Page 97 of Ruthless Redemption

“It’s okay. I promise.” I paste on a half-hearted smile. “I trust that you’ll allow me to end the ceasefire at a moment’s notice if I change my mind.”

His shoulders straighten. Stiffen.

I know he’s thinking about the most important word in my statement—trust.

He’s earned it, at least a little, after almost killing his brothers to protect me.

“You heard her.” He leans in, planting a smacking kiss to my lips, before swinging back to my enemies. “You’ve got one chance. So make it good.”

Salvatore relaxes. “Where do you want to do this?”

“Inside.” Matthew points his knife toward the stairs. “Lead the way.”

Salvatore starts for the house, his injured shoulder hanging low while Remy limps a few feet behind.

I wait until they’re halfway to the front door before I step away from my human shield to grab the Glock from the ground, then the magazine. I load the gun as Matthew watches, then shove it into the back of my jeans.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks. “You’ve already been through enough.”

“We both have. But if what they’re insinuating is true, I want all the details. Who knows? Maybe they’re innocent.”

“It’s been years, Layla.” His brows furrow. “If they weren’t willingly complicit with Emmanuel’s actions, then they were weak for far too long.”

“You’re right. But I know what that weakness feels like, because I was someone who did horrible things in the hopes of my father’s love, not realizing the cost until it was too late.”

His eyes harden. “You’re not like them.”

“That’s beside the point.” I grab his hand and entwine our fingers. “We need to hear them out.”

“They don’t deserve your kindness,la mia stella polare.”

“Maybe not. But you do.” I bring his knuckles to my lips. “The truth will set us free, right?”

He falls quiet, his thoughts loud behind his piercing stare.

I hear his affection through the silence. His adoration. His concern.

“Come on.” I tug him toward the house. “I’ll find Bishop while you organize first aid supplies.”

“First aid supplies?” He scoffs, following along beside me. “Now you’re just being soft. They’re fine. I stayed away from arteries and the blade is small.” He holds it up in front of me. “Barely big enough to require a Band-Aid.”

I chuckle at his immunity to carnage. “Humor me. I don’t want to be left cleaning up a blood trail. And besides, we can’t get their side of the story if they bleed out.”

He pauses before the bottom step, his brothers already poised at the front door.

“Whatever you say,mia dea.” He kisses me softly. Warm lips and gentle affection from such a brutal man. “But just so you know, they’re probably going to need a lot more than a first aid kit once Bishop gets hold of them.”

We continue inside and part ways in the living room.

His brothers approach the kitchen sink. Matthew heads for the bathroom. I hustle downstairs to pause on the bottom step.

The silence is eerie. Unsettling. “Bishop?”

A smothered yell carries from a nearby room. Then a clatter of furniture.

“I’m coming.” I jog toward the sound and stop in the doorway to a darkened bedroom, the curtains closed and bathing the room in shadow.

I flick on the light, illuminating Bishop, bound to a wooden chair by thick, grey electrical tape.

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