The Assassin's Blood: The Confradia Assassins 3

Chapter 4: The past is gone

Santana

Why is it that when someone dies, you can forgive their most grievous sins? However, you retain your anger when they are alive and let it fester until it almost swallows you whole. I look at my stepbrother Connor, who is swallowed by his oversized sports jacket. His shoulders are slumped as he gazes down at the two caskets being lowered to the ground. He looks so young and desolate, trying to look grown-up. But he’s just a boy. Sadness overwhelms me when I see his trembling shoulders and tear-stained face. He’s only sixteen and has known only pain throughout his short life. I’ve tried to protect him, but it has been a difficult task.

Now our parents are dead, and all I feel is a relief. What am I going to do with a sixteen-year-old boy? I think to myself. I’m only twenty-one years old. Don’t get me wrong, Connor and I have had it harder than most. Our parents were a train wreck from the moment they met. It was seventeen years ago when Alva Castro and Alistair Archer met at Rainbow Springs Drug Rehab Center. They forged a relationship based on their mutual love of cocaine and alcohol. I was five years old when Alva met Alistair. Alva was my father’s second wife. My mother died of a brain aneurysm when I was a baby. Then he met Alva and married her. They were together for three years before my father died of a heart attack, and Alva inherited all of his money and a child that she didn’t want.

To Alva’s disappointment, my father’s will stated that she would only get his money as long as she cared for me or until I was deemed an adult. Unfortunately, my father trusted her too much and did not establish a separate trust for me in his will. Being the money-hungry leech that she was, Alva took all of the money and lived the life of a queen. She’d travel, buy expensive jewelry, clothing, anything she could get her hands on. I’d be left behind to fend for myself. Regrettably, she also had expensive vices and became addicted to illegal substances. She’d disappear for months without any communication until, eventually, the money began to dwindle. At that point, she decided to enter a rehab facility and get clean.

That’s where she met Alistair. He was handsome, charismatic, and Alva fell in lust at first sight. They were married within two months of their meeting.

For the first couple of months, Alva and Alistair maintained the façade of a happy couple. For a while, I think they even believed it. I, on the other hand, was able to see past Alistair’s beautiful blue eyes, six-foot frame, and pitch-black hair to the darkness inside his soul. Eventually, Alva became pregnant with Connor. I remember the day she brought him home for the first time. He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. But Alva and Alistair held no interest in taking care of a new baby. Days after Connor was born, they left him and me with a nanny and carried on with their reckless lifestyle as if nothing happened.

Ultimately, Alva and Alistair ran through what was left of my father’s money. Connor was five at the time. There was no more money, so my parents decided that it was time to contribute by caring for Connor. I loved Connor so much that I took on the responsibility without question. For the next several years, I tried to protect Connor from our parent’s vices. And when the house was taken by the bank and moved to a shadier side of town, I kept up a happy front. Our situation worsened after that. Connor and I were only kept around because Alva and Alistair needed government money to keep up their ambitious lifestyle. Every month they collect government checks meant for Connor and me and used them to pay for their drugs.

I remember all of the times the cupboards and refrigerator would remain empty. Sometimes I’d hand Connor the last slice of bread and go without anything to eat. Hunger was a constant in our lives, but we survived. Alistair and Alva paid little attention to us as long as they had what they wanted.

As time passed, Connor became solemn and retreated more into himself. I didn’t know what to do. He began getting into trouble at school when he was eleven. His grades started slipping, and his mood darkened.

His teachers were at a loss, and the school was ready to kick him out. After some testing, we discovered that he had a learning disability. He suffered from anxiety and had a short attention span. Not knowing what to do, I took all of the money I saved working at the diner and bought him a cheap laptop. I hoped that it would help him focus on something other than our crappy lives. It worked. Connor was a natural with a computer. Worried that Alva and Alistair would sell his laptop to buy drugs, we hid it in a safe place.

Our life was s**t, but we still had each other, and that was enough. Alva and Alistair continued to live their drug-induced life until their vices caught up to them eventually. The police officer in charge of their case told me they were killed during a drug exchange. They were buying drugs at their drug dealer’s house when a rival group shot everyone down, and that was that.

