Page 84 of Of Lies and Shadows

The door clicks shut behind him, and then it’s just the two of us.

“I’m going to kill your father,” I say. No warning or preamble. Just the truth.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t gasp. Her face is still and controlled, like she expected this, and maybe she did.

“Okay,” she says finally, her voice steady. “Why are you telling me?”

I take a step closer, searching her eyes for something—anything—beneath the calm.

“Because you deserve the truth.”

She nods slowly, once. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that truth, Dante? Warn him? Beg you not to go through with it?”

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “Do you want me to spare him?”

Her gaze sharpens. “Would it matter if I said yes?”

I hesitate, then tell the truth. “I wouldn’t understand it. But I’d listen to your reasons.”And I’d still do it.

She folds her arms across her chest, her default shield when she feels exposed. Her eyes shift away, and I give her space, letting the silence hang between us.

Then, just when I’m about to speak again, she turns back to me.

“Do me a favor,” she says.

“Anything.”

“When you do it… if you can, do it in front of my mother.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What? As punishment?”

I could see that, sending a message to the woman who never protected her. But she shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at her mouth.

“No,” she says quietly. “As a reward. She’s endured more than anyone knows. I think she deserves to see it.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I just stand there, hands buried in my pockets, useless for once.

She nods like that’s enough. “Thank you for telling me. Your secret’s safe with me.” She turns, already walking toward the kitchen, when my voice stops her.

“I’m sorry.”

She pauses, not turning back. Just that maddening little shrug I’ve come to hate.

“He has it coming,” she says flatly. “He’s not a good man.”

“No, I’m not sorry for that.”

She turns then and really looks at me. “What else areyou sorry for?”

The words hit harder than they should. I take a breath, the truth spilling out before I can contain it.

“Take your pick. I did a lot of wrong. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance to explain. I’m sorry I saw you as the enemy. I’m sorry for how I touched you before you gave me your trust. I’m sorry for breaking something that could’ve been good. For hurting you. For turning us into a war zone before we even had a chance.”

Her expression doesn’t change. She’s the perfect mafia bride, but I know her now. I see the way her eyes tighten, the flash of something too fragile to name. Pain, disappointment, maybe even grief.

She nods once. “Thank you.”

Thank you? That’s all?

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