Page 47 of Sunrise Malice

I flinch and look over. Grandpère’s standing nearby, watching me. “Just handling some business.”

He smiles thinly, his dry lips pressed flat. “You always were a vicious creature, Julien. You pretend that you have a heart, but I know the truth. I remember what you were like before I took you in.”

“I was a child living on the street.”

“You were a ruthless, cunning little thing. Why do you think I picked you of all the orphans in Marseille?”

That’s a question I’ve asked myself a thousand times. Why me? What was it that drew Grandpère to me?

I’d never heard of him until the day he cornered me in a crowded subway car. I was trying to pickpocket an old lady standing near the door and Grandpère only smiled and nodded his approval as I shoved the wallet into my jeans. I figure he was just some crazy, doddering old lunatic, but then he followed me, and chased me, and cornered me in an alley. Instead of calling the cops, he offered me a job.

My life changed after that day. I worked for Grandpère for six months before he officially took me into his house and gave me a purpose. I loved him like the trees love the sun, and I hated him just as much. He was always harsh, always bitter and demanding and cruel, but without him I would’ve been nothing but a street rat.

He gave me everything.

“I do what I have to do,” I say finally and turn to leave. “But I have business now.”

“Speaking of business, I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made, although I hear Dusan has gotten the better of you so far. I have no doubt that you’ll find your footing soon.”

Anger sparks in my chest. I turn on him and step close in the dim light of the back hall. Grandpère doesn’t seem afraid; despite his age, he’s still a large man with a barrel chest and broad shoulders.

“I want you to understand something. I blame you for this. My wife was in danger because of a war you started, and I will never forget that. Do you understand?”

Grandpère’s smirk drives me fucking crazy. “Good, you’re angry. Make sure you direct that anger into something productive, Julien. Don’t lash out at me like a child.”

“I am not being a child. My wife’s friend is in the hospital. If I hadn’t been there—” I can’t even finish that sentence. Brianne would be lying in the morgue right now, her body cold and riddled with bullet holes.

“Maybe that’s the wake-up call you needed. Maybe now you’ll take this conflict seriously.”

That motherfucker. “If you weren’t the head of this organization, I’d kill you here and now.”

“I’m sure you’d try, and maybe one day you’ll have the balls to take a shot at me. I look forward to it. But don’t forget who I am and where you come from.”

I turn away and leave Grandpère in the shadows of the hall.

I haven’t forgotten anything. I can’t forget the beatings, the insults, the derision and the pure acidic vitriol. I can’t forget this man belittling me for half my life, and yet still wanting to make him proud.

I can’t forget any of it.

Chapter 20

Brianne

Istand in front of the full-length mirror in the huge walk-in closet and stare at myself wearing just a bra and underwear.

Bruises mottle my skin. Most of them are faded yellow; the rest will be gone in a few days. Eventually, all the evidence of what my father was doing to me will be gone, at least the scars on my body. Skin can heal, but my memories won’t disappear, not the same way.

Worthless. Useless. Selfish.

Last night was a mistake. I never should’ve let Julien see me like this and now I’m so angry and embarrassed I could cry. I was emotional and desperate and looking for a distraction, and Julien’s the perfect way to lose myself for a little while.

But that’s always been the problem.

Instead of confronting my issues, I run away from them. I pretend like they’re not happening—like with my dad—or I push them out of mind—like with Cormac.

Marrying Julien is supposed to be about getting my autonomy back.

About taking control of my life for once.

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