Page 25 of Blood and Redemption

Ren probably wishes some of his men could’ve come as well, but they didn’t receive invites. His being here is already pushing the line.

Getting out first, I hold out my hand to help Aurora. While she’s looking at the home in amazement, I’m taking in our surroundings.

The front of the home is quiet, too quiet. In the back, the sounds of voices carry.

Taking in a breath, my stomach tightens. Aurora gives my hand a much-needed squeeze before tugging me toward the home.

Of course, there’s a brute waiting for us inside—the same hulking bastard who delivered Santino’s invitation all those weeks ago. And just like before, his lip curls when he looks at me, disgust simmering in his beady eyes.

“Weapons.” He jerks his chin toward the men already piling pistols and knives into a steel lockbox. “Nothing passes this point.”

I don’t move. “That rule for us, or everyone?”

Ren answers for me. With a confident smile, he pulls his pistol from the small of his back and drops it into the box with a clank. “Relax,” he says, all teeth. “If Santino wanted you dead, he wouldn’t waste a bullet. He’d make it personal.”

Ren is good at acting, I’m not. I’ve always worn my emotions on my sleeve.

The brute’s growl rattles deep in his chest in agreement—but it’s the way his gaze flicks to Aurora that sets my blood on fire. She steps closer, her shoulder brushing mine, and I don’t bother hiding my scowl.

“She has nothing on her.” Unclipping my own weapon, I drop it next to Ren’s. “Can we go now?”

The brute looks past us, taking in my family. “Don’t cause trouble. Not to us, or your siblings.Shemay have wanted you here, but no one else does.”

As his words simmer, the Marino siblings drag me into their home.

Entering a grand room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the grand staircase is blocked off, and the same is true for one half of the home. Instead, there is a path that leads straight down a long hallway toward large glass doors that seem to lead to the back of the house.

Past me would’ve loved to try to sneak away, to pull what information I could. The same job I gave to Camellia before sending her off on her own. Now I’ve got heavy feet carrying me along. I can’t think about anything but getting from one end of the home to the other.

“Breathe.” Aurora’s voice is low, her fingers tightening around mine. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I am breathing—too fast, too shallow. The air tastes like gunmetal and old blood in this godforsaken house, but that’s not why my pulse is racing in my throat.

It’sthem. My sisters.

Are they still whole? Still them? Or has this family carved out everything soft and left hollowed-out dolls in their place? The not-knowing is worse than any blade. It’s a living thing, gnawing at my ribs, dragging me under with every step deeper into this hell.

Clearing my throat, we reach the back of the home, entering what looks like luscious gardens. Past the bushes, the life of the party.

So many people relax in chairs, sitting amongst themselves, all on the groom’s side. The bride’s side is scarce, laid out with the hope that someone would show.

There are two people sitting in the front row, one of whom is a familiar face.

“Rocco?” Ren’s voice is cautious as I move toward the crowd without thinking.

I don’t give a damn about the guns or the glares or the way half these men would love an excuse to put a bullet in me.

All that matters is her.

My sister.

But of course, fate’s a bitch. The man looming at Eliza’s side spots me first. Urzo Bertelli—Santino’s brother, with that same cruel twist to his scarred mouth. His frown isn’t just a warning; it’s a promise.

Pathetic. Did they really think posting a guard would stop me? That I’d let some overgrown watchdog keep me from my own blood?

Then Eliza turns her head.

For one heartbeat, shock flickers across her face—before it’s swallowed whole by something else. Something familiar.

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