Moon gives me a thoughtful look and mutters,
"He’s not that bad. Hang on. I’ll just check on Lux."
He heads upstairs, but I’m not about to be left behind. I follow him.
We walk into a pastel, ultra-modern nursery with one of those fancy electronic cribs that rock the baby with a smooth, natural motion.
Moon gently lifts the mosquito net draped over the crib, and my eyes fall on my first nephew.
He’s so tiny, sleeping peacefully… a thin cap on his head, lips working around a pacifier that shifts slightly with each suck.
"You shouldn’t give him a pacifier," I whisper. "It’ll mess up his bite."
"Wow, we’ve got a parenting expert here." Moon shoots me an amused look, then adds, "Come on, he’ll sleep a while longer. I fed him well before we left."
I stare at the little face for a moment, something twisting in my gut. Snow will have babies like this soon, but I won’t be part of that picture. Why do I feel uneasy about it? It should be a relief!
Back in the kitchen, Moon offers me tea. I accept gratefully; my throat’s dry. While he prepares it, I sit at the table, scanning the luxurious kitchen. There are cameras here too, and on one wall, a bank of monitors shows everything around the house: the beach view, a room lit only by infrared, the perimeter fence, and sensor readouts.
Wow. Moon really does live in a fortress. I was right. He escaped one and now lives in another. That’s what happens when you deal with the mafia. Never safe. Never at peace.
But that one thought pulls up others, and those bring… even more.
Bitterness swells in me, and I can’t hold it back anymore. My happiness at seeing my brother has faded. Now it’s time for answers with a big A.
When he sets the cup of tea in front of me, I look up and lock eyes with him: one gold, one silver, just like mine. That trait links all three of us brothers: our mismatched irises.
"Go ahead. Hit me with all those questions you’re dying to ask, Summer." Moon’s smile is crooked, a little sour. No surprise. He probably saw this coming.
"Why did you even decide to marry Anzo?!"
Wow. That must’ve hit him. Or maybe not? When Moon met Anzo, I was sixteen, and nobody cared about the questions burning on my tongue. But now it’s time to get some clarifications.
"It’s not like he didn’t give you a choice. You were with him for a year before you decided to marry him. I still don’t get it. Neither Ragnar nor our parents did. He’s a psycho…"
Moon takes a sip of tea, his face thoughtful again, almost melancholic. He absently toys with a silver strand of hair.
Then he stands and walks to the window, staring at the ocean beyond the beach.
"There are some questions I can’t answer, because you’re not in my head. You don’t know what my life looks like, how my visions steer it, how they shape my decisions…"
"Bullshit!"
I stand too and move to the window. The view is truly beautiful: a wide, golden beach and the endless Atlantic Ocean. However, the sun is no longer visible as a storm is approachingfast. The clouds are darkening on the horizon, seeming wispy and ominous, like the gray, furious backs of wild mustangs racing across a rainy sky. But the marvels of nature can’t distract me from my anger.
"You walked a path that dragged all of us, our entire family, into hell. I spent a year in that damn fortress. You let him kidnap me, abuse me. You knew when you disappeared that he’d go to our parents and demand they hand me over. How could you do that to me, Moon?"
Moon presses his lips into a thin line. As brothers, we were never especially close, maybe because of his drug use, which made him unpredictable.
He poisoned himself for years trying to dull the impact of his visions, to make them more like pale dreams. Part of me understood that, but another part knew that this kind of life led him to reckless choices, with consequences for me too.
"I did it because I knew this whole story would end well for all three of us, but only if we all got locked up in that fucking fortress!" He exhales sharply. "I knew you’d suffer, but I also knew happiness was waiting for you at the end of that road. The day I told Anzo ‘yes’, I had the first inklings, hints of what might happen, shadows, yes, vague, but still promising. And I stepped into it willingly. I knew I’d meet my True Mate, I knew Ragnar would meet Sun… and I knew you’d find your fated mate, Snow—"
I whip around, grab his arm, and force him to look me straight in the eye as I spit my fury at him.
"Snow is not my True Mate! Don’t you get it? You were wrong! Wrong!"
I’m kinda scared by my own intensity, by the power of my disappointment. Dear Fate, I reallydidhope for it, didn’t I?
