Page 45 of Unforgiving Queen
“When did it all go down?” Isla paraphrased. I gave her a confused look, not understanding the point of her question.
“Before or after midnight?” Athena added softly, as if the question made perfect sense.
“I pulled the trigger just as the fireworks went off.” My voice was rough, but it didn’t tremble. Neither did my hands when I reached for my pendant, seeking the comfort it usually provided.
“Good,” Isla muttered under her breath. “That’s very good. All the bad stuff happened last year. We start the new year fresh.”
A round of murmurs followed, all the girls nodding along in agreement.
Did the logic make sense? No. Was I going to point it out? Fuck no.
It was obvious my sister and friends needed it to get by, so I’d keep my mouth shut and be thankful they didn’t turn me in to the police.
“What time did you get home last night?” Honestly, I didn’t know how long I sat here like a zombie, but it’d felt like a while before they found me in the kitchen.
“One.” She shot a glance at the clock. “It’s six now.”
The dead body was securely stashed in the Paris catacombs—where no tourists visited—that only the five of us knew the location of. After we cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, I waited for my turn to shower, leaning against the wall.
“If by some long shot the police come to our door,” Raven started, “we should claim we never saw him. We were out. We celebrated New Year’s, got home, and then decided to go back out for some food. We roamed the street looking for an open restaurant. We couldn’t find one, so we came back. Simple.” She had a point, and we’d need to tighten this “alibi” slightly, but it was a start.
The sun was long up when I slid between the sheets of my bed. Phoenix curled in beside me, sniffling silently as she drifted off to sleep.
I stayed awake and thought about everything I had brought onto our doorstep and how it had all gone wrong.
16
AMON
Flurries tumbled from the gray Paris sky.
It had been a week since Father disappeared. This morning, we got a delivery. A dismembered dick matching Father’s DNA. It was safe to say he was dead. No clues on who did it though.
Mother didn’t seem overly heartbroken, which was understandable all things considered. Dante was uncharacteristically quiet and pensive. Hiroshi was unbothered, and I… well, I didn’t give two shits about Angelo Leone’s death. Father or not.
He was a cruel motherfucker who enjoyed exercising his power over anyone weaker than himself.
“It’s nice you suggested dinner out, Amon,” my mother said, her voice tentative. We hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye since the big revelation. When I said nothing, she continued, “It’s too bad Hiroshi couldn’t join us.”
I didn’t comment.
The moment we entered the restaurant, I regretted coming. Golden curls, happy smiles, and blue eyes full of hearts flashed in my mind. In every corner of this restaurant, I saw flashes of sunlight and heard her laughter.
It was tearing my fucking soul into tiny sharp needles that jabbed at my heart.
The restaurant was almost empty, the cold weather keeping everyone in their warm homes. Holidays and weather rarely held Oba back, and she usually opened come rain or shine. She said it kept her busy and got people out and about.
She wasn’t wrong about that; I hadn’t left my apartment in days, yet here I was.
The three of us sat around our usual corner table, and I wondered who would be the first to break the silence. There had been tension brewing between my mother and me since she dropped the life-altering news. She claimed I was being unreasonable; I claimed she should have found an earlier point in my life to break this fucked-up connection to me.
“I know it’s not the best timing,” she started, “but we still need to get our hands on Romero’s document.”
I stiffened. I had all but given up looking for it. It seemed fucking pointless.
“Short of breaking into Romero’s mother-in-law’s homes—which we won’t do—you might as well kiss that fucking document goodbye.” My tone was clipped and cold.
Dante’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m up for breaking and entering.”
