After Tiernan killed Fintan last year, my twin brother was completely broken. He never said it in so many words, but I saw the way it altered him. Being betrayed by your own kin changed you in a fundamental way.
I had a feeling what was about to happen tonight would change me, too.
“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Achilles wove his fingers through my short hair tenderly. “I will follow your lead on anything you decide. We can let him go and send him into exile. I could kill him and let you know it’s been done. Or you can do it yourself. The choice is yours, and yours only, sweetheart.”
I closed my eyes, drawing a deep breath. When I opened them, our eyes met in the mirror again.
“I want you to do it, so I can focus on watching, and I want it to hurt. I want him to feel the pain I felt every single day as a child in a work camp, dreaming of the father who abandonedher. I want him to know, on his deathbed, how much I truly loathe him and that I’ll never forgive him.”
Achilles jerked his chin in a nod. “You know, Tier, once a promoted pawn is queen, she cannot be captured by a king. But she can put the king in a position he cannot escape. A checkmate, allowing another piece to capture the king and bring about endgame.”
Licking my lips, I stared at him, understanding exactly what he was saying. “I’m ready for the endgame, Achilles.”
“Your wish is my command, my queen.”
____________
A Camorrista drove me through the pouring rain from my hangout with Francesca to Long Island.
The Italian man behind the wheel couldn’t have been much older than nineteen, with traces of acne still adorning his fresh face. He didn’t look at me once and addressed me asMrs. Ferrantewhen he opened the door for me, which must’ve been what my possessive roommate instructed him to call me.
I was getting used to the idea of marrying Achilles. Only so much love could be poured into a person before you allowed it to soak in and accepted it. Achilles drenched me with devotion, attention, and affection. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I couldn’t. Our souls clicked, like two pieces of an intricate puzzle, and I knew that no one, nowhere would ever fit me the way he did.
Still, my stomach was in knots. It had been months since Achilles captured Tyrone. A lot had happened in between. And though Tyrone’s hands wouldn’t be able to touch me, his wordsstill could. I recoiled from guessing what they’d entail. What it’d take for a father to turn on his daughter like that.
“Mrs. Ferrante, we’ve arrived.” The young driver parked in front of the main entrance, got out of the car, and opened the door for me, holding an umbrella to shield me from the rain.
I stepped out, my Chanel jacket casually draped over my shoulders. I walked toward the doors, which swung open as I approached on the CCTV. Guess you could take the stalker out of the game, but you couldn’t take the game out of the stalker.
Enzo and Luca emerged from the house, wearing designer peacoats with popped collars and sporting immaculately styled hair. Luca breezed right past me, ignoring my existence. Enzo stopped to kiss my cheek. “Good luck tonight.”
He knows.
I gave his arm a quick rub. “Thank you.”
“All right, that’s enough affection for a lifetime between you two,” Achilles grumbled from the doorway. “Tierney, come.”
When I entered, he peeled the jacket from my shoulders to hang it and kissed the side of my neck. “Had a good time with the First Lady?”
“It was nice to catch up. Why is your errand boy calling me Mrs. Ferrante?”
“Because he doesn’t have a death wish,” he answered in a deadpan.
“We’re not even engaged yet.”
“We’ve been engaged since we were seventeen,” he corrected dryly. “I’ll have you recall you promised to accept my proposal.”
The wild fluttering in my chest increased tenfold. “You haven’t given me a ring.”
“Do you want one?”
I did. And that frightened me. I strutted deeper into the house. It was the first time I felt fully welcome in it. All the other times before, I was an extension of Lila and Tiernan, somethingthe Ferrantes had to endure. “Which way to the basement of horrors?”
Achilles tilted his head to the left. “Follow me.”
I did, walking past the crème columns and golden accents to a guest room on the far side of the mansion. Inside, he led me into a walk-in closet. Then, he opened another door, which was padded on the inside.
As we stepped down the steep, cobbled stairway, a shiver of terror ran up my spine. We descended into the bowels of the house, entering a massive basement that seemed as large as the entire first floor. The dark space was filled with devices of torture. A sinister smell clung to my nostrils, a mix of bleach, smoke, sweat, and blood.
