Page 64 of Bittersweet Endings
“Tell me.”
His lips pressed together, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” I snapped. “You expect me to just go along with this, no questions asked? Give me something, Rocco. What’s the threat?”
His silence was damning.
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You really don’t know, do you?”
His eyes flickered with something. Frustration, maybe even embarrassment, but it was gone just as fast. “All I know is that it’s serious,” he said. “And it’s not up for debate. But be honest,Tave. We both know what it is. It’s either Peiro, that asshole, or his dad.”
I flinched, then tried covering it with a scoff. “Not up for debate?That’s rich. You want me to drop everything, let myself be locked away like some fragile little doll. Those days are behind me, Rocco. Especially when I don’t knowwhy.”
“Those are my orders.” The finality in his tone hit me like a brick. And anger was rippling up my throat.
Orders.It didn’t matter what Rocco thought. Didn’t matter whatIthought. Lucky had decided. And when Lucky made a decision, it didn’t change.
My fists clenched at my sides. “This is bullshit, Rocco.” My lip trembled. “I didn’t ask for this.”
He studied me for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer but unwavering. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you get a choice.”
I hated the way my chest tightened. Hated the way the reality of it all pressed in around me. Because I wasn’t stupid. If Lucky wanted me at the compound, it meant something was coming. Something bad. And I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the answers when I finally got them. So I didn’t fight. I just followed orders.
Even if it made me physically sick to go back to that house. Even if everything inside me told me I wouldn’t be safe there. I went along anyway.
***
The car ride to the compound was suffocating as my mind raced in circles. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city and my thoughts blurred around me.
As much as I wanted to lash out, I kept my mouth shut. Rocco didn’t deserve it. He’d been protecting me and advocating for me. Not following this demand would cause him issues. And I couldn’t do that to him.
My fingers twitched with the urge to grab my phone, to call Carmine and demand answers. Was this because of him? Had he done something, or was it his father?
The thought had me clenching my teeth. I wanted to scream, to curse them all out. If they thought I would roll over and play the part of the obedient little sister, they were sorely mistaken.
The compound loomed ahead, its high iron gates swinging open as we approached. Rocco pulled through, and my anger surged hot and fast. By the time the car rolled to a stop, I was ready to explode.
I threw the door open before Rocco could say a word, shoving it hard enough that it nearly bounced back on me. My heels hit the pavement, and I stormed towards the entrance, my pulse pounding in my ears. I barreled through the doors, not caring who was watching. Not caring how many of Lucky’s men stood around eyeing me warily.
“Lucky!” My voice rang through the main hall. “You wanted me here. And I’m here! Come out and tell me what the big issue is!”
I heard the shuffle of movement, the murmurs of his men around me. Then, finally, my brother stepped out from one of the rooms, his expression calm.
I saw red. “You arrogant, overbearing son of a bitch,” I seethed, storming towards him. “What the hell is this?”
Lucky raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered by my rage. “Nice to see you too, Octavia.”
“Don’t,” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t act innocent. You had me dragged here like some prisoner, and I want to know why.”
His gaze flickered past me to Rocco, who had followed me in and now stood quietly behind me. His arms crossed as he leaned back against the door, watching Lucky—not me.
I took a step closer to my brother, my hands clenched at my sides. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”
“That familyhas made their final threat against us. They want you. And they can’t fucking have you,” Lucky growled. “Go the fuck upstairs because you’re not leaving until I getthemhandled.”
Then he walked off like it was nothing, like I hadn’t just stormed in screaming at him in front of his men. Like I didn’t matter.
The guys still lingering in the hall murmured amongst themselves. I couldn’t make out their words, but I didn’t have to. I knew exactly what they were saying. They were loving this. Loving the way their boss handled business—how he handled me.
