It felt good to share this with Alba.
This was my home.
“You had an amazing home,” she said, after I told her so many stories of what it was like growing up. My mom’s baking. My father irritating my mother because he was constantly covered in oil, making a mess everywhere without even touching anything.
My sister, constantly trying to out-prank me but always failing, because whenever she was about to pull a prank, she would start giggling, which was a giant tell.
“When all of this is over, I’d like for us to live our lives here.”
I couldn’t help but smile as Alba wrapped her arms around my neck and agreed with me.
Chapter Nine
Alba
After hearing the many tales of Odin’s mom, all I wanted to do was get better at cooking. It felt like an addiction—baking, cooking, and hoping that every single night he had an edible, home-cooked meal. I wasn’t doing too bad, and following long lists of instructions was relatively easy. The baking was a little more complicated, but I successfully accomplished fudgy brownies and chocolate cake. I was pretty damn good at chocolate in most forms, and that was an amazing feeling.
In the background, I knew something was happening, because Odin was different. Each night, he would kiss me on the cheek as he came indoors, but I would see the blood on his clothes. Before he would come to dinner, he’d take those clothes out into the small yard and burn them. When he came back, there would be a smile. We wouldn’t talk about it, as I knew what he was doing.
Slowly, he was bringing the Serra Mafia down.
I’d noticed the number of men who guarded this building, and the ones on the street, had increased. Not all were dressed like they were soldiers, but I saw them. They blended in, looking like locals. Most of them were having random conversations, or were seen working on cars, or doing odd jobs, but I saw the way they looked to one another.
I also happened to spot the few Serra men patrolling the street as well.
My and Odin’s relationship was getting stronger and stronger. There was no doubt in my mind that I was in love with this man. He was an incredible man. He’d been through so much, yet he still kept fighting, and I admired that.
I loved every morning, as he would kiss me, regardless of whether I had gotten the time to brush my teeth or not. Eachnight, after we made love or had hot heavy sex, he’d hold me in his arms—that was what I missed most.
He’d told me when the time came, I would know when it was all over, because we would leave this place and go home to where he had built a new life for us. I waited, knowing the time would come.
The Serra Mafia never had an opponent like Odin. I knew they were going to lose, and I was more than okay with that. It was time for the reign to be over. The nightmare stories I heard from the women, girls, and men that had been taken, and what I had witnessed with my own eyes, all had to end. I knew Odin was the one to make that happen.
I carried the tray of Italian baked chicken, a recipe I had planned all week. As I put the hot, bubbling casserole on the table, Odin looked at me, and from his grim expression, I knew something wasn’t good. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“That’s Chiara,” he said.
“What?”
In all my time being here, my family had never come to visit me. Not even when I had taken the poison meant for my husband.
“What is she doing here?” I asked.
The cell phone my father had given me hadn’t sent texts or asked any questions in weeks. There was absolutely no reason for Chiara to be here.
I felt a sense of panic as Odin got to his feet. “Trust me,” he said.
Following him to the doorway, he opened it up, and Chiara was there, and on first glance, she looked an absolute mess. Bruises covered one eye and seemed to mottle down her cheek. Her lip looked split, and she had tears rolling down her cheeks, smearing her mascara. The clothes she wore lookeddirty, torn, and none of them were anything she would wear. My sister did not wear jeans or shirts that drowned her body. They were not my sister’s clothes.
My heart was pounding as she stumbled into the room, and I saw she wore nothing on her feet. She looked dirty, unkempt.
“Please, please, you have to help me. They killed our sister. Viola is gone. So is Mommy. Daddy’s being held captive. Please, you have to save me, you have to save us.”
Odin pulled her into the apartment, and it was the strangest thing. You would think, when looking at your sister and seeing the desperation in her eyes, you would feel something, anything. You’d feel worried or panicked, and you would want to help. I’m not a cold person. I had seen a lot of people in a sense of panic. I knew what I was looking at, and right now, looking at my sister, something wasn’t registering.
Did I hate my sister?
