Page 67 of Merciless Queen

“You know better than anyone that Serafina will never be put into harm’s way. I need her help to show Vanessa what’s really at stake. What’salwaysbeen at stake and what lies and deceit her legacy is built on.”

Madre’s still staring down the hall, shaking her head. “Pain is more than only physical, Zeno. Please don’t do this.”

I stretch my hand across the island and cover the one she has resting there. “It’ll be fine. A quick meeting and I promise to have her returned soon. Nero can bring her back so you can spend the afternoon fattening him with fresh bread and quell your worries that way.”

Baking has always been one of her coping strategies. In the initial years following her trauma, I ate more bread than I could physically choke down, but Nero, who Madre loves like a second son, could never get enough. Baker’s son and all, I suppose. My comment’s a lighthearted attempt to change the topic slightly and ease her concerns.

It works a little, and she manages a small smirk, but her frown quickly returns. “I don’t like this, Zeno.”

“You don’t have to. Just trust me.”

Madre takes another swig of water and whatever thoughts course through her mind has her tensing again. “What’s your plan with the girl?” And without taking a breath, adds, “She wasn’t even in the country at the time, Zeno. Withhimgone, maybe it’s time to let the past lie. It’s over and done with. His daughter shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions.”

“Like I said, she needs to understand the kind of man her father really was.”

“Why?” The glass clangs against the tiled countertop with her force. “What good does it do?”

Because…No reasonable answer comes to me. Not one she’ll understand anyway.

“I’m sure she has an idea of who her father was,” Madre muses. “The same as you did with yours. You loved and looked up to the man all while disliking choices he made.”

“Because those choices hurt this family.”

“And yours will do the same to Vanessa. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” She turns away, literally giving me the cold shoulder, considering the wave of chill coming from her.

Madre’s words repeat in my head as she rinses out her glass and rests it in the drying rack. My choices versus Padre’s regarding the Volkovs are completely different. Padre ripped us further apart from one another rather than supporting Madre the way she needed him to. Mine is pure revenge. Telling Madre this is pointless, though, since she made it clear years ago, she doesn’t want to hear about the Cosa Nostra’s dealings.

I get it. In many ways, they abandoned her too. Madre comes from the Costas, one of the other Five Families based in Europe, and her wedding to my father was an arrangement over thirty years ago. They all turned away from her after what happened. Although, not surprising because it’s not the first I’d heard of them abandoning one of their own in a shitty marriage.

Silence only lasts so long, and Madre faces me again, her arms crossing over her chest. “Don’t kill her, Zeno. It won’t fix anything.”

“I’m not. I’m?—”

“Ready!” Serafina’s cheerful chime enters the kitchen, her eyes darting back and forth between us. I’m thankful for the interruption. She drags in a small duffel bag behind her, dropping it by my feet. “When do we leave?”

With a parting grin to our mother, I reply, “Right now.”

Once we’re tuckedinside my car, Serafina kicks her feet up on the dash, brushing dirt over the immaculately clean leather. It makes me scowl and her chuckle, the same as every other timeshe pulls this shit, knowing full well how annoyed I get having to wipe it off later.

“Must you?”

Completely ignoring my question, she props an elbow on the centre console and twists my way. “So, what’s this actually about?”

I turn down the dark road, heading toward the main route out of Ostia. “What do you mean?”

In the dim car’s lighting, I catch her eye roll. “Z, I know you better than you think I do. You showing up at nine p.m. to take me to your place is random. Which means, you have a reason. Probably one you don’t want Madre to know about.”

Serafina might pretend to barely understand anything of life outside her cell phone, reality shows, and empty friendships, but she’s sharp as a tack.

“Maybe.” I toss a smirk her way. “You’ll soon see, we’ll leave it at that.”

She huffs. “Be more cryptic, why don’t you.”

“We’ll get back late, so head to your room. Do me a favour and stay there until Nero comes for you in the morning. Then stick with him. No wandering the mansion.”

“Well, now you’re being even weirder. Weirdo.” She angles her seat back slightly as we merge onto the darkenedautostradaand slips her phone out from her pocket. The small screen casts a glow around her, taking her away into the land of electronic social connections.

Such a silly hobby, but I appreciate how normal it is. How her experiences at eighteen versus mine are vastly different, which is everything I ever wanted for her.

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