We all start walking down the hill together, toward the clearing behind the church. Smoke’s already rising, someone’s lit the grills. The scent of seasoned meat, charcoal, and garlic hits me before I even see the crowd. Our entire family is here. Cousins, uncles, wives, kids, bodyguards who double as cousins. Everyone wears Sunday best, but the laughter and shouting makes it feel more like a block party than a mafia gathering.
This is how we do it. Threats and warnings in the morning, before the calm of the church. Now, steak and laughter in the afternoon.
Uncle Sebastian stands near the fire pit, cigarette tucked behind his ear, apron around his waist, flipping ribs. Our father walks over to him, stealing a bite off the grill, and Sebastian swats at him with tongs.
“Your old man’s still trying to steal my crown,” Sebastian says, pointing the tongs at us.
“You haven’t had a crown since high school,” my father fires back. They both laugh like the last twenty years didn’t include blood on warehouse floors and bodies in rivers.
Our mother’s sitting at the long picnic table under the oak tree, sipping from a wine glass that never seems to empty. She waves us over, but I veer off, grabbing a drink first. I need something cold in my hand to drown out the heat crawling back under my skin.
Because she’s in my head again.
Aoife.
It’s not just that she’s beautiful. Plenty of girls are.
It’s not just the eyes, or the mouth, or the fall.
It’s the silence.
She didn’t scream when she slipped or cry when I caught her. She looked at me like I was a bullet she’d already taken once.
“Are you going to keep brooding or join the living?” Rosa asks, appearing at my side.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Your body is. Your mind’s off climbing cliffs and chasing shadows.”
I say nothing.
She stares at me for a beat too long. “Who is she?” she asks, like she already knows. “You look torn between putting her in the ground and pulling her into your bed.”
“You sound like Marco.” Knowing very well he’s told her, because that guy tells her everything and I mean every fucking everything.
She walks off without saying anything, grabbing a plate and slapping food onto it like she’s been starving since yesterday.
I make my way to the edge of the party, leaning against a tree, watching the others. Laughter rings out, our little cousins chasing each other with sticks, our older cousins, who are about to finish Blackstone Academy and get into the world of business. Our uncles deep in arguments about a football game, our mother dancing barefoot in the grass while Father watches her like she hung the moon.
That’s when I see them both, Grandfather and Granddad, sitting in their chairs. Their backs straight, napkins folded neat across their laps. Talking old stories about how the city has changed, but the Messina family looks after it.
Grandfather starts talking about his first mafia job, and everyone leans in to hear. Even Rosa. The old stories still burn. A blood-soaked foundation we’re expected to build on. The story continues, and everyone listens like it’s the first time they’ve heard it. It’s not.
But my mind stays on the cliff girl. The one I pulled back. The one whose name should mean nothing but enemy.
What I want to know is whether she tastes as good as she smells.
I drag in a breath and lie to myself, a secret with the enemy, a girl already promised, won’t hurt anyone. I want to believe it, but I know I can’t no matter how much I want it.
I need to stay the fuck away.
Chapter 3
Aoife
Iadjust my collar a third time and stare at the girl in the mirror, waiting for her to crack and reveal me.
A gray cardigan is allowed instead of the black jacket if the weather ever warms, which is rare in Hollow Edge. Plaid skirt. Gold crest branded over my heart. Uniform snug as a trap.
