Page 71 of Threads That Bind Us

“We barely know her.”

Aurelio clears his throat and looks to his wife, who nods.

“Clara, Gwen has proven herself over the past months. She’s kept our secrets, learned our ways, even worked on a target with Charlie,” he says, sending me a small smile that I can’t seem to return. “You’ve received the reports, the same as your mother. Even her sister doesn’t know much, and she lives with them. There’s no reason for the council to vote against her.”

Some part of me realizes Aurelio is on my side here, but my mind sticks on the wordreports. Has Charlie been…reporting on me? Without my knowledge? It’s now an effort not to shrug Charlie’s grip off my shoulder. I can feel the anger building under my skin, my short fuse already burning.

“While I appreciate Guinevere’s ability to keep her mouth shut, I’ll reiterate that we don'tknowher,” Clara emphasizes, barely sparing me a glance as she sets her gaze on her father. “Carlo may not be the next leader of this family, but his position is critical. Trusting some broke waitress because Charlie is easily swayed by a pair of good legs is irresponsible.”

Emily muttersJesucristounder her breath, but I barely hear it over Charlie’s near growl.

“You don’t speak about her like that,” Charlie says, his voice low and cutting. Clara glares at him, her expression a mix of fury and disbelief. “Shewillbe my wife, and I swear to God, Clara?—”

“What? You’ll challenge me?” Clara cuts him off with a laugh, and the sound is laced with pain and betrayal so visceral it reverberates through the room. “You think a single member of The Syndicate, much less the council, would follow you after what you’ve done? Our mother is attacked, and what do you do? You don’t sit by her bedside, think about our family, or put hardly effort into hunting down her attackers.” She points at me without looking at me, and I’m half tempted to snatch her fingers out of the air and break them. “You decide our motheris obsolete. Unable to lead. In all but her heartbeat,dead. And you find the first thing desperate enough to open its legs for you and decide you’re ready to lead us.”

Charlie’s out of his seat in an instant, Aurelio reaching out and grabbing his son by the arm to hold him back. My mouth is dry, and despite my instinct to reach for Charlie, I’m locked in my seat.

“Enough.” Lucia’s voice is clear and final, silencing the protests and arguments across the table. “Sit, Carlo. You as well, Clara.”

She’s only half out of her seat, her fingers gripping the edge of the table, but Clara sinks back down. Charlie sits as well and tries to grab my hand, but I shake it off, my pulse still pounding through my veins.

“Your love for me is fierce, daughter,” Lucia says with a soft smile, the most unguarded I’ve seen her all night. Clara’s shoulders loosen a bit at her mother’s words, and she sits more comfortably in her seat. “You have kept The Syndicate strong in my absence and proven your ability to lead us. All while sitting at my bedside, keeping me informed, briefing me even when I couldn’t speak and tell you I understood. Your faith in me is admirable.”

Clara’s expression is equally touched and smug as she glances at Charlie. His face is stone, the same look I remember from the pig farm. Compartmentalized. My heart is pounding in my throat, and I’m certain they can all hear it.

“But Charlie made the right choice.”

Clara’s mouth drops open, and everyone else at the table gapes at Lucia except Aurelio, who just holds his wife’s hand and watches her speak with admiration filling his gaze.

“I will never be the leader I was before my attack. It will be months, maybe years, before I can stand again. Being in this chair alone is a miracle.Healingwas a miracle.” She looks ather husband, and he pulls her fingers to his lips and kisses them like Charlie has done to me so many times. “It is time for the next generation of Costas to govern The Syndicate.”

“Mama—” Clara starts, but Lucia glares at her, effectively cutting her off.

“This is my final decision, Clara, and you will abide by it,” she says, and Clara’s shoulders drop as her expression shutters. “There will be a year of transition, but by next summer, The Syndicate of Fate will fall to the next generation.” Lucia turns to Charlie, her expression much softer. “Despite your sister’s insistence, I was never under the impression you had lost faith in my recovery, my son. You put The Syndicate first, as is demanded of all of us. The mark of a true leader.”

Even I hear the threat laced through those words. The room is once again silent, Clara’s deep breath the only perceptible noise.

“I am the heir,” she says, but her voice breaks at the end, and it comes out as more of a question than a declaration.

“You have been raised as such, yes,” Lucia allows, seemingly unbothered by the pain in her daughter’s voice. “But there have never been first born twins in the Costa line. There is no precedent. If Charlie is more capable of prioritizing our work, perhaps he is better suited for the role.”

Charlie stiffens in his seat next to me, likely sweltering under the glare Clara is sending his way.

“Mama, I did not intend to—” he begins, but again Lucia cuts her child off.

“I care little what your intentions were. What Idocare about is the future of our work. The children who we have pulled from the arms of traffickers. The evil we have eradicated, and the poison we’ve burned from this earth. Even as small as our impact is, it is necessary. And if my daughter isunable to correctly set her priorities, I will choose an heir who can.”

Charlie doesn’t say a word, doesn’t reach for me or react. Everyone is holding their breath, waiting for someone to break the silence. It should be unsurprising that it is again Lucia.

“Guinevere, my dear,” she coos, the maternal tone jarring compared with the way she’s spoken to her children. “I do apologize for my daughter’s spiteful words. Regardless of the way you and my son found each other, your affection is clear. And everything Charlie has told us gives us nothing but confidence that you will be an excellent partner for him, whatever role he must take.” She lifts her scarred hand and places it against her chest, giving me a look laden with empathy. “And I hope Ana’s scans come back clear. She seems like the sweetest young lady.”

There’s no threat there, nothing but care and compassion in her voice. In any other situation, this would simply be my future mother-in-law passing on her sympathies.

But all it tells me is that Charlie included Ana in his reports.

Not just her illness, buther. Her personality, her resilience.

Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe I am made for this. Maybe I’ve learned to control myself under his tutelage. Because I shove all my anger and fear down to some place in the recesses of my heart and return Lucia’s smile.