Page 36 of Betrayed By Sin
Leon calls from the other room. Amelia straightens, the softness smoothing into elegance again.
As we walk back toward the firelit sitting room, she links her arm through mine, not tightly, just enough to be felt.
“You’ve already made waves in this city,” she says. “Now the question is, how far are you willing to swim?”
I don’t answer right away. Because honestly? I don’t know yet.
But I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
It’s true what they say, that the heart grows fonder in absence. Sin is all I think about, dream about. He runs through my mind at a near constant pace.
Because the Caputo’s have secured Bria and I’s safety at every corner of this city, she’s coming to my side today.
Bria shows up fifteen minutes late and looking like she walked out of a fashion campaign. Oversized sunglasses, dark jeans tucked into combat boots, and a vintage tee knotted at her waist like she didn’t even try. She always has that effortless kind of chaos about her. The kind that looks curated but isn't. Or maybe it is. I never can tell with Bria.
“I swear your side of the line smells different,” she says the second she steps out of the car. “Like… pine trees and trust issues.”
I laugh, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the path. “You say that like your side doesn’t reek of gunpowder and emotional repression.”
“Oh, it definitely does.” She flashes me a grin. “But at least we know how to make an entrance.”
We’re in a small, tucked-away park just outside the Rusco estate. Technically still within safe bounds, but far enough from the house that we won’t be overheard or watched. It's quiet here. Peaceful. The trees form a leafy canopy above us, sunlight dripping through in soft gold slants. I picked the spot for that reason. It doesn’t feel like war here. Just like something untouched.
Bria’s steps slow as she takes it all in, her eyes scanning every tree, every bird, every breeze like it could be a trap.
“You okay?” I ask, gently.
She shrugs, adjusting her sunglasses. “Just not used to being this far over. Never crossed the line unless I had to.”
“You’re safe with me,” I say.
She doesn’t respond right away. Just looks at me like she’s still trying to figure out how much of that she believes. Then she nods once and exhales. “I know.”
We settle onto the old wooden bench, and I hand her one of the iced coffees from my hand.
Bria arches a brow. “No poison?”
“Not unless you count oat milk.”
“Then I’ll risk it.”
We drink in silence for a bit, watching the leaves sway. There’s a lightness here I didn’t expect. Not quite peace, but something close enough to pretend.
“You ever think about how we got here?” I ask.
Bria glances at me. “Which part?”
“All of it,” I say. “The orphanage. Sin. Your family. My family. It’s like someone ripped open the middle of our lives and expected us to keep walking straight.”
She smirks. “Yeah. Except we didn’t walk straight. We stumbled and cursed and kicked over tables on the way.”
“You kicked over tables,” I say with a laugh.
“You did too,” she points out. “With words.”
I sip my coffee. “Okay. Fair.”
She shifts a little, pulling her knees up on the bench, curling toward me. “I missed this,” she says softly. “Just… girl time. You know? Not strategy. Not survival. I miss when we didn’t know who you were.”
