I grunt sharply.
“Attract one liar, attract them all, right?” First Blair, now Cara. Such is my fucking life.
I didn’t expect Dante to be calm, though. In fact, I was hoping his reaction would help guide me toward what I’m supposed to do, but his calmness is the opposite of the anger I was hoping for. Irritation swells in my gut and I glance at the teacup, missing it as a distraction more than anything else.
“How long did she know?” Dante asks.
“Uh…” I pause, running my mind back. Cara had said at the hospital that the weapons were just for protection, that was where her lie stemmed from. “He told her at the hospital after the bombing. Then shesworeto me she’d told me the whole truth and nothing but later on. Bunch ofbullshit.”
“Is it?” Dante asks and my eyes narrow sharply, acid bubbling hotter and rising further in my gut.
“What?”
“From what you’ve told me, Kill, she didn’t find out that long ago,” Dante points out. Tension snaps into my shoulders, and I straighten.
“Sure,” I bite back, “but shesworeto me she had told me the whole truth about those weapons. She hid the fact her father was hoping to kill us all.”
“Yes,” Dante nods and slides forward in his chair a little, “but she wasn’t part of those plans, from the sounds of it. He told her after and she likely panicked. What would you have done if she had told you everything? That her father planned a war with us and only caved because we were getting destroyed from the inside?”
“I would have walked right back into that hospital and killed him,” I growled. Heat skitters across my skin, and suddenly my clothing strains against me, pressing far too restrictively against my joints.
“Exactly. And we would have lost the Irish, and both families would crumple under Russian dictatorship.” Dante smirks like he’s just proven a point, but it’s lost on me, and I glare back.
“Your point?”
“She lied to protect her father, Killian.” Dante rises and moves towards the fireplace, flicking it to life with a simple push of a button. “She didn’t lie to hurt you or to deceive us. She lied to protect her father, someone she loves dearly. He used her as nothing more than a bargaining chip, but she covered for him because she’s loyal to those she loves. We can’t fault her for that.”
“I can,” I mutter darkly, eyeing the flames that blaze into life. They flicker almost in time to my pounding heart, and I grind my teeth together as Dante continues.
“She isn’t Blair,” Dante says, and my head jerks back up immediately, glaring at him.
“She didn’t lie because she had a plan. She didn’t lie to weasel into or out of something. She lied to protect someone, and ithurtsyou because you know that. Probably because it reminds you of what Blair put you through, but she isn’t Blair.” Dante steps away from the fireplace, stopping just short in front of me and dropping down until we are at eye level. I’m reminded suddenly of Dante soothing me after an earful from our father as children. Ever the protective big brother.
I wonder if I have a concussion.
“You care about her. And that’s okay. I’m sorry this has hurt you,” Dante says, “but be careful how you judge her. We definitely aren’t angels with the secretswekeep. The shit we did to earn father’s favor?” He scoffs slightly and lifts a hand to my shoulder, squeezing gently.
Retaliation rises like bile in my throat, hot and unyielding. I want to tell him he’s wrong.
He doesn’t know what he’s talking about; he doesn’t know how deeply this hurts. He doesn’t understand.
But the words don’t form. Instead, I stare at him in silence until he stands, and then, suddenly, I can breathe again. The smothering restriction of my clothes fades as Dante retakes his seat.
He’s right.
He talks sense in such an irritating way that the heated urge to lash out at him rises, but other than curling my fist into a ball, I say or do nothing. He doesn’t deserve to be the subject of my ire.
Her lie has secured the Italian and Irish families and stopped me from making an irreversible mistake when it came to Callahan.
She didn’t lie to hurt me, not intentionally, at least. She was just being a loyal daughter. Protective of those she cares for.
I tip my head back into the seat and gaze up at the ceiling, chewing briefly on my lower lip as the crackling of the flames replaces the silence between us.
At this rate, I owe Cara an apology too.
“I hate you,” I mutter and Dante smiles easily.
“I love you too.”