I closed my eyes. Saw Angelo at ten, holding a frog over my head. Saw him at sixteen, bleeding from the mouth and laughing anyway. Saw him at twenty-six, still and covered in snake bites.
Leo killed him. But my father made us into men who were always going to die violently. That was the truth. One pulled the trigger. The other loaded the gun years before.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To see what kind of woman makes my son stupid.” Another soft laugh. “Keep her close, Santino.”
My eyes opened. On the screen, Aurora shifted deeper into the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. Safe. For now.
My father’s voice dropped. Almost gentle. Almost fond. Which meant cruel. “You were never very good at keeping what you loved.”
The line went dead. For a moment, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The security feeds flickered silently across the wall. The ocean crashed somewhere beyond stone and glass. My father’s words remained in the room. Alive. Rotting.
You were never very good at keeping what you loved.
I stared at Aurora on the screen. At the girl who had left. At the girl who had come back. At the girl who had no idea what returning had just made her. A choice. A target. Mine.
Four years ago, I lost my brother. They weren’t taking another piece of me.
Icheckedthecamerastwelvetimes before breakfast. Which was twelve times more than a sane person would. Fortunately, sanity had never been one of my stronger qualities.
The security room glowed blue in the darkness while dawn crept slowly across the ocean outside. Monitor after monitor flickered with images of the estate.
Cliffs. Gardens. Docks. Gate. Guest house. Main house. And Aurora. Always Aurora.
There she was in the kitchen stealing strawberries. There she was wandering through the library. There she was standing on the terrace staring at the ocean like she was trying to solve it. Every camera eventually became Aurora. I hated that. Mostly because Marco kept noticing.
"You're doing it again."
I looked away from Monitor Seven. "No, I'm not."
"You are,” he said. "You literally zoomed in."
"Security reasons."
Marco stared at me. I stared back. The man sighed.
"I miss Angelo,” he muttered.
"What a strange thing to say." I pretended his words didn’t have an effect on me.
"He would've bullied you."
"Youbully me."
"Well," Marco corrected. "Angelo would've made it funny."
The room went quiet. I looked back at the screens. Monitor Seven. Aurora. Again. She stood at the edge of the garden wall wearing one of my oversized black sweatshirts and sunglasses that were definitely stolen from somewhere in the house.
Probably my bedroom. Criminal. I almost smiled. Then Monitor Seven emptied. Aurora disappeared. I frowned. A few clicks later, I found her again. Walking toward the eastern cliffs. Alone.
Absolutely not. I stood.
Marco groaned. "You've got to stop doing this."
I ignored him. Ten minutes later I found her exactly where I expected. Trying to climb a locked gate. I stopped several feet away. Folded my arms. And watched. She almost made it over. Almost.
Then her foot slipped.
