Page 57 of Thorns of Death

Beep.Beep.Beep. More messages coming through. Laughing emojis. Rolling eyes emojis.

I typed back.

Y’all are acting like damn horny teenagers.

Reina chimed in next.

Damn straight. It was more fun back then.

Raven’s message followed.

Your artistic ass doesn’t know how to snoop. You might as well give it up. Let’s focus our energy on the Italian daddy.

My brows furrowed. What did that have to do with anything?

What the fuck are you? A businesswoman with a paintbrush? And fuck the goddamn Italian daddy.

Phoenix was next.

Now we’re talking. Give it to me, Daddy.

My mouth just about dropped. That, coming from Phoenix, was unheard of. Maybe she was horny as fuck.

Athena didn’t help with her next message.

Sign me the fuck up. I’ll give some to Daddy Marchetti.

It wouldn’t be complete without Raven’s wiseass comment.

Yeah, you’ll give him a fucking heart attack.

God, they behaved like immature teenagers sometimes.

Y’all are acting like horny hoes.

Well, that got the emojis going. Eggplants. Bananas. Donuts (I had no fucking idea what that meant). Smiling devil. Peaches (I knew what that meant).

Another buzz signaling yet another message, and I seriously considered just muting the chat. But it was a message from Reina.

Forget those hoes, Isla. Let’s get serious and focus. Every man has a secret compartment where he hides shit. Crawl under the desk and check every surface.

It was how I found myself on my knees underneath my brother’s stupid desk, trailing my fingers along every nook and cranny. Until I felt something. My heart sped up.This could be it,I thought.

Gently, I applied pressure against the slight indentation, and a compartment opened with a lightbzzzznoise.

I grabbed my phone and typed a message back.

I found it!

My phone vibrated against the hardwood floor as messages started pouring in, but I ignored them all. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the neatly stored, suspiciously thin folder, and opened it.

It was a birth certificate. For Louisa Maria Cortes. My brows furrowed. Could it be—

A sharp gasp left me. Could this be my mother’s birth certificate? My eyes skimmed over the document, memorizing names. Kian Perez Cortes Sr. Maria Cortes. I murmured their names, testing them out on my tongue. I’d have to look them up. Then I remembered. Duh, my phone. It was then, even in my frazzled state, that it occurred to me to take a picture of it. I quickly snapped a few, then put it back where I found it.

I trailed my fingers around the secret compartment, hoping to find anything else. Another document.

“There it is!” I exclaimed to the empty room, feeling another document under my fingertips.