Page 129 of Brutal Heir
Me: Yes.
Bran: One of our allies spotted you in a magazine with that fella from the Italian mafia.
Damned paparazzi.
I swallow, blinking back the burn in my eyes as I stare at my phone, indecision shredding me from the inside out. I can’t lose Blaine. I can’t lose Ale. I can’t?—
Bran: So are you coming, Brig? Conall only gave me twenty-four hours to find you.
I press an unsteady hand over my mouth, tears slipping free as my brother’s smiling eyes fill my vision. The brother who called me Shady O’Shea, who told me I was the strongest person he knew.
I think of Ale again, of what it would do to him if I left. If I never came back. Of the promises I’d made never to run again. Of the way his hands shake when he thinks I’m hurt. The way he said he’d keep me safe.
I want that. God, I want that more than I want to breathe.
But there’s only one choice. It’s Blaine…
I swipe my fingers across the screen.
Me:Meet me at Holy Cross Nursing home in the Lower East Side, Room 103. Half hour.
It’s risky, but it’s familiar. Neutral ground. If Bran is lying, if this is a setup, well, then I deserve whatever’s coming. But if he’s telling the truth…
I flush the toilet for show, splash cold water on my face, and step back into the café. Alessandro is still seated, scrolling through something on his phone.
I press a smile to my face then turn my gaze toward the long line at the counter. “Mind grabbing me a pastry?” I ask, casually enough.
He glances up, brow arching. “Sure. Same one as last time?”
It took him almost fifteen minutes when we came last Sunday morning. That should be enough time.
“Surprise me,” I reply, voice steady even as my heart threatens to break free from my chest, and tears begin to blur my vision. Shite, I don’t want to do this.
God, I’m so sorry, Ale.
As soon as he turns, his name spills from my lips. He whirls around, a soft smile playing across his lips.
I don’t say anything for a long minute, I just take him in. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you more.” His grin widens, and he moves to the back of the insanely long line. As soon as his back is to me, I slip toward the door by the bathrooms without grabbing my coat, then duck into the alley behind the café. I dart through the alley’s mouth just as I hear the café door creak open behind me. I don’t look back. If it’s Ale… if he sees me now, I’ll never make it out.
The winter air slices through me, sharp and brutal, but it’s nothing compared to the guilt and pain slicing through my insides.
I hate this. Lying. Leaving him like this.
It’s like leaving behind a piece of my heart. But what else can I do?
If there’s even a chance to save Blaine, I have to try.
I’m sorry, Ale, I whisper again silently into the wind, blinking back the sting in my eyes as I disappear into the city.I’ll come back to you. I swear.
If I survive the next hour.
The taxi’s tires crunch over icy gravel as it pulls to a stop outside Holy Cross Nursing Home, a crooked little building tucked behind a church in the Lower East Side. The whole place smells like boiled cabbage and antiseptic, but it’s quiet. Off-grid. Safe… or at least it used to be.
I step out, hoodie drawn low over my face, breath fogging in the sharp winter air. My fingers twitch at my sides, nerves and adrenaline dueling it out beneath my skin.
Inside, warmth and forced cheer hum through the air. Cheap holiday decorations still dangle from the ceiling even though the new year has already come and gone.
