Page 163 of Salvatore

I fight a sneer. “If a bloodbath is what you?—”

“He didn’t do it,” Matthew cuts me off. “I did.”

I snap my gaze to him in warning.

“We both did,” Remy adds. “Together.”

Lorenzo keeps staring at me, vibrating with fury, not acknowledging the false admissions.

“He’s never going to believe that.” Abri approaches, moving to stand at my side. “It was me. I finally paid her back for everything she put us through, and I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

“Sit down,belladonna.” Bishop strides after her. “Lorenzo knows that bitch has been in my sights for a fucking long time. I killed her. If there’s going to be repercussions, level them on me.”

The thud of my pulse quickens, their solidarity sinking into me like a lead fucking weight. Sibling support has been rare. I even have the scars to prove how easily Matthew can turn his back on me—mentally and physically. So this is hard to fathom.

Hard to digest.

Hard to fucking ignore.

Thankfully Lorenzo doesn’t believe them if the scathing gaze that remains leveled on me is any indication.

“She should’ve died long ago, and you know it.” I keep my gun palmed, my reflexes at the ready. “There was no rehabilitating her.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” he sneers. “You aren’t the head of this family.”

“Yet,” I clarify. “I’m not the head of this familyyet.”

He takes my response with a slight widening of his shoulders, perhaps letting my words sink in before he snickers, vindictive and vengeful. “You’re too careless for your own good,figlio. You will be the death of all those you love.”

I breathe through the accusation, the tingle at the back of my neck making it feel like more of a prediction.

“I warned you not to get involved,” he continues. “Itoldyou not to tie this woman’s issues to our family. Her injuries will be seen as an act of war.”

“That’s on Adena—not me.”

He steps closer. “The mark of a true leader is knowing when to admit you’re wrong, when you’ve made a mistake. Will you still not admit what you’ve done?”

The question irks my pride. Fucking strangles it.

I concede with a tilt of my head. “My mistake was not ensuring my mother was placed in the ground a long time ago.”

His nostrils flare, the wrinkles around his eyes growing more depth.

For long seconds he just stands there—his heated fury to my stubborn determination.

“I want to say something,” Ivy whispers.

I reach behind me, find her hand, and squeeze it in a warning to remain quiet.

Lorenzo’s gaze tracks the contact, his pursed lips thinning. “I want her returned to Gabriel.” He raises his voice, making the announcement to the room—not just me.

Ivy drags in a sharp breath, her fingers clenching mine.

“No,” I state flatly.

“No?” he repeats slowly.

“You heard me. I don’t want to raise my gun at you, Lorenzo. But know that I will if necessary. This is a hill I’ll die on.”

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