Page 3 of Heir of Fire
So much so, he didn’t even realize that Luna’s new mansion was next door to the one they lived in not too long ago when they worked together to plot against their fathers for a brighter future. It seemed like everyone was living in that better future, all except for him.
Despite the houses being beside each other, the walk still took a couple minutes due to how much land stood between them. It left Dante and him in an awkward silence.
“What happened to my bike?” he asked finally.
“We brought it back because Luna told us to, only because she’s such a wonderful person,” Dante said. “Should have crushed it with a bulldozer to break your heart the way you broke hers.”
“I get it. I’m an asshole.”
“No. Asshole is an understatement. You’re just bitter.”
Finn clenched his fists, fighting the urge to hit him. He needed to plan an escape as soon as possible. “And you’re not bitter about a single thing in your life?”
“I got my revenge. I did what I had to. Now, I get to move on,” Dante said with a shrug.
How the hell was everyone so nonchalant about everything?
“How do you just move on from killing your father?” he asked.
Dante gave him a hard look. It seemed like Finn finally got under his skin, but it was a valid enough question. He was the Vitali brother who landed the final blow to their father. Therewas no way he was able to just move on from it that easily, even if it had been five months.
“Do you consider yourself naive, ignorant, or just plain fucking stupid? I didn’t just move on from anything. I suffered my entire life and expelled my demon. Now, I’m learning to live without the constant abuse, trauma, and hatred I had known from my father my entire life. I grieved him, I grieved myself, and I grieved the boy I was before. Do you think any of that was easy? It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life,” Dante spat out. “Moving on is a fucking blessing.”
Finn didn’t say a word. Dante was the closest he had come to truly feeling understood—or more correctly, to understanding himself. It was confusing as hell figuring out what the hell he felt when for his entire life he had been told to feel nothing.
“Sorr—”
“Don’t apologize to me,” Dante snapped. “Apologize to the person who actually gives a shit.”
They were all on Luna’s side. Why wouldn’t they be? She was good and loveable and had built support around herself. She deserved it. Which was why Finn needed to leave. She didn’t deserve to deal with his bullshit, not when her life was finally good.
They stopped at the gate so Dante could tell the guards that Finn was permitted in and out. Everything from then on out was a wicked case of déjà vu. The lined driveway with perfectly trimmed bushes and grass on either side. The opulent home for college kids that once again had maids and cooks running through it, though significantly less than before. Most of them must have gone over to the other house to feed Valerio’s massive ego.
Once again, Finn felt completely out of place. Everything was the same, but still completely different. It was the vibe that had changed the most. Gone was the depressing and hopelessfeeling that once surrounded every inch of the house. Instead, it was replaced with a new lightness and energy that he couldn’t describe.
“Do you remember your old room?” Dante asked.
“Hard to forget,” he said.
“Then go to it. Shower and shave. You look like shit.”
He walked away without another word, leaving Finn standing in the corridor alone. He took the same route from months ago, walking through the long hallways to his old bedroom. They had changed the sheets and bedding for him, dusted months of neglect off the furniture.
His clothes remained—in fact, everything did. His cologne, his books, shoes, and toiletries. The backpack he had on the road was also there, placed on the floor by the bed instead of on top of it. He walked over, opening the bag and retrieving the one item he had grabbed from his old childhood home before he set it ablaze: a family photo.
The picture held Luna as a newborn, his mother, his now deceased father, and him only a couple years old. Finn was the only one smiling. His eyes still held a childish innocence he couldn’t remember losing. He stood beside his father who sat on a grand chair fit for a king. His father held a single hand on Finn’s shoulder, tight and firm, and he swore he could still feel the ghost of it holding on like an anchor.
His touch had never felt comforting. That was Reece Kingsley. A merciless man.
Finn placed the picture frame on the side table face down, unwilling to feel their haunting stares any longer. He got up and made his way into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
THREE
GIANNA
New blisters were formingin her pointe shoes. Her legs ached for a break, but Gianna needed to nail down this one move and then she could relax. She leapt across the room, feeling the breeze on her skin. She extended her legs only to land weakly, nearly twisting her ankle in the process.
She fell to the floor, heaving in deep breaths. She wiped the sweat off her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment.
