Page 88 of Dark Truths

“The boys will play nice,” she answers before turning to give her sons a fiery look. “Right?”

“Yes,” Raphael agrees.

“I guess so,” Michael mumbles, earning a swift elbow to the side from Rose. She leans in close and whispers something in his ear, causing a small blush to spread across his cheekbones as he clears his throat. “Yes, Mom.”

Lily kisses Gabriella on the cheek, giving her a quick hug as she says, “Congratulations.”

Rose mimics the gesture and says, “I’m so glad you two worked it out.”

Alice approaches next and lightly cups her daughter’s face. There’s a question on her face that I can’t make out, but Gabriella must, because she nods. Her mother smiles softly before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “We’ll talk later.”

I look at Gabriella quizzically as they leave. “What was that about?”

“Tell you later.”

“Does she know?”

“She does now.”

I want to ask how the hell that’s possible. There’s no way a woman can just look at another and know they’re pregnant. Right? Maybe there’s some sort of connection between a parent and their child that explains it, but I wouldn’t know. Not yet, anyhow.

“Talk, Volkov,” Michael snaps, his sour mood extra sour-y now that Rose is gone. “Or is that even your real name?”

“It's not. My name is Dimitri Clark.”

“How long have you been undercover?” Dante asks. He's the only one with his gun still out, but he holds it down and pointed away. Doesn't make it less of a threat though.

“A couple of years now.”

“Were you always an FBI agent or were you an informant who switched sides?”

“I was sent undercover.”

“For what purpose?”

“To investigate Sergei Mikailhov and his connections to the High Table,” I explain, not really seeing the point in keeping anything back at this point. “That changed when we uncovered a human trafficking ring in Miami.”

“Fuck me,” Michael growls.

I’d rather not.

“What do your superiors know?”

“They know that the High Table consists of the Italians, the Irish, and the Russians, with Dante DiAngelo leading it.”

“So they know everything, then?” Raphael concludes with a curse.

“Yes, but—”

Michael lashes out and kicks at the coffee table in front of him. The force cracks the wood border and shatters the glass in the center, scattering shards on the floor.

“What the hell was that?” I hear Rose shout from somewhere in the house.

“Nothing,” Gabriella shouts back. “Just an accident.”

Dante levels his eldest with a stern and irritated look. “You will apologize to your mother and replace her coffee table.”

“Yes, Dad,” Michael agrees shamefully.

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