Page 11 of Wrathful King
“Obviously, my plan for her changed. But not for Romero.”
“Well, you really thought it through, huh?” My bitterness was hard to tamp down. “It never occurred to you to ask why, exactly, she killed Angelo? And don’t tell me you’re cut up about his death. We hated his guts.”
His eyes shot to mine. “You know?”
Dry amusement filled me. Of all the fucking words I said, this was what he clung to. The fact that I knew. “She recently admitted to killing him.”
“Alone?”
I watched him, wondering just how much he knew. Reina told me she did it alone, but I didn’t believe her. I’d stake my life on her sister and friends knowing. “She claimed so.”
He let out a sardonic breath. “And you believe her?”
“I do.” Not really, but there was no point in beating a dead horse. Angelo being the horse in question.
“Why? She could be lying.”
I shook my head. “She’s not. Angelo attacked her. It was self-defense. We both saw the traces of the beating she got.” When he gave me a blank stare, I added, “It was the day we saw her in Oba’s restaurant. He attacked her in her apartment a few days before.” I let the words sink in, then continued, “We both know how he liked to choke his women.”
There was no use denying the facts. We saw firsthand the beatings he enjoyed handing out. Dante rubbed his jaw, pondering my words.
“Why switch names, then?” he demanded. “Especially if he knew Reina was his?”
It was my turn to be confused. “Explain.”
“Romero and Father drew up a contract that arranged a marriage between their eldests. He did it shortly after the fiasco he got himself into with the Yakuza, so roughly six, seven years ago.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Phoenix and you.” There wasn’t a single scenario in this universe that would have me agreeing to marry Phoenix. “He really never told you?” Dante’s tone was suspicious.
“Why would he tell me and not you?”
“It would seem you’re not the only one to keep secrets to yourself,” he deadpanned.
“I swear, you’re giving me a headache with your logic.” I threw my head back onto my pillow. This conversation was going nowhere.
“So why end it with Reina if you wanted her and you knew you weren’t a Leone?” said Dante.
I locked eyes with my brother, hoping we’d evenbebrothers after my next admission. “Because I learned that I was Romero’s son, but I didn’t know Reina wasn’t his biological daughter back then.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes while memories of the shit we’d been through flashed through my mind. The truth was, blood or not, I’d always think of him as my brother.
“I know it’s a lot,” I stated slowly, the fatigue crowding my senses. There were too many things weighing on my mind. First and foremost, Reina.
“It is, but you’re my brother. I don’t give a fuck who your father is.” Dante cleared his throat, but not before I heard his voice break. “How many times did you save me from him? How many times did you save Mother from him? For Christ’s sake, you put a gun to his head to protect us.”
A memory I had long since forgotten rushed to my mind. It was the summer I met the Romero family. The same summer that Grace Romero had killed herself. And there it was, clear as day.
“What did you fucking do?” Father bellowed, his gun pressed against Mamma’s temple.
Dante and I stood frozen in the foyer, having just returned from the beach. It had been a great day… I should’ve known it was too good to be true.
“I didn’t do anything,” she screamed. “I just ran into her at the store.”
“In fucking Venice?” he yelled. “No, you went looking for her.”
Dante and I shared a horrified look, but it was the clicking of the gun that snapped me into action. I took a step forward as Mamma’s alarmed eyes found us.
“What’s going on?” I demanded in a steady voice, despite the fact that my twelve-year-old self was shaking like a leaf. “Lower that gun before you hurt someone, Father.”
He pressed the tip harder against her temple, and blood drummed in my ears. I couldn’t understand why my mother wasn’t scared. She stood there, unapologetic, her back straight and fire burning in her eyes.
