Page 104 of Tide of Treason
“You should say something,” I goaded.
“You should do something,” I spat, because action was easier than forgiveness.
“You should stop looking at me like you’re sorry,” I snapped, because guilt never saved anybody worth loving.
Calm as moonlit water, Kayla slid the gun back into the drawer. Theclickechoed with finality. “You get one breakdown. That was it. That was the breakdown.”
I dragged my palm across my mouth, eyes burning. “A breakdown.”
“Yeah.”
“One per . . .?”
She paused, thoughtful, as though the rules of engagement mattered. “Marriage.”
I stared, letting silence bleed into the cracks of the room until my chest felt crushed by its own emptiness. Christ, if those were her terms, I’d need two or three more wives just to make it through the week.
Her eyes narrowed in a way that promised if I tried walking down an aisle with anyone else, I’d never make it past the church doors.
“Come here,” she ordered softly.
I was already there. Even so, I closed that last inch and felt her breath graze mine. Warm. Narcotic. Forehead to forehead, she siphoned off the rage. Kayla robbed me of momentum just by breathing. I hated her for that power, even as my starving lungs begged for another drag of air she’d warmed between us.
Something about that moment had the entire road map unspooling behind my eyes: her stomach swelling under my palm, Sergius choking on his own bitter blood, one marital knot cut while another tightened. Since damnation was inevitable, I’d choose my inferno wisely. One with endless eyes and her heartbeat drumming beneath mine, day after day, night after mercilessnight.
30 | Kayla
30 years old
Present day
The Virgin Marystared down at me from her stained-glass perch, all mournful-eyed and virtuous, as if she hadn’t once been fifteen and pregnant.
I gave her a dry smile and crossed my legs.
We all knew Sophia was too old to be baptised, but Papà had insisted the church re-do it, something about original sin not being thoroughly scrubbed the first time. A joke, probably. Except with him, it was hard to tell. The man spoke in riddles and commandments, doled out in the same breath.
Sin wasn’t something to be cleansed; it was something to be curated.
Displayed when convenient.
Hidden when not.
The five-year-old had already pulled the flower girl’s hair, whispered a colorful string of profanity mid-sermon (a direct quote from Francesco, obviously), and tried to baptise her Barbie in the holy water. Her curls bounced as she skipped down the aisle post-ceremony, high off stolen communion wafers and the thrill of near-sainthood.
Mamma caught my eye. Gave me that stern look. You know the one.Fix it,she seemed to say, as if I’d forgotten Sophia was my niece. I reached for my bag of bribery. A single ring pop and a packet of grape gummies. Sophia took both, slapped the pop onto her thumb, tasted it once, then deemed it “mid.”
I gave birth to sarcasm in this family, and now it was multiplying, running wild through the pews in the shape of small, unbothered girls.
“Mid,” I repeated under my breath. “You’re five. Your palate is Cheerios and crumbs.”
Ignoring me, Sophia popped another gummy.
Viviana had attended, kissed my cheek, and left. Said she had to pick up a hamster. I wasn’t mad. Not really. Just . . . unsettled. Petso was thirty minutes from the church and my sister had worn lip gloss to pick up wood shavings and rodent chow. I also wasn’t an idiot. Lip gloss was for girls trying to look kissable. And Viviana hadn’t fluttered for anyone since the first time she tasted Evelyn in the backroom of the pet store, probably while restocking chew toys.
Behind me, the church doors groaned open. Sunshine filtered through, painting the stone floor in soft gold. I turnedmy head. Papà stood at the bottom of the steps, one hand in his coat pocket, the other gesturing to something above. The clear sky, I realised with amusement, leaning back in the pew and watching the two men who ruled my life speak in cryptic meteorology.
Pressure built beneath my ribs, the same one that started throbbing ever since Lucius pinned me behind him in a grocery aisle while bullets tore through caffeine and canned peas. It lived there now. That pressure.
