I cursed; I clearly didn’t have the gift of timing. My father waved his hand as a signal for his second & fourth in command to restrain me from rushing in. I struggled.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“I’ll deal with you in a few minutes.” He turned with a sickening smirk on his face towards my cousins & their tattered accomplice. “Now,” he began, addressing the three, “which of you will go first?” He motioned to a guard outside, who scurried in with a syringe. “I’m in no real hurry, but I would like to move along.”
My eyes widened in realization. “You… you can’t!” I stuttered. “They’re family! You can’t just…!”
“Silence!” he boomed. “First of all, you will not give me orders. Second, these two are traitors and a blemish to our cause. I have not considered them family nor will I in the near or far future. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
In those words, I lost all respect for my father. Enemies or not, “traitors” or not, family was family.
I held that close.
It was apparent my father didn’t.