Thorns

CHAPTER EIGHT - Death sentence

Heey guys!!
I'm sorry that I haven't been updating recently. I've been moving houses and had a lot going on in school and yada yada yada. But anyway, here's chapter 8! The 9th will be up soon!

xoxo heftyX

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Death sentence

Nico looks at me, offering a lazy smile.

"Aren't you a demanding little thing"

"What? You said three questions" I act offended but fail miserably.

"Then ask" He sits up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. And just like that, all hope for a little cuddle is completely gone. I look at him for what seems like forever, trying to find the right question. Then it hits me. Something I've been wondering ever since I got here.

"Where is your mother?" I manage to whisper. Something tells me it's not a good story. Especially now that I see his features harden.

"She is dead"

"Oh... I'm sorry. How did she-"

"My father" He says before I even have time to finish the sentence.

"What?"

"My father. He killed her" His features are still set as stone, but I can tell it's bothering him.

"Why?" I ask meekly. Maybe I should give it a rest, but I can't.

"When I was six she tried to leave with me. You know, leave all this. But he found out and... yeah"

"Nico, I'm so sorry"

"It was a long time ago" He shrugs.

"Why didn't she want to leave with your brothers?" I'm guessing he meant only him.

"We don't have the same mothers. Can't you tell?". Come to think of it, they look very different. Sure, they all have some attribude from their father, but they don't look alike. At all. It seems like Giancarlo is quite the stud.

"Now that you mention it" I sit up and give him a supportive smile. He smiles back, warily, with his scar indenting. I scoot over to him, lift my hand towards his face and trace it lightly.

"How did you get this?"

"You asked your three questions" He teases, getting up from the bed. I can't tear my eyes from his perky little ass and muscular, tattooed back as he finds his boxers and puts them on.

"Come on just one more!" I whine, making him sigh and shake his head.

"It is from a fight when I was seventeen. Happy now?"

"Aren't you supposed to say 'you should see the other guy'?" I tease while he's buttoning up his shirt.

"Well, that would be a little difficult considering he's dead"

"You killed him?!"

"Yes" He answers, like it's not a big deal, then steps into his pants and zip them up.

"Why?"

"Because I had to. Because I have grown up with people killing and getting killed" He shrugs, and a small part of me understands where he's coming from. A very small part.

"You can always go your own way" I say weakly. There's a sudden change in his demeanor and his body language becomes slightly more aggressive.

"No. And who says I don't want this? I make the same money in a week that a normal person makes in a year. Even more" He says sternly.