I took it.
And Ash Abandonato, fallen angel half the time, devil the rest, held up his hands and whispered. “Again.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You must not shut the night inside you but endlessly in light the dark immerse— A tiny lamp has gone out in my tent, I bless the flame that warms the universe.” —Author Unknown
Chase
The Past: A Week Before Claire’s Death
“They really are the worst at sneaking around,” I said under my breath as Junior ran up the stairs with Serena in tow. They didn’t even see us sitting at the table in the dark, drinking wine, thinking dark thoughts, blood still caking our fingertips.
Phoenix shrugged. “I thought you were gonna deal with it.”
“This is me dealing with it.” I lifted my wine glass to him and drank deep. The wine was bitter on my tongue. Hell, these days, everything felt bitter.
In a hoarde of cousins and fucking De Langes, around fifteen people ran up the stairs and down the hall toward the movie room. It was nice to see them at least making an attempt at being normal.
I sighed again as Ash lingered in the back, his eyebrows etched together in concern as Claire shook her head and then rose and kissed him on the cheek, holding her hand there.
I ground my teeth.
Ash stared down at her like she was his heaven.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if he realized she would eventually become his hell.
“He loves her,” Phoenix whispered. “Beyond all reason. Desperately.”
“He does.” I sighed as a weight settled on my shoulders.
The small quiet girl, Annie, came up behind them. Neither of them even noticed her existence as she tugged at her cardigan, trying to cover the bruises we all knew were there.
Why else would we be covered in blood after hearing about what she’d dealt with? Ash and Junior killed her adoptive parents—and we killed the rest of the monsters, the associates, involved. It was an easy in-and-out job.
At least we continued to protect her and to protect the rest of the De Lange orphans; we did what we had to.
We killed those who would use them against us.
And would keep that secret to our grave.
Annie walked by Ash and Claire.
Ash glanced at her, his eyes lingering on her longer than I’d seen him look at any other female since Claire.
The hell?
Frowning, I sharpened my focus on Ash.
Did he… like her?
Was he attracted to her?
Claire gave his hand a tug and then smiled at Annie, a genuine smile, one that was full of happiness and protection.
Annie shook her head and made her way into the kitchen only to see us both sitting at the table, looking like a horror movie gone wrong or perhaps a horror movie gone right?
Depended on who was alive or dead, I supposed.
“Hi.” She was a few feet away from us and waved like we were across the street playing friendly neighbor.
Phoenix smirked and looked away. She was small, quiet, unassuming—she was also a victim, and I wondered if it would be my son or me who would fight for her vengeance one day?
“Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Annie?” I asked.
She gulped, her eyes drinking in all the blood most likely still covering my face. “Y-yeah.”
“Halloween costume.” Phoenix coughed. “Fake blood.”
I almost choked on my laugh as Annie nodded slowly as if to say, “Your secret’s safe with me… besides, I like living.”
I’d never seen a human being grab a bottle of water from the fridge faster than that girl, and then she sprinted down the hall, nearly colliding with Ash in the process.
He gave her an annoyed look.
She hung her head.
And Claire?
She was staring straight ahead at the wall like it held secrets.
Heavy is the crown.
It seemed that was all I’d been thinking.
“Have you decided?” Phoenix asked what I’d been thinking—what we’d all been thinking since that day.
“I can’t make that decision. It’s not my choice. It never was. Let him love her. Let him watch her resentment destroy him from the inside out. That’s my decision.”
“Blood in, no out.” Phoenix poured more wine.
“To the day we both get out of the mafia—our funerals.” I clinked my glass against his as a shroud of sadness draped over us until I felt like I was choking with it.
For the first time in a very long time—I wished for a different life for my son—because maybe then he’d have the happy ending he deserved rather than the smokescreen of perfection.
Ash deserved someone strong.
He deserved someone who wouldn’t ask him to change who he was.
Even if he was a killer, it was his choice to be made, to follow in my footsteps, and I hated anyone who made him feel like it was wrong—to want to be like your father and to already surpass him in so many ways—in all the ways that counted.
“You know…” Phoenix followed my line of sight. “…I can always talk with her or tell Nikolai to call. She’ll listen to her uncle.”