Page 35 of Dirty Behavior

Ivy

What the fuck just happened?

How could someone have so much anger towards their family?

Did he really have that hatred or was he just bred to be cold?

Sesto didn't seem like the guy Dante painted him out to be, he appeared to me like a pretty loyal brother.

Yes, he had scared the shit out of me when he appeared in the doorway, but to his credit, he hadn't realized we were here. Sesto had come to this house for the same reason we did, safety.

He was worried about Dante, he was worried about what had happened to his father. There was sadness in his eyes and pain in his expressions.

That didn't seem like the type of emotional baggage someone would carry if they ratted out all their family's dirty laundry and didn't give a shit.

Something just isn't right with that whole thing.

I could feel it. Reading people was what I did, watching and observing every minute detail of how they moved their face, wiggled their brows and held their eyes; it spoke volumes to me.

Sesto wasn't evil. He was lost, just like Dante. Both men had been raised by a tyrant, a power hungry, money enthusiast named Bane.

They were both doomed from the start.

Dante came storming back up the stairs, his nose blowing out steam like a damn bull on a cold day. He wouldn't even look at me as he walked by.

Instead, he charged over to the food Sesto had gone out and gotten for us, stuffing it all back into the bag with fierce hatred.

Dante wanted it gone, he wanted anything that could even waft the scent of his brother into his face erased. It was as if those things in some way resembled him losing another battle, despite how much we needed them.

At least I got what I really needed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress. My fingers played with a small string that separated from the rest of the seam. Twirling it around my index finger, I plucked it free.

“We're not taking his handouts, we don't need them. This shit is garbage now.” Grabbing the can of tea, he walked into the bathroom and started to dump it down the sink.

“Dante, he didn't bring that as a gesture of good faith, I asked him to go grab us some stuff. He didn't have to do it, but he did.”

Through slit lids, Dante peered at me from the dark room. Even though he hadn't turned on the light and he was standing in complete darkness, his eyes glowed from the pure adrenaline that was still running through his veins.

“Why the fuck would you ask him to get us anything? I could've done this, I could've gone out and gotten this shit.”

Tilting my head, I spoke as gentle as I could. “You've been gone all day—again.We needed some shit and you weren't here to get it. Besides, you said it yourself, it's too dangerous for us to be running around this city. Sesto went without thinking twice about it. Maybe. . .” My voice drifted into the air, losing weight and turning to dust.

There was nothing but hate in his eyes. His teeth clamped down, grinding side to side. His hands kept opening and closing by his sides, crushing the can like it was made of paper. Dante was pissed. But it wasn't at me, it was at his brother.

I had to catch myself before I made the situation worse and he tried to whisk me away and force me to forget the real reason we came back. The wrong choice of words could push him over the edge, turning our entire return here into a waste of time.

I wouldn't be swayed.

“Maybe what?”

Even if I wanted to lie to him right then, I couldn't. He was being so thick-headed about this whole thing, he wouldn't even listen to what his brother had to say. Maybe Dante had it all wrong.

What if Sesto had done him a favor?

Swallowing hard, I looked to the floor. “Maybe he's not as bad as you think. Maybe you have him all wrong.”

I heard the can clink into the porcelain glove, catching it with a loud ping. “Don't you dare.” Taking long quick steps, Dante was standing in front of me, toe to toe. “Don't you dare try and tell me what to think of my brother.”

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