Page 68 of His Queen

“Because they don’t want anyone to know the truth.”

“What truth?”

His green eyes, which look a lot like my own, flash with something I don’t recognize. “They killed our parents, Mirabella. The Del Rossas are responsible for all of it.”

It’s like a knife through the heart, his words slicing my flesh and tearing through my mind like a thousand razor blades.

“No.” I shake my head again, unable to comprehend what he just said. “They didn’t—” I can’t even say it out loud. “They didn’t do it.”

“But they did,” Marco insists, his voice growing more urgent.

“They took Maximo and me in. Why would they do that if they’re responsible for what happened that night?”

“Guilt,” he snaps, pulling at the rope that is keeping his hands tied behind his back. “They were friends with Mom and Dad. Then betrayed them. Killed them.”

“And what about you? Why haven’t they taken you in? Where have you been all this time?”

Without missing a heartbeat, he replies, “I’ve been running from them for the last nine years. They know I know what they did, and they’ve been trying to find me, to silence me. Permanently.”

It’s like being dropped into an ocean of ice—a cold shock rattling through my core.

“That’s why they had to make it look like I was dead, too, so no one would look for me. Only them.”

I launch up, anger rising through my confusion. “If they’re these murderers you say they are, why didn’t you come for Maximo and me? Why did you leave us here with them?”

His expression turns hard, but there’s a desperation in the way he slants his brows. “I was seventeen years old, Mira. How the fuck was I supposed to go up against the people who murdered our parents?”

“Why don’t I believe you, Marco?”

“Because they fucked with your head, that’s why. Now, untie me so we can get the hell out of here.”

“No,” I murmur, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t believe the family who raised me for the last nine years, the people who have cared for and protected Maximo and me, are capable of something so cruel.”

“They’re not the people you think they are, Mirabella,” Marco says softly. “They’re monsters. Every last one of them.”

My heart constricts. “Nicoli is not a monster,” I bite out. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Mira, listen to me,” he snaps as if growing impatient. “You need to untie me and help me get out of here. I have to leave this place before they come back.”

I frown at him; drowning in so much confusion is maddening. “How did you even get here in the first place?”

His gaze frantically cuts all around me as if he’s searching for answers, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. As much as I want to believe my brother, who I thought was dead all these years…somehow, I don’t.

“I came back for you,” he says, his tone low and ominous. “I came back hoping I’d be able to get to you, but they found me first. Stuck me here in this fucked-up place, keeping me captive until they got what they wanted from me.”

“What could they possibly want from you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“A confession,” he replies darkly. “They want me to admit to something I didn’t do.”

“And what’s that?”

He pulls his lips in a thin line, and I don’t like the look in his eyes as he stares at me.

“What do they want you to admit to, Marco?”

“To killing our parents,” he snaps. “They want a confession to take the heat off them. Mira, we can talk about this all you want, but first, you need to help me get out of here before they get back.”

My mind reels as his words sink in. The thought of the Del Rossas, the family who raised Maximo and me, being responsible for our parents’ deaths is too much to bear. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the truth that Marco is alive and sitting in front of me. Clearly, they did lie to us, but I can’t get myself to believe they are the reason I’m an orphan, the reason I watched my mom die, that dreaded memory sticking to me for years, haunting me in the middle of the night.

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