Page 24

"No?" Stefano steps closer. Even in the bar's dim light, I can see how his eyes have gone cold. "Then you won't mind explaining exactly what you were discussing. In detail. At my club. Tomorrow morning."
It's not a request. All three men scramble to their feet, mumbling apologies and practically tripping over each other to get away. In any other situation, it would almost be funny.
Tony tries to stand and nearly falls. I catch him, staggering under his weight. He's grown so much lately. He’s not my little brother anymore, but not quite a man either. He’s caught in between, just like me.
"Easy," Stefano says, moving to Tony's other side. Together, we get him mostly upright. "Car's right outside."
"Don't need help," Tony mutters, but he's leaning heavily on us both. "Don't need anything. Just wanted...wanted to know..."
"I know," I say softly, heart breaking. Because I do know. I know what it's like to have questions that keep you up at night. To wonder if there was more to our parents' accident than we were told. To feel like the answers are just out of reach.
But I also know the price of asking the wrong people those questions.
We manage to get Tony outside, the cool air making him shiver. Or maybe that's the alcohol leaving his system, and reality starting to creep in. Either way, he seems smaller suddenly. Younger.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles as we reach the car. Then his eyes widen like he's just remembered something important. "Oh! And I'm sorry 'bout the other thing too. Y'know, the thing with the Fi?—"
I clamp my hand over his mouth so fast I nearly smack him. "The fitness center! Yes, Tony, I know you skipped your gym sessions this week. We'll definitely talk about your...exercise habits... tomorrow."
Stefano raises an eyebrow at the obvious save, but Tony's already distracted by trying to count the stars, crisis narrowly averted.
"Pretty stars," he slurs, slumping against the car door. "Spinning stars."
"It's okay," I say, smoothing his hair back while my heart races. "We'll talk about everything tomorrow."
Stefano opens the back door, helping me get Tony situated. As I'm buckling him in, because he's definitely not coordinated enough right now, he grabs my hand.
"They said...said Dad was working on something big. Before. Said maybe that's why—" His voice cracks.
"Shh." I squeeze his hand, fighting back tears. "Not now. Sleep."
He's out before I close the door, exhaustion and alcohol finally winning. I stay there for a moment, forehead pressed against the cool metal, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
A warm hand settles on my back. "Ava."
"Don't." My voice shakes. "Please. I can't...I can't do this right now."
Stefano doesn't push, just guides me around to the passenger side. But I feel his eyes on me, see the questions building. Questions I can't answer without bringing everything crashing down.
Tony's not the only one being used to dig up old secrets. Maybe the Fioris knew exactly what they were doing, sending me to spy on Stefano.
Maybe we're all just pawns in a game I'm starting to realize I never understood at all.
The drive back is silent except for Tony's occasional mumbling in his sleep. I keep twisting in my seat to check on him, though I'm not sure what I'm looking for.
Signs of alcohol poisoning? Proof he's still breathing? Evidence that my little brother is still in there somewhere, under all the anger and hurt?
"He'll be fine," Stefano says quietly, reading my thoughts. "Just needs to sleep it off."
"Will he?" I turn around, staring out at the passing streets. Everything looks different in these pre- dawn hours—softer but somehow more dangerous. Like the city is holding its breath. "Because from where I'm sitting, nothing about this is fine."
Stefano's hand finds mine again, and this time I don't pull away. Can't. I need the anchor too much. "Talk to me, Ava."
"About what?" Bitter laugh. "About how I'm failing him? About how he's turning into exactly what our parents were—reckless, self-destructive, too smart for his own good?" My voice cracks. "About how I promised to give him a normal life, and instead he's getting drunk with mob enforcers?"
"You're not failing him." Stefano's thumb traces circles on my palm, the touch grounding me. "You're keeping him alive. Safe."
"Am I?" The tears I've been fighting start to fall. "Because it feels like I'm just...treading water. Barely keeping our heads above the surface while everything tries to drag us under."