Page 22 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

At least being here, I have access to a fully stocked first aid kit. After my shower, I’ll be able to tend to it better than I could in a subway bathroom.

Ew, even saying that out loud sounds unsanitary.

Stepping under the spray, I close my eyes and let the hot water wash away the grime and blood. The physical pain of my wounds is nothing compared to the ache in my heart. I press my forehead against the cool tile, the events of the day crashing over me in a tidal wave of grief and anger.

My father is dead. Francesco is dead. And I’m bound to protect the one person who broke me.

The water mingles with my tears as I stand there, letting the reality of my new life sink in. The power transfer from my fatheris still zinging in my bones, the weight of my new responsibilities pressing down on me.

I will be strong.

I will protect Zane and secure the dagger.

I will avenge our fathers.

Even as I say the words to myself, I don’t believe them. I don’t feel strong enough to do any of those things. I’m hurt and broken and want to curl up into a ball and cry until Da wakes me up and tells me it’s all been a horrible nightmare.

Lost in thought, I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, and the chill snaps me back to the present. I can’t afford to fall apart… Not with Zane here to see it.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a huge, fluffy towel around myself and stare at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me differs from the girl who lived here seven years ago. She’s harder, stronger, but the pain of loss is there, etched into every line of her face.

I ignore the reality of that and grab the medical case from the linen cupboard beside the sink. I need to repair, rest, and then regroup. No other thoughts are allowed to highjack my mind. Da trusted me to be his successor.

Me being here with Zane is important—it’s life or death.

I clutch the handle of the medical kit, take a deep breath, and head straight to the bedroom.

Zane is in the office chair across the hall and seems lost in thought as he stares at the monitors on the desk. It strikes me then—he could see his father beheaded.

I didn’t mention that to him because I didn’t want to even speak the words, but watching it would be worse without knowing.

“Zane?”

“Yeah?” He’s still scrolling through the security video and doesn’t look at me.

“I’m sorry about Francesco. He was a great man and deserved a shit ton better than to be taken down like he was. What they did was brutal. You don’t want to see it.”

Zane lifts his gaze from the monitors. Loss and agony swirl in his scarlet gaze like a fiery storm. “You’re about ten minutes too late on that warning, Scots, but thanks.”

I close my eyes, my stomach twisting around the undigested cookies in my gut. There’s nothing I can say that will make either of us feel better. “We’ll make them pay, Z. Whatever it takes, whoever is involved, their violent death is a done deal. Even if they don’t realize it yet.”

And with that, I retreat to the bedroom to tend to my wounds.

Zane

The walls are closing in and I’m not sure how to vent the violent anguish raging inside me. If I could leave, I would go to an underground fight club or, better yet, kill someone on my Dexter list of filth who deserves it. I can’t leave—not yet.

But when I do, blood will be shed.

I tip my tumbler back and swallow the glass of whisky in one shot. The vintage Scottish malt is smooth going down but stokes a burning heat down the back of my throat and deep in my belly. I need the liquid sedation to take hold and ease some of the rough edges before I lose my mind.

I also need it to erase the tang of blood and sex that still lingers in my mouth. It offends everything in me—especially with the luscious scent of Scottie’s blood hanging in the air.

I need to heal her, but she won’t let me.

She doesn’t want me near her.

She doesn’t trust me.

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