Page 82 of Thorns of Love

“Tell me why he had to die,” I rasped, my heart thundering in my chest. My hands shook.Fear,I realized.I was scared. I had more to lose now than ever.

“He targeted our organization,” he retorted.

“What organization?”

His eyes darted to Isla who stood still, her eyes on him. There was a flicker of fear in them and suddenly I worried whether I made a mistake. Did I pull her into something she wouldn’t be able to get out of?

“Thorns of Omertà.”Too late.I knew it was too late the moment those three words left Marchetti’s lips. “And unknowingly he dragged you into it.”

A gasp. Not mine, but Isla’s, filled the room and her complexion paled, making her eyes appear darker than I’d ever seen them.

“Why?” I asked, while something ugly reared its head from the depths of my soul. Images played in my mind. The first time I met Adrian.Hey, pipsqueak.Playing hide and seek.Why are you crying, pipsqueak?The way he handled my bullies in school.Don’t cry, pipsqueak. Boys are not worth your tears.

Did that apply here? Maybe Adrian knew all along this was where we’d end up so he made sure I remembered those words. Tears filled my eyes. They stung, needing to let loose. I bit into my bottom lip, choking on a sob.

Never show them how you feel.Those were Sasha’s words. Not Adrian’s.

“He used you to pay back the Konstantins for killing his parents.” Another gasp. Whose was it? Everything was distorted. My ears buzzed. Marchetti’s voice sounded far away. “He blamed them and the organization for losing his parents. Adrian’s father was a gardener to my old man. During his trip to New Orleans, he took him along. To study botany. It’s where he met Adrian’s mother.”

I swallowed. “Illias’ mother.” My voice was barely above a whisper, yet the words traveled through the room like an echo in the church.

His brows scrunched. “Illias’ mother?”

I waved my hand. “Never mind.”

He studied me curiously, unwilling to let it go. “You think Illias’ mother is the very same?”

My lips thinned. I didn’t have proof to support that theory. The picture he left behind was hardly proof.

“Finish your story.” Was that my voice?

To my surprise, Marchetti nodded.

“Anyhow, the gardener had a kid and left my father’s employment. Years later, he attempted to make a run for it with Illias’ mother. She tried to leave the old Pakhan, take the twins and go into hiding with Adrian’s father. It didn’t work out. They got caught and executed on the spot.”

The parking lot.I choked on a sob, but I was determined not to fall apart here. Not now. Not in front of him. I clamped my lips together to prevent them from trembling or letting out a sound that I’d regret. No weakness.

“So Adrian made you all a target as revenge for his father’s death?” Isla asked for me. Her voice was small. Her eyes shimmered like emeralds in the sun. Except they were unshed tears. Marchetti nodded. “How?”

I needed to know what was pinned on me. I needed to know how he used me. I needed to know how little I meant to him.

“He dug for information that could destroy us.” The videos of my brothers flashed in my mind. As well as videos of many other men Adrian kept on his laptop.

I shook my head. “I went through the videos on that laptop.” Bitter tears made their escape and rolled down my cheeks. I could taste them on my lips. On my tongue. “He had stuff on my brothers. Other men. But nothing on you. Or the Konstantins. Even the Yakuza.”

I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his expression before it vanished. “It’s on the chip.”

The fucking chip. Always that goddamn chip.

“Where is the chip?” I asked, tasting those stupid tears on my tongue.

He let out a sardonic breath, his frigid façade terrifying. “We all hopedyoucould tell us.”

So he didn’t have it. Illias didn’t have it. I didn’t have it. Then who did?

“The Yakuza,” I murmured. “Maybe–”

I trailed off when he shook his head. “If they had it, they’d come down demanding all our territories and give up on chasing you. They don’t have it either.”