Page 121 of Bishop

“Maybe because you planned to kill him,” I snap. “What did you expect? You knew he was always two steps ahead.”

He raises his chin and relaxes back into his chair. “Well, he’s not anymore.”

I balk at his callousness. At the stupidity. “You’re wrong. He had traps in place for the sole purpose of stopping us from taking him out.”

“We’ll figure out the money issues.” Remy offers with a hint of compassion. “It’s going to be fine.”

“It’s not just about money. That might have been the threat he used to keep you in line, but my relationship with him wasn’t the same. He had different tactics. Ones that far outweighed yours.”

“We all went through hell.” Salvo screws his nose up at me. “Don’t play the victim and think whatever you experienced was the worst of it. You weren’t aware of our struggles either.”

My heart thunders with ragged beats. “I’ve never played the victim.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Salvo says.

I hide my shock, but the verbal backslap stings.

“You’d want to shut your fucking mouth,” Bishop warns from across the room, still staring out at the yard. His cold threat washes over me with a glacial chill, stealing the conversation for brief seconds.

Salvo glances from me to Remy to Matthew. “I’m getting tired of his shit. He did his job. Why is he still here?”

“Tell him, Abri.” Bishop looks imperious in his arrogant stance. A confounding force.

But I have no plans to do anything for him. Not when I’m still angry.

“I think it’s safe to assume Dad dragged you into some sort of mess,” Salvo continues. “We already know he had you extort wealthy businessmen. Married wealthy businessmen.”

My cheeks heat, my heart struggling to pump through the shame.

“Tell him,” Bishop sneers.

My throat tightens, making it impossible to speak even if I wanted to.

Bishop swings around to face me, his hard stare meeting mine. “Tell him before I kill him.”

I don’t waver under his attention. Don’t soften to his command. I let his heavy-handedness fuel me, reigniting the strength that’s been doused in ice.

“Mia cara nipote.” Lorenzo slides his hand across the table, the olive branch left stranded out of reach between us. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with Bishop, but he doesn’t make idle threats. I respectfully ask you to consider sharing your struggles so blood isn’t shed.”

Salvo shoves to his feet. “That asshole has already taken swings at me. My own brother stabbed me in the arm. And my father tried to kill me. I will not take kindly to any more threats.”

“Then maybe take the hint that nobody likes you.” Bishop glares at him.

Salvo returns the visual venom while Lorenzo, Remy, Matthew, and Layla focus on me, waiting for a white flag I don’t want to wave.

If I expose the truth, they’ll never see me the same way again. I’ll no longer get to play pretend and convince everyone I’m the confident, infallible femme fatale. I’ll lose the cloak of strength. The mask of power.

I’ll be cemented as the pathetic fool I’ve always been.

“Would you like me to wait outside?” Layla whispers. “I don’t have to—”

“No.” I shake my head. “I have as much connection to you as half the people in this room.”

Matthew winces.

“That may be true.” My uncle drags his hand back to the edge of the table. “But the distance between us isn’t from lack of trying. I fought to be a part of your life for years. Your father was a stubborn man.”

“My father was a monster,” I correct.

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