“No,” I grunt. “He stole it. From a Peruvian sex worker.”
Angel’s eyes turn to saucers.
Flipping the knife over to reveal the symbol—the bird wrapped in barbed wire, carved into the ivory handle beside his initials, I take a breath.
I have never told this to another living soul.
“Her name was Isabella Blanco. She was my great-aunt.”
“What…” Angel’s soft voice gusts.
“She, bornIgnacioBlanco, was skilled in forging steel. She used to make all kinds of things, mostly blades and swords. But it didn’t exactly pay the bills, so she would moonlight as a sex worker to make ends meet. Her street name wasIvory, because she was known for the jewelry she used to wear, which she’d made from real ivory.”
Angel looks completely entranced. “Where did she get it?”
“A customer she was fond of didn’t have cash, so she took it in trade.” I grin. “Anyway, she made this, and carved this symbol into it… El pájaro dentro de alambre de espino.”
“Wow…” He gleams, taking the knife to examine it more closely. “What happened to her?”
“Your grandfather, Arturo Senior… He killed her.”
Angel gasps.
“He stole the knife, said he’d found it when he was in Peru for business.Your fatherstarted the rumor that his father made it.Even carved his initials in it to corroborate hislore,” I scoff, jaw clenched. “Obvious bullshit, but no one dared question him.”
“Why would my abuelo kill Aunt Ivory?” He asks, expression painted with empathy.
I have to smile at how goddamn sweet he is.Azucar puro, seriously.
“Well, no one knows for sure.” I brush my thumb over his pout. “But I think he killed her to keep her quiet.” His blinking goes rapid, despite the melancholy in his eyes. “They were having an affair, and your grandfather couldn’t have anyone finding out, since he was married… and she was trans.”
The hatred in my voice is as sharp as the blade he’s holding.
Angel appears devastated. “But you don’t know… for sure?”
“I know that they were sleeping together during his trips to Peru, and I know she was conveniently dead after his last visit. And then there’s the knife…”
Angel sniffs. I adore how sorrowful he is on behalf of my tragic family tale.
He is extra pretty when he’s sad.
Taking him by the hand, I bring him to the dresser. “When I began working for your father, I saw the knife. I recognized it instantly by the carving, since my father still had many of Isabella’s things.”
Reaching into the back of the top drawer, I pull out a small box. I open it and remove a necklace, showing it to Angel. His lips part, eyes springing between mine and the ivory pendant with the carving of a bird in barbed wire.
“This was hers,” I tell him softly.
Then I place it around his neck.
“Hang on… I can’t accept this,” he whines, though it’s clear he wants to, the way his gaze is coveting the beautiful handmade jewelry.
“But you have to, baby,” I hum, moving his hair aside to fasten the necklace. I press a kiss on his nape and he purrs. “It deserves to be passed on.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. “After I killed your parents, I vowed that if you, or your sister, ever came for me, I would give it to you. I would tell you the truth of that knife Istoleand make sure The Ivory lived on… in you.”
He’s just staring at me, and my chest isaching, because I know what I’m about to do… What I’m about to tell him that will smash his beautiful heart to pieces.
“Cards on the table, I thought it would be your sister,” I sigh. “Even after you found me at Edge, part of me still thought Avianna would end up in here first. We were always searching for her too… And when I heard that there was a girl lurking around the island, I was almost certain it was her.”
There’s a subtle shift in his features, as if he likes this. That I thought he was Avianna. That the two of them are still linked, through this, as dreadful as it may be.
