Page 104 of The Devil's Den

Taking our time, we climb up the creaking wooden steps, reaching the bedrooms we once called ours.

No toys left scattered across the hall, nor the voice of our mother yelling for us to clean it up.

Dante pushes open the door to a room he once shared with Dom, but there are no bunk beds here anymore. It’s been replaced by a small four-poster bed with a white flowery blanket on top, pale pink walls, the only thing that reminds me of my mother and her favorite color.

“We have photos now,” I say. “We can restore our memories. Like an old painting. Make them brighter.”

Enzo throws an arm over my shoulder. “You still know how to draw?”

I chuckle, remembering all the times I did for Aida. “Of course I do.”

“You should draw us. The family. Maybe from one of the pictures.”

I close my eyes, pulling in a breath. “I think I will.”

“I want one too,” Dante adds, closing the door as we move to the room that was once Enzo’s and mine.

“Then I’ll draw one for each of us,” I tell them. “So that way, we never forget.”

“Forget what?” Dom asks.

“What it was supposed to be like.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

AIDA

The driveto my father’s home the next day didn’t take but thirty minutes, and they were the fastest thirty minutes of my life. The car is parked at the curb, my eyes paralyzed on the white door, the only thing keeping me away from meeting the man my mother was in love with. Or at least I hope she was.

Matteo’s brothers were able to show me the articles about my disappearance, my dad’s pleas to find us, offering money to get us back. As the years dwindled away, so did the trail of our existence. We were forgotten by the world, but I hope not by him.

“We can stay here for as long as you want,” Matteo says, clutching a hand around me in the back of one of Dom’s SUVs, the same driver who took us to Alison’s mother at the wheel.

“What if he hates me? What if I ruin his life by showing up?”

“No way. I don’t think any parent would feel that way. And if he says that, I’ll gladly punch him.”

A grin wraps around his face. I know he’s only half-kidding.

“I’ll be there with you every step of the way, baby. You just have to be the one to take the first step.”

My heart instantly jumps from the term of endearment. He’s never called me that before. I’ve heard his brothers call the girls that. I’m sure that’s where he picked it up, and I kinda like it. A lot.

“Okay,” I tell him. “But if you don’t open the door and get out, I never will.” My tumultuous pulse practically somersaults in my throat, drumming like the gallop of horses.

He chuckles, grabbing the door handle and pushing it open. “Let’s do this.” Exiting first, he gives me his hand, helping me climb out. Once we’re both on our feet, he continues to hold me, guiding us toward the small colonial house. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably bolt.

The heaviness of my breathing causes my entire body to break into a tremor. Without me even asking, he circles an arm around me and keeps me close, kissing my temple.

“You’re going to be great. I’ve got you.”

“I need to stop being so nervous. If he doesn’t like me, then it’s okay. At least I tried.” But that’s a lie. If he turns me away, I’ll die inside.

“I can always kill him.”

I push him with a shoulder, laughing quietly. “Don’t do that. Okay, maybe you can hurt him. A little.”

“Deal.”

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