Page 118 of Snake

Knox

“Knox. Knox!”

I ignore the voice. I ignore the way my chest hitches. I ignore everything except walking as fast as I can without running, because if I break into a run I won’t stop until I’ve gone over the edge of a fucking cliff.

The irony.

The goddamn, fucking irony.

Here I was, telling Nim to take it easy when she was struggling to cope with today’s layer upon layer of bullshit.

That’s what you get for being a smart ass. A fucking know-it-all. You get served a big fat slice of humble pie…and have your entire world ripped out from under you as someone slaps it in your face.

World view totaled, courtesy of none other than the sadistic fuck-face, Lorenzo goddamn Pellegrino.

I crash through the Hart’s front door, turn, and spit. It’s that or fucking puke, because my mother’s—ha ha ha, Vicky’s—betrayal layers my mouth like bitter slime.

Mason catches up to me as I throw open the X7’s front door. He grabs it, making it impossible to close. “What are you gonna do?” he asks, not even out of breath the fit fuck. “Because you can run, Knox, but there’s nowhere you can go that’s far enough.”

I growl at him, tug at the door. “Let go.”

“So you scamper off with your tail between your legs, you fucking pussy?” Mason ducks down, putting his face close to mine. “So what if Vicky’s not your mom? You heard her. She loved you Knox. She loved you, and that’s more than any parent could ever—”

I charge out of my seat, shoving Mason so hard that he takes a step back. “That’s not the fucking point!” I yell. I stab a finger back to the Hart’s soulless black house. “Didn’t you hear her? Lorenzo raped her fucking sister. And she was a goddamn kid!”

I slap a hand down on my chest, giving my head a furious shake when the world starts to wobble. My tears clear, but more well up a second later.

“That’s who I am, Mason.” My voice drops, strangled by a throat that can barely hold back a sob. “It was bad enough knowing Lorenzo was my father, but this? Knowing I’m the product of rape?”

Mason grabs my shoulders. “That’s not who you are,” he says quietly. “You’re Knox. You’re the best fucking polo player Cinderhart has ever seen. You’re a legend—” he drops his voice, glancing around his shoulder and then leaning in, “—you’re a fucking legend in the sack. People love you. People care for you. They won’t see you differently. Fuck it, I don’t.”

I’m blowing like a fucking racehorse fresh off the track, my hands on my hips, leaning into Mason’s grip because I feel too punch-drunk to stand straight.

Silas arrives. Nim, a moment later.

She opens her mouth like she wants to hand out some reassuring bullshit, but thankfully she decides against it.

I had so much more to say, so much more to shout, but I feel empty now. Hollow.

Mason jerks me forward, wrapping me in a hug, and Jesus Christ I’m sure he’s going to snap my ribs like toothpicks how fierce he grips me.

But I welcome the pain. The suffocating sensation of his strength.

Because goddamn it, I need it.

I grab Nim by the arm and I pull her into the embrace, because I know she needs it too. Silas doesn’t need any coaxing. He comes willingly and of his own accord, his body creating a wall with Mason’s and mine.

Bianca has been dead for many years. I never even met her. Vicky hardly ever spoke about her, I guess just in case she let something slip.

I used to be pissed off at her with all her little secrets. I never realized how big they actually were—the icebergs that lurked beneath the black waters of Vicky Pellegrino’s soul.

I’m still pissed off as all hell, but there’s a tiny part of me that has to admire someone who is so willing to protect those that she loves.

Except for my sisters. Well, my half-sisters anyway. I hope. But no, I know they belong to Vicky, because I still remember when she fell pregnant with Mariella.

I shoulder my way out of our huddle, swiping my hand over my face and then through my hair. I look at Nim. “Still think we didn’t have any right to kill that fuck, Lorenzo?”

She stares up at me with her hypnotic hazel eyes, face slack, shoulders slumped. Then she shakes her head, tears building on her lower lashes before she blinks them out of her eyes.

“Not even a little,” she whispers. “In fact, I’m wondering what the hell took you so long.”

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