Page 136 of Seeking Vengeance

I flinch at the ease with which he relays my nightmares. The simplicity. The lack of emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I scoff, finding him sickeningly self-righteous for asking about my skeletons when his pile far higher.

“Why pretend you’d had a love affair?” he continues. “Why allude to being a past lover?”

“I didn’t allude to anything. You assumed.”

His eyes narrow with impatience. “I could’ve done something. I could’ve—”

“You couldn’t even tell me your real name.”

“Matthewismy real name.” He straightens, wincing with the movement. “They’re not my family.”

“No?” I raise a brow. “I think your DNA would argue.”

“My DNA doesn’t make them family.”

“That’s exactly what it does.”

His jaw ticks as Bishop takes one retreating step after another until he’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching us like a soap opera.

“I was born a Costa.” Matthew hobbles to the fridge, pulling out a bag of vegetables from the freezer drawer to hold against his crotch. “I didn’t stay one.”

“That doesn’t change a thing.”

“No?” He raises a brow as he settles back against the counter. “So you loved your father? You loved a man rumored to traffic sex slaves?”

I press my lips tight, refusing to answer.

“Families aren’t so clear cut are they,amore mio?”

I grind my teeth, scowl my fury, my jaw aching from the tension.

He’s undaunted by my hatred, not batting an eye while he repositions the makeshift ice pack against his crotch. “You could’ve at least told me your family had Emmanuel shot. Especially when I told you yesterday what would happen if I was associated with him being hurt.”

My mouth opens in protest. My heart races.

Is that what Cole had been hiding the last time I was home? Had he instigated war without warning me?

Jesus.

I force my chin high. “Turns out we both had secrets that could hurt the other.”

His gaze assaults me, scrutinizing, a cruel smile curving his lips. “You didn’t know.” He scoffs a laugh. “Your fucking brother didn’t have the sense to tell you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bishop mutters. “She’s clueless.”

My fingers twist in my lap, my loathing skyrocketing.

Matthew stands taller. “That settles it then. You’re staying with me until this is sorted.”

“That settles it?” I dig my nails into my palms. “How doesthatsettle anything?”

“You still want to run home to a brother who put you in danger?”

Cole’s frantic texts make more sense now. How he wouldn’t quit demanding to know my whereabouts and who I was with. If only he’d told me what was going on.

---