Page 3 of Hidden Empire

“I can’t be here,” the social worker lady rasps. My head whips toward her, having forgotten she was even here. She’d looked so young and hopeful when she first came in, and now she just looks haunted. “I’ll inform our office that Jade is being placed with her father. I saw nothing else.”

With only a nod from Brian she rushes out of the house like she’s on fire.

It happens quickly after that—the cover-up. Brian puts me in the back of his cruiser and radios for an ambulance, calling it in as a possible robbery. He mutters some low code that I can’t decipher, but I’m too numb to ask what it means.

I assume he’s driving me to the police station or somewhere for my mysterious father to come get me, but I don’t bother asking. I just breathe, staring blankly out of my window as the sun begins to set.

When we stop for gas, I know we haven’t been driving long. So, he either had a low tank to begin with or knows he needs more for the drive. Either way, I don’t let him clean my knuckles when he offers. Instead, I tuck my hands into my lap with a silent shake of my head.

They hurt, but I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want anyone to touch me. I don’t even want me to be touching me.

He curses, grumbling about having his ass kicked for leaving me bleeding, but he doesn’t press further. I don’t change my mind. I’m hardly bleeding, it’ll dry up before we arrive. I think.

It’s just little breaks in your skin, I tell myself. Nothing that can’t wait. Maybe you can sit in the shower, and they’ll clean themselves.

Sunset shifts into the early night sky, and still I stare out the window. Lights flicker as we speed by, houses slowly becoming less frequent. More trees fill the scenic route instead.

Brian tries to talk to me multiple times, asking if I’m alright, but I’m only able to offer mumbles in return. I’m not sure if I’m alright or not, but I don’t have any complaints he can help me with. Unless he can go back to the day of my birth and alter the entire trajectory of my impending life.

“We’re almost there,” he tells me, making his voice low and gentle. “I’m going to have you wait in the car when we arrive. It won’t be long, though, alright?”

My stomach twists at the thought of being alone. “Where?” Where are we going? I need to hear the words.

He sighs. “Your fath—Dante’s house. It’s guarded heavily, you’ll be safe in the car. I just need to speak with him before he sees you. Okay?”

Preparing him for the mess that is me. Great.

I shrug even though my heart aches. “Okay.”

When the car rolls to a stop, I blow out a tired breath and take in the view around me.

Chapter 2

Dante

“Capo, we have a situation.”

I hold back a deep sigh, along with the urge to throw my steak knife at Beto. He’s one of my best guards, but right now, I’m not sure that my temper cares. It’s the first Sunday dinner in months I’ve been able to schedule perfectly to get all of my sons here together.

“Unless someone is dead, I don’t want to know about it.”

“You definitely want to know about it,” the responding voice doesn’t belong to Beto.

“You were supposed to stay put, pig,” my guard seethes, turning to the uninvited guest with a hand firmly planted on the pistol brandishing his hip.

Officer Brian is definitely not someone who I’ll allow to ruin my evening. But even I can admit I’m curious. Why the fuck is he in my house?

“Like I want to fucking be here,” he grits out sarcastically. “Drove fucking three hours because I knew if I didn’t come right away, my head would be on a spike.”

All nine of my sons seem to perk up at the mention of heads on spikes, pulling their attention to the cop in the entryway of our dining room.

I don’t even get to demand he tell me why he’s here before he opens his mouth again. At least he’s smart enough to waste less of my time by talking as quickly as possible.

“Any chance you happen to know a Kim Donovan, Dante?”

“You interrupted Sunday dinner to ask him about a woman? Jesus, I’ll go sharpen the spike,” Matteo jokes. My youngest finds humor in everything.

“I might know the name,” I answer vaguely, sizing him up. “Why?”

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