, but this time, the certainty wasn’t as strong.
“You want to blame Jonas for your problems? Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t rewrite history. He wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t a monster.”
Alonso’s expression twisted. “Wasn’t a monster?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Wasn’t a monster?”
I lifted my chin. “That’s what I said.”
His entire body tensed, like he was fighting the urge to lunge across the table.
“Your father,” he said, voice like steel, “was a sick, sadistic bastard who thought he could take whatever he wanted. And he took her. He took everything from me.”
I forced a breath through my nose, my fingers itching on the trigger. “You expect me to just believe this?”
Alonso’s eyes burned with something raw. “Yes.”
I swallowed hard because he meant it.
He wasn’t just saying it to get under my skin, he believed it.
I shook my head, trying to push past the weight settling in my chest. “You’re saying my father personally killed your wife?”
Alonso let out a bitter laugh. “Personally? No.” His gaze darkened. “But he ordered it. He was there when it happened. And he did nothing to stop it.”
A strange, sickening feeling crawled up my spine.
“Why?” I asked, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.
Alonso’s jaw clenched. “Because she fought back.”
I exhaled sharply, my grip on the gun faltering for the first time.
“Your father,” Alonso continued, his voice low, “was a man who took. And when someone told him no, he destroyed them for it.”
My throat felt tight.
“I loved her,” Alonso murmured, staring past me now, like he was seeing something long buried. “She was everything. And he took her away like she was nothing.”
I swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”
Alonso let out another hollow laugh. “Tell who, Alaric? Your father was powerful. Untouchable. No one would’ve dared to go against him. And even if they had, it wouldn’t have brought her back.”
I clenched my fists.
“I swore,” Alonso said quietly, “that I’d make him pay. But then you took care of that for me, didn’t you?”
I looked up sharply.
Alonso smirked. “Oh, don’t play dumb. We both know who really put your father in the ground.”
I didn’t respond because we did both know.
Alonso shook his head. “Imagine that. The son avenging the sins of the father without even knowing it.”
My stomach twisted again, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
“So you hated him,” I said after a long pause. “Fine. But what does that have to do with Dominic?”
Alonso’s expression darkened. “It was a life for a life.”
A cold chill went through me. “So you did kill him on purpose.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “I did not kill your brother.”
“But you wanted to.”
He didn’t answer.
And that was enough.
I clenched my jaw. “Say it.”
Alonso’s lips pressed together. “I wanted him to suffer. I wanted your family to feel the pain I felt. But I didn’t kill him, Alaric.”
I exhaled sharply, my mind spinning.
“Your father was a monster,” Alonso murmured. “And now you have to decide if you’re going to follow in his footsteps.”
I glared at him. “You think you’re the hero in this story?”
He smirked. “No. But I know damn well you’re not either.”
We stared at each other, the tension crackling like a live wire between us.
I hated him.
I hated that his words had planted something in my mind that I couldn’t shake.
I hated that part of me-a very small part-wondered if he was telling the truth.
And I hated that another part of me didn’t care.
Because Dominic was still dead.
And Alonso was still breathing. And right now, that was the only thing that mattered.
I clenched my jaw, staring Alonso down, gun still in my hand.
“You really expect me to believe that?” I scoffed, my voice low and sharp. “That my father-MY FATHER-was the monster in all of this?”
Alonso leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “I don’t expect anything from you, Alaric. You’ve been spoon-fed lies your entire life. I’m just here to tell you the truth.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Your truth?”
Alonso tilted his head. “No. The truth.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re trying to justify yourself. Trying to make me feel guilty. Trying to make Dominic’s death seem like some tragic accident-”
“It was!” Alonso snapped. “You think I wanted that to happen? You think I would’ve risked my own life just to kill your brother? That’s not how it happened.”
“You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?” I shot back. “That’s rich, coming from a man who hates my family!”
Alonso’s eyes darkened. “I hated your father, Alaric. Not Dominic. Not you. Him.”
I exhaled harshly, gripping my gun tighter. Why now?” I demanded. “Why tell me this now?”
“Because you came here to kill me,” he said simply. “And I figured you should know the real reason why.”
I scoffed. “I came here because you took Dominic from me.”
Alonso shook his head. “No. You came here because you need someone to blame.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“You can’t stand the thought that your father-the man you were raised to respect-was worser than the enemies you’ve spent your life fighting,” Alonso continued. “So instead, you direct all that rage at me. Because it’s easier.”
“Shut up.” My voice was low, dangerous.
“You think you’re any different from him?” Alonso taunted. “You’re standing here, gun in hand, ready to pull the trigger without thinking twice. Just like he would have.”
I stepped forward, my patience snapping. “You don’t know shit about me.”
Alonso smirked. “Oh, but I do. You were raised to believe that power means control, that fear means respect. You are exactly what your father made you.”
I gritted my teeth. “I am nothing like him.”
“Then prove it,” he said, his voice sharp. “Put the gun down.”
I didn’t move.
Alonso exhaled, shaking his head. “See? You can’t. Because deep down, you’re just like him.”
“Say that again,” I growled, stepping closer.
He didn’t back down. “You’re. Just. Like. Him.”
I pressed the barrel of my gun against his forehead. “You’re walking on thin ice, Alonso.”
Alonso just stared at me, completely unbothered. “Go ahead,” he said. “Pull the trigger. End it. Do what your father would have done.”
I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. My finger twitched over the trigger.
“You think this makes you strong?” Alonso continued. “It doesn’t. It just makes you him.”
I exhaled through my nose. Every part of me wanted to shoot him. To end this. But something held me back. Something I couldn’t name, and Alonso saw it.
“You hesitate because you know I’m right,” he murmured.
I clenched my jaw. “I hesitate because you’re not worth the bullet.”
Alonso smirked. “Now that’s a lie.”
I took a step back, lowering the gun-just an inch.
But Alonso wasn’t done.
“You can kill me if you want,” he said. “But it won’t bring Dominic back. And it won’t make you feel any better.”
I glared at him. “Shut up.”
“It won’t make Emilia look at you any differently,” he pressed. “Won’t make her love you more. Won’t make her stay.”
My stomach twisted. “Shut up .”
“She’ll see you for what you really are,” Alonso said, voice lower now. ” A man so consumed by revenge, he lost himself in the process .”
I lunged, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him back against the wall.
“You don’t know shit about Emilia,” I snarled.
Alonso just looked at me. “I know she’s already slipping through your fingers .”
I froze.
Alonso smirked, knowing he’d hit a nerve. “She’ll leave, Alaric. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, she’ll look at you and realize she doesn’t recognize the man standing in front of her.”
My breathing was heavy. My hands shook with the urge to break something.
“She loves me,” I said, my voice quieter now.
Alonso tilted his head. “Are you sure about that?”
I said nothing.
Because doubt was already creeping in.
And I fucking hated that he could see it.
“You think she’ll love you after this?” Alonso pushed. “After she finds out you came here to kill me?”
“She won’t find out,” I bit out.
Alonso laughed under his breath. “You sure about that? Because I’d bet my life she’s already on her way.”
My stomach turned.
I pulled back slightly, hands still gripping his shirt.
He was wrong.
Emilia wasn’t coming.
She wouldn’t, Would she?
I forced myself to shake the thought away, shoving him back roughly before stepping away. And that was where I made my mistake, because he picked up his gun so fast that I could barely process the movement and pointed it to me.