Page 40 of Stone

I wave my hand. “What-the-fuck-ever. So why does my family want him dead?” I tilt my head toward his brother, then I right my chair and slide into it.

Personality holds his hand up. “We haven’t finished the topic we were discussing.”

I balk at his odd behavior, but he ignores me and continues. “Considering your refusal to accept the research I configured”—he motions toward the folder—“I’ll enlighten you further.” I roll my eyes, allowing him his moment to shine. “Don O’Connell must have been informed by emergency services that you were still alive. That message was never passed on to us. We grieved your death.” He steps forward, and his eyes analyze mine. “Our mother grieved the death of her youngest boy.” All I hear is the name like acid on his tongue.

“Did you say Don?”

He rears back.

“Yes. Our uncle. Ours and yours.”

“He was my uncle?”

“That is correct.”

“You killed him?”

“Not me personally, but one of my brothers.”

I sit forward, suddenly seeing these men in a different light. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Jesus Christ. I thought you said his medical records didn’t show too much brain damage?” the leader chimes in.

“Don’t be so fucking obtuse; it’s a lot for him to take in,” he snides back.

“He has a lot to take in?” He wafts his hand out in front of him. “He’s fucking alive and sitting there and acting like he doesn’t know us.”

“He doesn’t,” Personality snaps back, and I want to high-five him for siding with me.

But I’m pissed because they’re talking about me as if I’m not here, just liketheydo. Like I’m meaningless and don’t exist.

“We’re the O’Connell family, descendants of an Irish Mafia family. This is Bren, your oldest brother and current don, and I’m Oscar, the intelligent one.”

I ignore all the other shit he said and latch onto the important part. “Mafia?”

“Yes. Much like the one you were taken to, but we aren’t…” He drags a calculated finger over his lip as he studies me.

“Sick sons of bitches that destroy innocent women and children,” the leader, Bren, finishes.

Personality’s jaw sets, and he closes his eyes, almost as if giving himself a timeout, then reopens them with a steely determination. “Thank you, Bren. What my brother is trying to say is, we’re a Mafia family who doesnotdabble in the skin trade.”

My eyebrows furrow. “You don’t do auctions?”

Bren’s face turns bright red, and I feel his anger radiating from him.

“No,” his brother answers for him.

“What about compounds?”

“What the fuck do you know about goddamn compounds?” he roars, forcing me to rear back.

Oscar leans over the table, and his blue eyes darken as they lock with mine. “Someone once told me to step out of the shadows and into the light. Let us be your light, brother. Let the light guide you home.” His words send an arctic chill through my bloodstream, rendering me speechless, and I’m powerless but nod in confirmation while his words play on repeat in my mind.

“Let us be your light, brother. Let the light guide you home.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Stone

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