Page 22 of Fierce Hearts

I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The house was quiet, empty. I'd always liked the solitude before—had cherished it after growing up in a household where privacy was nonexistent and silence meant danger. Now that silence pressed in on me, heavy with the weight of all that shadowed my past and my name.

My phone buzzed in my purse, and I flinched.

Ernesto.It had to be.

With trembling hands, I dug through my bag, but the name on the screen made my chest tighten. Meredith. Not my uncle.

I watched the call, unable to accept it. Not right now, not while I was still dealing with the weight of all this.

It finally ended, and a text came through a moment after.

Home safe?

A small smile touched my lips as a coldness seeped into my bones. Meredith really was my adopted family, someone who'd accepted me for who I was from the moment we'd met. Who'd become like a sister to me.

I waited a few moments before texting back.

Sorry, was in the shower. Home safe! Have fun, don't get too sore ;)

Faking happiness and cheeriness was too easy for me sometimes.

All good, and I'll do my best. Love you x

I sucked in a shaky breath as I tapped in a response.

Love you too x

I scrolled through my contacts until I found Ernesto's number. I'd kept it, though I hadn't used it in years. Just in case. Always just in case.

In case something like this happened?

My thumb hovered over his name. I should call him back. Find out what happened to Marco. Learn what he meant about me coming back. But I couldn't bring myself to press the button. Instead, I scrolled down to Marco's name.

There were no past messages, this number had been a new one I'd gotten after I'd left, but I'd added in the numbers of family for times like this. Their direct cells just for family conversations. Burner phones were for business.

In case I ever wanted to reach out or something happened.

I closed my eyes as tears burned once more.

I should've reached out to him. Thanked him more for setting me free. Told him how much he'd meant to me over the years.

"Pull it together, Sof. People die, it's part of the business." I choked out a miserable laugh, not believing my own words for a second as I hung my head.

This family was a mess of blood and power. It always had been. Very few who bore my last name lived long lives.

But it didn't make it any easier.

I pushed myself off the floor and headed for the kitchen. If Ernesto wanted to talk, he'd call again. And in the meantime, I needed to keep myself busy or I'd go insane.

I started with the dishes in the sink—just a coffee mug and a plate from breakfast the other day. I told the smart home system to blast some music in order to drown out the chaos in my mind. Then I moved on to wiping down counters that were already clean, reorganizing cabinets that didn't need it, and finally scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees until my back ached and my fingers were pruned.

Anything to avoid the swirling thoughts and questions in my brain.

When the kitchen gleamed, I moved to the living room. Dusted shelves. Vacuumed corners. Rearranged pillows. The mindless tasks kept my hands occupied, if not my thoughts.

Marco's face kept flashing through my mind. Not as I'd last seen him—serious, with hard eyes that had seen too much, ready to step in—but as he'd been when we were kids. Laughing as he pushed me on a swing. Teaching me to ride a bike in the long driveway of my father's estate. Sitting beside me at the weekend family dinners, kicking me under the table when I looked bored during Uncle Ernesto's long-winded stories.

Taking me away from the house when both my uncle and father were there, pissed over some business failing or rival family causing issues. Ever since he’d learned that they’d take some of their anger out on me, he’d started removing me whenever he could.

---