The door shuts, muffling the chants.
"Minx—"
She holds up her hand. "Silence is your shield, Brax. Now get dressed. A car is waiting outside to take you home."
9
Valentina
Six Months Later
Glass and steel reek of obscene money. Security cameras blink red in the corners, monitoring everyone and everything. Guards make their presence known. The scent of lilies and polished stone fills the space, clean and perfect.
It makes sense that Sean bought his penthouse here. The new Chicago building sold out almost instantly. It screams O'Malley arrogance and Marino power.
"Happy birthday to you!" a group sings, then clapping fills the air. I turn toward the coffee shop, and a millennial woman with blue hair and green eyes grins. She blows out candles on a cake.
Nausea rolls through me as soon as the flames go out and smoke swirls upward. Six months later, I still smell burning flesh when I close my eyes.
Mine.
His.
The V stained into my flesh still has faint pink remnants, unfaded against the parts that have turned white. Every time I look in the mirror, fresh shame floods me.
Time doesn't soften anything. I keep moving, hoping the memories will turn into muted ghosts I can peacefully live with, but it's only a wish that never comes true.
The doors open, and a gust of wind blows through the lobby. The faintest smell of blown-out candles tortures me. Another round of nausea hits, and I press my hand to my stomach.
The scar on my stomach pulls and throbs. I wince and move to the corner of the lobby, then lean against the window. I close my eyes, forcing myself not to leave.
The elevator bank glows at the far end, four sets of doors framed in brushed gold. My heart bangs against the V burned into my skin.
I came to see Zara. I brought a baby gift for her since I couldn't go to her shower.
Another ache tugs at my heart. I'd have given anything to get an invitation, even though I know it isn't possible.
It's not Zara's fault. Some things will never change, no matter how hard you try. So I remind myself it is what it is, and at least Zara doesn't hold the past against me. And that's the one good thing I have in the hell I'm surviving in.
Barely.
I shake off the pain in my torso, a flashback of the branding ceremony when the hot metal got pressed into my chest.
It wasn't the first time I got branded. I have the skull on the back of my neck, just like Zara does, only mine is red, as hers is pink.
I wanted that skull,I remind myself.
I blink hard and take deep breaths.
The gust of wind hits. I glance toward the doors and freeze.
Zara's father, Luca Marino, steps through the lobby doors like he owns the building, the city, hell, the whole damn world. His black coat flares around his legs as he takes one power step after another.
My pulse skyrockets.Shit!
The years have carved deeper lines into his face, silver threads through his dark hair at his temples, but I would know him anywhere.
Luca's my mother's brother and my uncle. He's the man I adored before I could talk. And I loved him. But that was before I knew what bloodshed and betrayal meant.
