Page 74 of Unforgiving Queen
I jutted my chin in the direction of the place we called home.
“We’ll have to go in eventually.” Dante’s eyes dropped to my forearm, which was still black and blue from Father’s last beating. He wasn’t in much better shape himself. Father hired a professional to teach us how to fight—more accurately, how to beat us up and call it “training.”
Unease slithered down my spine. If our mother weren’t around, we’d have already run. But as it was… our options were limited. She refused to leave him.
I faced him fully and studied his expression. He was Father’s spitting image, but I knew he couldn’t be more different underneath it all. As I stared at my brother’s bruise lurking underneath the collar of his shirt, I could only hope he stayed that way. I didn’t want Father infecting him with his brand of evil.
“Are you really in a rush to get another beating?” I winced at his words. At this point, there wasn’t an area on my body that had been left untouched. Except for my face. Father didn’t like the world to know how deep his cruelty ran. “If you’re so eager, we could have a match here.”
He flipped me off and turned his attention to the sea. Sometimes its beauty was the only thing we had. “At least it’ll be a fair fight between us,” he grumbled. “Father doesn’t fight fair.”
He didn’t. Never had and never would.
“It won’t always be like this.” He nodded wordlessly.
My eyes traveled over the water’s sapphire surface. “We can’t wait until we’re eighteen, we need to start laying the groundwork now. He’s been beating us anyway, so we might as well use him to kickstart our own empires. He’s been busy chasing his mistresses and sampling women in his brothels, he wouldn’t notice a few thousand going missing here and there.”
Dante looked skeptical, but he didn’t disagree with me. He understood it was about survival. Control. Power. I would just need to come up with a plan he’d get on board with.
“All fixed up.” The doctor’s voice jolted me out of the memory. “Congratulations on the win.”
The win. What a fucking joke. I’d made ten million euros in blood money trying to forget my fucked-up upbringing and the ghosts that haunted me. Was I any better than those human traffickers?
I glanced over my shoulder to ensure the knife didn’t cut into my tattoo. My yin and yang. It matched the one on my bracelet, wrapped around my wrist.
I met the old man’s dark eyes under his bushy gray brows. “Thank you.”
Without further ado, I got out of there.
Twenty minutes later, I entered my darkened penthouse.This fucking place.
My feet were heavy as the door shut behind me, leaving me alone with the one ghost I never bothered to chase away. The woman with golden curls haunted me, and I invited the pain it caused.
A gasp reached my ears before I had the chance to whirl around. Standing with a hand over her mouth stood my mother, and for once, she wasn’t in a pink kimono. Instead, she sported black slacks and a crimson blouse.
“Are you okay? Why are you bloody?”
I lowered my eyes robotically to find my shirt stained with blood. The bandage needed changing.
“I’m fine.” I looked her over again. “What’s with your shit? No kimono?”
There were only a handful of times I’d seen my mother not wearing one. Western clothes were never her first choice.
“No kimono.”
Whatever. I didn’t have the patience for her tonight. Hiroshi would alert me if some shit was going on.
“How did you get in?” I’d had all my locks changed. I didn’t want anyone—family or not—entering my space without my permission.
“I picked the lock.” She chewed on her bottom lip, every breath she took pushing me toward annoyance and anger. The earlier fight should have offset these feelings a bit longer, but seeing my mother here—remembering how she gave Dante her blessing to marry Reina—had red drenching my vision.
“It’s not a good idea for you to be here.”
“Dante’s getting married.” Her voice turned brittle. “You have to be there for him. It’s time to make a move on your cousin.”
I started to sidestep her, but she blocked me, her next words piercing an invisible knife into my chest. “She’s not yours to have, Amon.”
“You need to go.” There was an edge of warning in my voice that my mother clearly missed because she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Unless you’re ready to tell me the truth, I want you out of my home.”
