Collecting myself back into the unfeeling monster I was, I threw my father an enigmatic look.
“The Irish girl won’t be an issue. If Sangue Blu wants her, he is welcome to her.”
My father leaned forward, using the last shreds of his energy to pinch my cheek, kissing his fingers. “That’s my boy. I always knew you were my special one.”
Blood thundered in my ears. I stopped my hands from shaking by threading my fingers together.
“Are you sure about the Callaghan girl?” he asked.
“Positive.”
“In that case, you wouldn’t mind doing one last favor for me, would you?”
I had a feeling I very fucking much would, but it made little difference at this point. I arched an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Deliver her to Coppola personally. Show him that he’s wrong. That she is not your blind spot.”
A few moments later, we reentered my father’s office, sat at the round table, and started the voting process. My father picked up his gavel. “Stefano, make our cut twenty percent. You’ll pay standard, like everyone else.”
“Do I get the redhead?” He grinned.
My father jerked his chin in a nod.
Coppola gave him a two-finger salute. “Twenty percent it is, then.”
“All vote for the new order.”
Every man in the room raised his hand. Every man but me. Coppola watched me closely, waiting for a crack in my facade, a shred of evidence to my weakness.
I pushed it all down, including the urge to warn Coppola not to hurt her in bed, like all the others did. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Tierney was a big girl. A big girl who knew how to work a gun and a knife like no one’s business.
She’s an addiction. A disease. A problem.
I raised my hand, my face blank.
My father slammed the gavel on the table. “We’ll deliver her to you by the end of the month.”
Chapter Five
Age fourteen,the night before the great escape.
“We should wait for my brother,” Tierney said.
She watched as Lyosha poured boot polish into a Styrofoam cup, using a twig to mix it with baby oil. Fire was crackling in the hearth of his father’s office. This wasn’t the first time she’d snuck in here, enjoying the warmth and a nice plate of food, but it would be the last.
Tomorrow, she and Tiernan would be gone.
If they managed to escape, Lyosha would lose them to freedom.
If they got caught, he’d lose them to death.
Either way, this was goodbye. She wished she could tell him she’d miss him. It was the least she could do.
“All right.” Lyosha extended the tip of the twig to the fire, letting the flame catch, before pushing it back into the cup, turning his makeshift ink into soot. “Drink more vodka.” He tilted his chin toward the bottle on the desk. “The first tattoo is supposed to be painful.”
She did as she was told.
She loved Lyosha but not in the same way she loved her brother. She was never shy or flustered around Tiernan. She also could not look at her twin and see past the fact that he looked so much like her, with his burgundy hair and green eyes.
