Page 2 of Broken Truths

The black handle fits perfectly in my grip, the blade glimmering in the torch light as I inspect its sharp edge.

Yes, this will do.

I step up to my grandson, holding his attention. He hasn’t once dropped his dark gaze to look at the knife in my hand.

Bravery… I like it.

I won’t bother asking him where his loyalty lies this time. I’ll just prove it.

Using his sternum as a foundation, I carve my initials into his chest deep enough to scar, but not deep enough that it looks haphazard.

FJ.

Like a property ledger, I’m claiming my assets.

Rivulets of crimson rise to the surface and seep through the cuts. I place my tool back on the tray while admiring my handiwork. “There.” I smile at him. “I must say, Leonardo, that’s the best permanent marking you have on your body yet.”

He peers down. When he spots my mark, his whole body locks up, his jaw hardening to stone.

Admittedly, I hate his garish tattoos, but there’s something to be said for doing the marking.

I’m like the child who wants to write his name on everything he owns.

Leonardo Jarvis is not only mine to do with what I want, he’ll soon learn that was always the case.

Now, I just have to find out what’s really going on between him and Eden Astor.

1

Eden

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I’m dating…if dating is even the right word…I’m certainlyfuckingthree guys, feelings dangling over us like promises—or threats. I can’t tell which yet. Sometimes the emotions have thorns, and sometimes they’re like white, billowy clouds that want to suck me into their warm embrace.

Whatever I’m feeling, it’s intense. Like adrenaline pumping through my body all the time. Relationships, I’m learning, are complicated, and not all of them are created equal.

With Oliver, it’s as effortless as breathing. I know him like I know myself. He’s not an enigma or a riddle I have to solve. Falling into his arms is like coming home.

Being with Leo is like the ultimate form of self-punishment and reward. He infuriates me to no end, but I find myself quivering under his touch.

Alaric might even be a bigger conundrum. I know what I’m getting myself into with the other two, but Alaric is a sleeper. He retreats and moves in like a spider dangling from its web. I can almost touch him, but then he pulls away again, just out of reach.

I guess there isn’t a handbook on fucking three guys. A support group would be nice. A step-by-step procedural. Should I be rotating through their bedrooms so they don’t feel neglected? Should I adhere to a strict schedule or just wing it like I have been?

On top of all of that, my sister’s killer is as elusive as ever. We’re so close, yet still so far away.

My chest pinches, and it takes an excruciatingly long few seconds to fill my lungs with air again as I breathe through the reminder of her death. You would think that because my ultimate goal is finding out who killed her that her death would be there like a constant rain cloud over my head, and sometimes it is. But other times, grief hits me like a lightning bolt, leaving me almost suffocating under the weight of her loss.

It took all of them to fill the void she left—to keep me on the scale tipped toward sane rather than the straitjacket.

A masculine hand sets a coffee down in front of me. I glance up, expecting to see Oliver but it’s Leo who sits across from me, tipping his own to-go cup to his lips before placing it on the small table next to mine. “You’ve been staring into space for at least five minutes.”

The hair at the back of my neck bristles. Everything that comes out of his mouth sounds like an accusation.

I take in the slight tilt to his head, dark eyes focused on me with an air of sincerity, and shake my original thoughts off. It’s me.I’mon edge, obviously. “I have a lot to think about, I guess.”

“Is it about the teapot?”

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