Page 62 of The Shadow King's Brother

Steven shifts, and my gaze catches on his hand for a split second. The missing finger. A reminder of the world we live in—the price of loyalty, of mistakes. It’s healed, but the absence is glaring.

I blink, forcing my focus back. “Broad has been circling around us this whole time. It has to be connected. We already know it’s some kind of front,” I say, glancing around the room. “But we don’t know what for or why it’s targeting us.”

My mind races, but there’s a hole I can’t fill—Nica. I grit my teeth, trying to focus, to think straight, but nothing comes.

Suddenly, an idea slams into me like a freight train.

“Gio, pull the feed from the safe house that night,” I say, voice low but edged with steel.

Gio glances up, brows drawn. “Why? What are you looking for?”

I don’t answer. My eyes are locked on Vinny. He’s fidgeting now, gaze flicking away like he’s searching for an exit that doesn’t exist.

“Who was in the woods with you?” I ask, stepping forward.

Gio, catching the shift in the air, taps into his phone. The screen glows, and grainy footage starts to roll. A shadow moves at the edge of the frame—blurry, indistinct.

I’ve seen this footage before. I thought it was a man. Some hired muscle, nothing more. I didn’t look closely. I didn’t want to look closely.

But now, watching again, something shifts.

The figure steps into the light—and my stomach drops.

The frame is lean. The movements—graceful, sharp, deliberate. Not a man. Not even close.

“Pause it,” I snap. Gio freezes the frame.

My hands ball into fists at my sides. I know that silhouette. That face. I’ve seen her before.

“She’s familiar,” I mutter, more to myself. Then I turn to Vinny, jaw tight. “Who is it?”

He shifts, slow and stiff, like the tension in the room is weighing him down. His lips twitch, but no words come.

I’m on him in an instant. The chair crashes back as I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall. The thud echoes like a gunshot.

“Who the fuck is it?” I snarl, face inches from his.

He sputters. “I—I told you. Seraphina.”

“Liar.”

His silence confirms it. My rage flares.

“Fine!” he gasps. “It’s… it’s Susan.”

I freeze.

“What?” The word is hollow.

Vinny gulps. “Susan Galli.”

Time stops. Nica’s mother.

Her name hits like a sucker punch, like something cold and sharp ripping through my chest.

Susan. Galli.

The acid taste of betrayal fills my mouth. Of history. Of lies.

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