Whereas Elena is the type of sweet that makes everyone treat her like a fragile object. She’s pretty, agreeable, and docile. Her tone’s always polite. She’s the perfect princess in every way. Everything a mafia man wants in his ideal wife.
Though she’s different now. Being kidnapped, and witnessing two deaths, changed her. Understandably. But I’m afraid that I’ll never get my twin sister back, that she’s as dead as our parents even though she walks among us.
That fear makes me feel so alone. I’ve lost everyone but my sister. I can’t lose her too.
I’m not uncaring toward our mother and father, but even as the priest says his words, I can’t summon up a single appropriate emotion to express. I struggled with the same when we lost our brother. Does that make me a bad person? Am I somehow as rotten as my brother and parents, but don’t know it?
Maybe that’s why they beat me. They could see a reflection of themselves in me and they hated it.
We’re supposed to love our parents—even if they are terrible people. We’re born with that expectation ingrained in us. I’m not sure when my love for them turned sour, but it did at an early age. Yet, even after everything they put me through, I feel guilty that I despised them both.
My father had been terrible to me for years, so it’s no shock that I’m relieved that he’s gone. But Mama… I thought we were on the same side. Until she completely betrayed me the night of the auction.
She never even said she was sorry. Unless that’s what her suicide note meant? I don’t know. I’ll never have any concrete answers.
I’m not sure how else to feel as I stand here. I’m not going to lie to myself about my feelings toward them. Nor will I gaslight myself into believing the past is anything other than what it was.
Mentally shoving away my self-analysis, I bow my head and lace my fingers with Elena’s. As the caskets are lowered into the graves, many people step forward to toss flowers and other mementos to be buried with them. We follow their example. I toss a white rose into each of their graves, finally feeling a twinge of sadness and sympathy for my mother. Nothing but loathing for my father.
I can’t imagine the horrors she faced being married to Papa. Perhaps I should forgive her weakness, because would I have acted any differently married to a man like him?
He broke her. Given enough time, he would have broken me too.
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I don’t have to find out.
Relief settles over me as we amble toward the waiting car. It’s over. Not only the funeral, and burial, but also the past twenty-one years of my life. My childhood is gone. My brutal adolescence is done. The traumatic beginnings of my adulthood are over.
I’m free of those who tormented me my entire life. That realization seems surreal.
Given the stress of the past week and a half—being auctioned off, my father’s death followed by my mother’s suicide, narrowly avoiding another mafia war, then Cian’s fight—I attend the reception hosted by my aunt and uncle for the minimal amount of time possible.
I suffer through all the condolences, trying to sound like I’m grieving that my parents are six feet under. When all I can think about is how my sister and I are free of them. Free of our toxic upbringing.
Wrestling with my guilt takes a toll as well. By the time I can escape, I’m exhausted and want to go home.
I go in search of my sister, finally finding her staring at the floor in a corner. “Elle, you’re coming home with me. Grab your coat.”
She silently nods. We head for the door, but we’re intercepted by our cousin Sophia.
“She’s welcome to stay with us indefinitely,” Sophia glances between us. “Mama said it’s the least we can do.”
“Wait here,” I tell Elena. Pulling Sophia aside, I lower my voice in the crowded room. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for her, but Elle is my responsibility. I want to keep her close and make sure she’s going to be okay. I’m worried about her.”
“Me too.” Sophia chews on her bottom lip.
I frown as I gaze at my twin, who continues to stare at the floor. “Please tell me your father isn’t going to uphold the plan to marry her off to the Russians. She wouldn’t survive it.”
Sophia wrings her hands, catching my full attention. She’s struggling to find the right words, to be diplomatic. What is she so concerned about?
“Spit it out,” I tell her. “You know you’re not good at keeping secrets from me.”
A wry grin briefly flits across her lips. “True. And no, Elena doesn’t have to worry about the Russians. Now that Papa’s the don, it makes more sense for our alliance with the Russians to be through our immediate family. Which means…” She glances away. “Which means it falls on my shoulders, since I’m the eldest.”
“Oh, Soph.” I grab her shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “I’m so sorry. I don’t wish those brutes on anyone.”
She hugs me back. “I don’t know if it will be that bad. I get to start dating my fiancé soon, so my experience won’t be anything like yours. I’ll at least get to know him before ourarranged marriage happens. Besides, you survived the Irish, and we thought they would be horrible. Remember all the terrible stories the aunties used to tell us about them?”
I snort. “The aunties are terrors. But you’re right, I might even find happiness with Cian. He’s nothing at all like I expected—mostly. I mean he is huge and can be mean, he has a temper too, but there’s so much more to him. I hope your Russian match goes as well as mine.”
