Page 110 of Dance of Thorns

My wife.

My WIFE.

Obviously, I posted bail to get her the fuck home. And now she’s sitting on the couch in my living room, still in her wedding dress. Her makeup is smudged, and her eyes look hollow. Her hair, which was up in a really pretty creation for the ceremony, has fallen down, framing her face in pink and blonde.

Shestilllooks stunning.

She always has, of course. Always was gorgeous. But there’s something about the monsters and the bitterness she’s battled over the last seven years that have turned her from a pretty girl into a beautiful woman.

Like the pain and the destruction made her defiant and fierce.

…Even if she doesn’t look like either of those right now.

Taylor’s here with Fumi, an equity partner at Crown and Black who also happens to be the wife of Gabriel Black, the founding partner turned Governor. She and Taylor are talking quietly near me. I’m not listening, though. I'm looking at my wife. My dad is kneeling in front of her, patting the back of her hand as he murmurs what I’m guessing are comforting words.

He’s good at that, in a way I don't know that I am.

I watch as my bride throws her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s all she’s ever needed. A family that gave a shit. Love. A fuckinghug. Cesare has never once given her any of that.

Dad pats her hand again and then stands. He turns and walks over to me, laying a hand heavily on my shoulder.

“I’m going to go,” he growls. “Taylor’s the best, and so is Fumi. You’re in good hands there.” His brow furrows. “Bane, if you needanything…”

“Thank you,” I murmur, pulling him in for a hug.

When he’s gone, the room goes quiet for a moment before Taylor clears her throat and takes center stage.

“Let’s start with the basics,” she says, her voice soft but still firm and confident. “The Cielo family’s private investigatordidmanage to dig up some new evidence regarding Lorenzo’s death. Dove, as you may recall, your father greased a lot of palms to speed things up when he was trying hide any connections between Lorenzo and your family, including Lorenzo's past employment as your father's chauffeur. I can also tell you that the coroner at the time, now retired, was almost certainly paid. His report was made barely a day after Lorenzo’s body was brought to him, when the process typically takes four or five.” She turns to Fumi with a deft nod.

“The autopsy report was originally sealed at the request of the Cielo family,” Fumi begins, her dark brows pinching. “They’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and objected to the entire post-mortem examination on religious grounds. However, Jeff Brogawski, the Cielo’s PI, was able to make an appeal on behalf of the family to the DA, claiming Lorenzo’s death was suspicious.” She arches a brow. “As you can imagine, Dove, the DA isn’t that kindly disposed toward your family, so he acquiesced. Now, the official report lists Lorenzo’s cause of death as ‘multiple gunshot wounds due to gangland violence’.”

As in, the fucker was shot about two dozen times by Cesare’s men when they crashed in the front door. Of course, they also managed to send a few rounds through a wall into the back room where Lorenzo was cookingmeth, which is what started the fire and later led to the explosion that brought the house down on top of everyone, leading to the memory loss.

“However,” Taylor takes over again, nodding at Fumi, “with the autopsy report re-opened, it’s been noted that in addition to the eighteen gunshot wounds, Lorenzo’s body was found with alaceration across his pharynx.” She glances at the rest of us. “In other words: his throat was cut.”

My brows knit. “What?”

Taylor shoots me a look. “Exactly. When the Cielo’s gave that impromptu press conference the other day, all they had was the hasty report that Cesare Marchetti almost certainly paid a state medical examiner to make, not the bit about the sliced throat. Their insane claim…” Taylor’s face crumples a little as she glances at my wife. “I’m so sorry… We have to talk about this, Dove.”

She nods, smiling weakly. “It’s fine.”

Taylor clears her throat. “Their claim that you had something to do with Ms. Peltier’s death was a Hail Mary. They’re trying to get Lorenzo’s crimes cleared by claiming he was merely cooking methamphetamine in that house, and that you, Dove, were the kidnapper and killer. Which isabsurd, and will never stand up in court. But when the media got hold of it, they misinterpreted it…as, I'm sad to say, the media frequently does…and came up with the equally insane theory that you were workingwithLorenzo.”

I suddenly realize I’m still standing across the room, not at my wife’s side where I should be.

I fix that instantly, striding over to sit beside her. My palm goes flat to the small of her back, slowly rubbing in small circles as I reach over with my other hand and take both of hers in my grip.

“What’s changed,” Fumi says, her dark eyes fixed on the two of us, “is that this PI’s re-investigation into the events of that night unearthed a piece of evidence that was deemed peripheral before—a knife, with blood on it, found at the scene near Lorenzo’sremains. Obviously, the blood was DNA tested before, and it came up as Lorenzo’s. Since theentirescene was covered in his blood—albeit, burned—investigators listed the knife as a defense weapon Lorenzo was probably holding when he was gunned down.But, with the discovery of the laceration to the throat, the Cielo family had that knife tested again.”

She glances at Taylor, who slowly turns to the two of us sitting on the couch.

“Dove,” Taylor says quietly. “They found a second set of DNA in the new test. It’s badly degraded, but it would be admissible in court.”

Her gaze flits to me, then drags back to my wife.

“That second set of DNA isyours.”