Page 83 of Remy

I don’t want this for her.

Not the fucking ceremony.

Not the fucking life.

“Salvatore.” Lorenzo looks to my brother. “Do you have your switchblade?”

My brother turns from the window and stalks over as he digs in his pocket.

“I’ll do it.” I hold out a hand for his weapon.

“No need. I’ve got this.” He attempts to step around me.

I block his path. “I’ll do it.”

He stares. Stares so long and hard I’m sure he knows that blade of his could soon be embedded in his abdomen if I don’t get my way.

“Fine.” He slaps the weapon into my palm. “It’s your mess.”

My mess. My mistake. My punishment.

I turn to Ollie, my gut heavy as I take in her barely masked fear. “Come here.” I want to hold out a hand, help her to her feet. Instead, I keep my free arm at my side, my expression hard.

She licks her dried lips and slowly rises to stand before me.

I grab her wrist and take the saint card from her grip.

The slight tremor wracking through her fucking kills me, her trepidation like a lead weight in my gut.

“It’s only the smallest cut,” I vow.

She blinks up at me. Trusting. Unquestioning.

I hold her gaze as I pierce the blade into the pad of her pointer finger, her wince a knife through my chest. I squeeze her wrist tighter, forcing strength.

She smashes her lips tight. Breathes deep through her nose.

Such a phenomenal fucking woman.

Blood wells as I dump Salvatore’s weapon on the desk, then guide her pierced finger to hover over the face of Saint Catherine, allowing the blood to drip to the card.

“As your blood mingles with the saint’s grace,” Lorenzo states, “so shall you bind your loyalty to our family.” He pulls a cigarette lighter from his pocket.

“No,” I snarl.

“It will be quick, figlio. Give her the card.”

I can’t fucking do it.

“Figlio,” Lorenzo warns.

“It’s okay.” Ollie takes the card, holding it between her pierced pointer and thumb.

Her drops of blood slide down Saint Catherine’s angelic face as Lorenzo leans in, igniting the lighter with a grated flick, then holds the flame to the bottom corner of the card, a mere inch from her fingertips, and waits too many fucking seconds for the blaze to take hold.

“Repeat after me.” Lorenzo’s accent lingers. “I swear allegiance to this family, with loyalty thicker than blood.”

“I swear allegiance to this family.” Her voice shakes as the flame builds, burning closer to her skin, the radiant heat no doubt scalding. “With loyalty thicker than blood.”

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