Page 51 of Wrathful King
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know who was the most wrong in that quadrangle. Papà for lying. Mamma for cheating. Amon’s mother for being a bitch. Or Angelo Leone for touching someone else’s wife.
Then something occurred to me. “Did Angelo know I was his?”
He couldn’t have. His last words to me were that Phoenix was his.
“That’s the confusing part,” he muttered, pushing his wrinkled hand through his thin hair. “When we arranged the marriage, it was between his eldest and mine.”
“Amon and Phoenix?” I rasped, something about it not sitting well with me.
He nodded. “But then he approached me and insisted we change it. To you. Except, why would he do that, knowing you’re his daughter? He was a sadistic bastard, but there’s no way he’d support incest.” My eyes bulged in shock. “Unless he knew Amon wasn’t his, although I don’t think that’s it either, because why bother making a mutually beneficial marriage arrangement for a son that isn’t yours.”
“I agree.” Angelo Leone didn’t seem the kind who’d care for an adoptive son. In order for him to go to such lengths, he’d have to truly believe Amon was his.
“Reina, Amon’s my son.” So many secrets. So many lies. So many betrayals.
Was anything sacred in the underworld?
Then a realization sunk in and my eyes widened. “You knew the entire time Amon was yours?”
“No, I only learned shortly after Angelo died. I looked into the reason for his insistence on changing the name from Phoenix to you. I didn’t find his reason, but I learned Amon was mine.” All this entanglement was giving me a headache. “When Angelo died, Dante approached me to sign off on the agreement. So I insisted that we replace Amon’s name with his. Never in a million years did I think you were Angelo’s daughter.”
My temples throbbed. It’d become a constant feeling that rarely went away, and when it did, it was to be replaced with terror.
“We really fucked up, huh? But Amon loves you. He refused to give up, gathering a rescue party, organizing the mission day in and day out.” Papà smiled through his tears. “You children will do better than us.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t want to worry him further. I could call him out on handling everything poorly—being the indirect reason for Mamma’s affair, inadvertently causing her death, not being there when Phoenix and I needed him for emotional support, and for not letting us find love on our own terms. He should have never drawn up a marriage agreement in the first place. It was barbaric and fucking wrong.
But none of it would erase what happened, and there was no sense in playing the blame game now.
“Where’s Phoenix?” I questioned, not missing the way his face fell.
“I’m going to get your grandma or she’ll have my balls.”
“You’re right about that.” Both of us turned our heads to find her standing in the doorway in all her glory. Her eyes met mine and she gave me one of her beaming, Hollywood smiles. “You sure know how to worry us, Reina.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, rising to my unsteady feet.
She shook her head and came over. “I want to live long enough to see my great-grandchildren, and I’m not sure my heart can endure anything like this happening again.”
I winced at her words and my eyes flickered to Papà, knowing he wouldn’t live to see his grandchildren. Not that I was remotely thinking about children at this point.
“Where’s Phoenix?” I asked again, but all it earned me was a sad silence. “They didn’t grab her,” I whispered, moving away from both of them. “Right?”
Grandma wouldn’t allow any space. “They did not,” she assured, rubbing my arms softly. “Don’t worry about Phoenix. She’s fine.”
The desperation and uncertainty in her voice was unmistakable. My stomach dropped. They didn’t have a fucking clue where she was. The tremors started in my toes, slithering up my body, and dug into the marrow of my bones.
Panic grew and grew until it suffocated me. It seized my body and paradise became hell once more.
“You’re lying,” I screamed, a raging storm gathering in my chest and my mind. “Where is she?”
Panic rose up, feeding me fear and hopelessness. Images of the torture I endured crashed over me, except my face was replaced with my sister’s.
The blood-curdling scream pierced my ears through the ringing. Was the sound coming from me? I watched the woman I’d become, as if from above, crouched near the floor, hands over ears, crying,No, no, no.
Then a prick. The room spun. I gasped.
Bu-bum…Bu-bum…Bu-bum.
