Page 154 of Thorns of Death

I let out a sardonic breath. “Try, please.”

He nodded. “I will, but no promises. I don’t like to see you hurt.”

He’d have to get used to it. I had a feeling life in the underworld was full of pain, but as long as I had my family, I’d be able to bear it all.

“Tell me about my mother,” I murmured. “How do you know we’re siblings if she was—”

God, I couldn’t say the word. I couldn’t even think it.

“Simple,” he answered, still gripping my hands. “I don’t care if you’re my biological sister or not. You are my family. It didn’t matter to me. You were born under my roof. I helped your mother during her pregnancy and during labor. Youaremy sister and nobody will ever take that from us, so help me God. Certainly not any fucking DNA.”

I wouldn’t have understood that a month or two ago. But now I did. Only because of Enrico and the boys.

“Fair enough,” I murmured, surprising him judging by his expression. “And why… why did you kill her?”

That same expression I saw in the video flashed in his dark eyes before he quickly masked it. “That I cannot tell you.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“Isla—”

“No, Illias,” I protested, yanking my hands from him. “I need to know.”

“Please don’t ask it of me. Every fiber of me screams to protect you, and you’re asking me to hurt you.”

My shoulders slumped. I suspected it. I feared it even. I didn’t want to think about it, yet how could I not, when the evidence was right in front of me?

“She didn’t want me,” I muttered, resigned. “D-did she try to kill me?” He didn’t have to say anything. The answer was written all over his face. But the tiny flicker of hope refused to be extinguished. I needed to hear those words spoken out loud. “Please, Illias. Tell me everything. My mind is conjuring the worst possible scenarios.”

He squeezed my fingers tightly. It was evidence of his own discomfort. “I’ll tell you everything and anything else, but I cannot tell you this.” My gut twisted. “Just know that if her circumstances had been different, she would have loved you. She was battered, tortured, and went through who knows what before Father brought her home. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Not for herself and not for you.”

“What happened to Father?” I asked softly, pausing the topic of my mother. My mind was racing left and right, wanting to know how it was all connected. “He killed your mom.”

A dark expression passed my brother’s face. “I killed him.” Somehow it didn’t surprise me. “He was about to hurt your mother again and I’d had enough. She was pregnant with you, and something about that made me snap. I couldn’t allow him to rape her anymore. So I ended him.”

I let out a heavy sigh. There were so many secrets in our family. “He didn’t care whether I lived or died,” I murmured.

“Maybe, but your mother would have if she hadn’t been so mentally and physically abused. I could see it in her eyes. In your eyes. She would have loved you if life hadn’t beaten her so badly.”

Would have, but didn’t. “Who named me?” I heard myself ask. Mothers that love their children name them. Enrico named Amadeo when he was born because Donatella refused to acknowledge him.

A heartbeat of silence. Judging by the dark expression on his face, he was about to lie to me, but then decided against it. “I did. I held you when you were born. I saw your first smile. Your first steps. Your first tooth. You are as much my child as you are my baby sister. I might not have given you life, but I raised you.”

“You’re wrong, Illias,” I croaked. Illias’s gaze found mine. “You did give me life.”

My mother wouldn’t have burned down the world for me. She would have burned the world down with me in it. It turned out the answer hurt worse than I could have imagined. Her life was cut short, but somewhere deep down I knew she would have loved me if she had been given the chance. Just like Illias said.

Then Tatiana’s words flitted to my mind. She had found a reason to move on and so would I.

My family. My girlfriends. My husband. Those were my reasons.

FIFTY-SIX

ISLA

Four Weeks Later

Iwoke up cradled against a warm chest, strong arms wrapped tightly around me.