Page 12 of The Golden Hour

Midnight eyes glittered on me, dense with secrets. My father had the same eyes. So did I. Molten black, deepest bronze only in direct sunlight.

He tapped his temple, smearing oil near his receding hairline. “Because of what’s in your head.”

I trusted and loved my uncle.

But he scared me, too.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Not now, but you will.” He nodded at the scarred table—my cue to get back to work.

“Tell her to leave.”

Finn’s voice lifts downstairs, scattering my thoughts.

“Not happening,” comes Molly’s calm reply. “Whatever reason she’s here, it’s a good one, and I won’t turn her out just because you’re being a brat.”

Finn groans. “Dammit, Mol.”

“Now why don’t you tell me what really brought you here after all these years?”

He’s silent for long moments, then, “I’m tired of living a lie, pretending everything is fucking rainbows. Dad’s dead because of that family, and no one cares. What’s that famous quote? ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is forgood mentodo nothing’? I can’t sit back and do nothing anymore.”

“And the Bible says ‘Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.’ Hate is a heavy burden to bear, Finn. It’s changed you. You were such a wild, joyful child.”

“Your dad being murdered changes you,” he says rigidly.

“Of course it does, honey. I’m not saying you should forget the past. But you need to decide what you want from the future. What kind of life you want to live.”

“One without Avellinos in the top levels of government.”

She sighs. “Fine. Then do something. If it’s revenge you want, use all that money you’ve earned taking pictures and hire investigators to dig up dirt on Vivian Avellino. If you really think she’s a criminal, put a stop to her political aspirations.”

My heart picks up speed. Maybe…

“I already hired people,” replies Finn, and my rising hopes crash and burn. “Two, actually. Top-of-the-fucking-line PIs. One of them disappeared and the other one came back with nothing, then promptly retired to a tropical island.”

My head thuds against the stairwell wall. While I’m not surprised, the reminder of what I escaped from is still shocking.

“That’s suspect,” murmurs Molly.

“You think?” Finn snaps. “Please, help me get through to Mom.”

“That’s why you came?” Molly’s voice is hard and cold. “You want your mother to be some sort of figurehead for your anti-Avellino campaign?”

“Fuck, when you put it like that—”

“It sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Because it is, Finnegan. Your mom is in a good place right now, and you want her to unearth all that pain just to satisfy your hate for Rafael Avellino? A dead man? Not happening. Don’t make me bring your sisters into this.”

“Aunt Mol—”

“I will protect this family,” she declares, “even from you. Now get out of my house. I need to cool off before I say something I regret.”

A few moments later, the front door slams.

“You can come down now, Calli.”

My heart hammering, I descend the stairs to the living room. Molly stands near the picture window, gazing onto the street. Likely watching her nephew storm off.

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