Page 137 of Vicious Kingdom

I shot the enforcer a look. “You’d go to such trouble?”

“For the donna? Yes.”

The reverence in the way he used that title was obvious. The women in the famiglia touched more than my brother’s and my life. We would defend them, support them, and cherish them until our last breaths. It was what good men did.

Chapter 48 – Annaliese

Death was an exquisite performance art. The black-clad mourners moved like shadow puppets against the church’s amphitheater backdrop, their grief a choreographed dance of handkerchiefs and hushed condolences. Death also had a way of revealing what a person truly was, once they no longerare.

I stood motionless at the front row of stadium seating, dry-eyed as the pastor celebrated the life of my father. The man speaking barely knew Alfred Hertz, yet here he was, painting him as a pillar of the community, a devoted family man, a shining example of entrepreneurial spirit and moral fortitude.

“Alfred gave generously to those in need,” the pastor intoned, his voice echoing through the cavernous room. The guitarist played softly in the background, an upbeat undertone that made the sorrowful eulogy seem brighter. “His legacy will live on through his charitable works and, of course, through his beloved family.”

Leo’s hand tightened around mine. Thank the gods above and devils below that he was here. There was no way I would get through this charade without his glowering presence. He scaredoff the majority of curious onlookers and braced me to face those more bold.

“I can’t stand it any longer,” I whispered into his ear. “I have to use the bathroom so badly!”

His lip twitched, but he gave me a nod.

I made to move, but my mother shot out her hand. “You can’t leave.”

“I’ll be right back!” I hissed, avoiding her grip.

She glared at me, not disguising her anger and disappointment.

Scooting past my mother, who was wild with grief that her part in this play demanded, I hurried up the center aisle, keeping my face bent so no one saw that I wasn’t crying.

I couldn’t muster a single tear for the man who sired me.

For myself? For my lost youth, and the future where Dad wouldn’t see me shine? That I wept buckets for in the privacy of my room, despite Penelope and her tequila shots.

Today, I felt nothing. Not the expected grief, not even anger that had been my constant companion growing up. Just…nothing. A vast emptiness where emotion should be.

“That isn’t true,” I muttered to the stall door.

Bunching toilet tissue in my hand, I reexamined my mind. I felt…happiness.

It was wrong to admit it. But so what? I was safe. I had a man who adored me, a glittering career, and a new family who embraced me.

Flushing, I emerged to wash my hands.

And came face to face with the Tormentor.

There was nowhere to back up, nowhere to hide. He’d surprised me, and I hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Go away,” I warned.

“Don’t you see, Pookie, you can be mine now! Your father won’t object,” he hissed.

Like the damn serpent he was.

“My mother will never approve of you—and I doubt your father will let you take me,” I countered, striking his ego with my words.

“Then I’ll kill them too.”

Wrath, terrible and consuming, boiled through me. “That was you. You robbed me of the chance to make my father proud!”

His putrid eyes narrowed. “He was never going to see you, Pookie. I was the only one who saw what a cute little cub you are.”