I flashback to that night at the diner and another good-looking dark-haired man who captured my attention and close my eyes, remembering his strong body and penetrating gaze. Unfortunately, I will probably never see him again. Which depresses me and gives me relief at the same time. Even if he were interested, I wouldn’t have time for a relationship. And what would he think of me raising a teenage boy? Pushing thoughts of that night to the back of my mind, I move closer to Connor and wrap an arm around his shoulder.

His long dark hair falls around his face, and his blue eyes gleam with unshed tears beneath the fringe of his lashes. He looks so much like Alistair. Fortunately, he only inherited his father’s looks. Unlike Alistair, Connor is compassionate and selfless. To be honest, I don’t know how Connor can be related to Alva or Alistair, considering that they were two of the most selfish people I have ever met. As for me, I’m on the opposite side of the spectrum. I have light brown hair and deep brown eyes. Where Connor is tall, I’m average height and just the right kind of curvy. Unfortunately, because of my circumstance, I’ve never been in a real relationship. Hell, now that I’m the mother of a teen, I may never date again. I’m not bothered by it, though. I’d do anything for Connor.

“Ms. Castro, I’m sorry for your loss.” I snap back to the present and shake the older gentleman's hand. “Thank you, sir,” I mumble in disinterest. Another gentleman with thick gray hair steps in front of us with consoling words. I recognize him instantly. He’s Stefano Perroni, one of Alistair’s associates. This man fits the greasy mobster mold to a T. His gray hair is gelled back tightly, and his black suit is pressed. I cringe at his lascivious appraisal of my body when he extends his ring-covered hand in my direction. Taking his hand, I swallow back the bile that threatens to choke me. Mr. Perroni is seriously creepy and pervy.

His overly tanned, weathered mouth tightens when I quickly slide my hand away from his grip. I try to hide my disgust, but it’s a hard process. The man is a condescending ass. And the way he sneers at Connor makes me want to punch him in the face. “Santana, I’m sorry to hear about your parents' passing. Please accept my condolences.” I nod my head, not giving anything away. “Thank you, Mr. Perroni.” He looks at Connor then back at me, “Do you know what you’re going to do now that your parents are gone?” I look at Connor, who is giving me a hopeful look. “Connor and I are staying together. Child services feel that since we don’t have any other family, and I am of age, Connor should stay with me.” He nods his head as if he understands. “Ah…well, let me know if you need help. You’re a young girl taking adult responsibility. I’d be happy to help you and the boy.” I grit my teeth at his use of the word boy as if he doesn’t know Connor’s name.

I give him a tight smile and take a step back with Connor still in my arms. “We’re fine, Mr. Perroni. Thank you for the offer.” Having nothing else to say, Mr. Perroni smiles and moves on.

Releasing a relieved sigh, I lean close to Connor. Connor’s lip curls into a disgusted sneer. “I seriously don’t like that guy.” I chuckle in amusement at my brother’s words. “Yeah, I don’t either. Come on, we better go.” Connor nods his head as I usher him towards the bus stop. As we sit and wait for the bus, I try not to think that I’m too young for this life. It scares me, but I know that I would never let anyone take Connor away from me. That’s why I signed up to attend community college during the day while I continue to work nights at the diner. Thankfully, our building's landlord let us move into a smaller one-bedroom apartment for half the rent. It’s not the best neighborhood, but it's home.

Connor and I walk into the apartment, exhausted. There are boxes all over the place. Things that we were able to salvage from our former life. Some of them belonged to Alva and Alistair. Without a thought, I push them into the closet and close the door. I’m just not ready to open that can of worms.

Connor walks to the ratty pull-out couch and slumps down with an exhausted sigh. “Man, I’m tired. All I want to do is sleep.” I rub my hand against my forehead with an agreeable hum and look around the small box we call an apartment with an analytical gaze. “Yeah, get some rest. I’m just going to organize some things before I go to bed.”

Connor slumps back on the couch with a jaw-breaking yawn and instantly falls asleep. Striding past the couch, I walk into the bathroom. It’s small and cramped with a tiny shower, sink, and toilet, but it will do. To the left of the bathroom is an old galley kitchen with rickety cabinet doors and yellow tile that looks like it was placed there in the fifties. The rest of the place isn’t any better; there’s a small closet-sized bedroom with a twin bed and two broken dressers. The paint on the wall is a dreary dark gray made less depressing by the light coming from the front window near the couch. Time to clean our new home.