Page 108 of Thorns of Blood
Only a few months ago, that word wasn’t part of her vocabulary, and now it rolled so naturally off her lips. It would seem blood and biology certainly prevailed, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to be sad about it. I loved Amara and I wanted her to be happy, cherished, and adored. To have the life she was meant to from the moment she took her first breath.
I was aware of Killian’s and Emory’s attention, but I forced myself to avert my gaze and focus on the DiLustro gang.
“I’m assuming you know everyone,” Emory remarked.
“I knowofthem,” I said.
Basilio DiLustro and his wife—Olympic ice skater, Wynter. Coincidentally, Wynter was my mother’s grandchild. No, great-grandchild. It was hard to track Sofia Volkov’s family tree.
Dante DiLustro, Basilio’s cousin, stood beside them with his own wife, Juliette, who was Killian’s sister. It was rumored among the criminals that she killed my father, Edward Murphy. He used to be the head of the Murphy Irish mafia. He was also the man who abandoned my twin and me to Sofia and Ivan Petrov.
Good riddance,I thought.
There was no room in this world for men who abandoned their children.
On the other side of Basilio was Priest, but he was of no interest to me. Instead, all my attention was on his wife. Ivy DiLustro, maiden name Murphy. Fuck! I really didn’t want to meet her. My twin used to rave about her back in the day, but her awe was quickly replaced by resentment, even hate. Our father left us at the mercy of the wolves, the few times he evenbothered to visit us, but he had no problem taking care of his other children.
A petite woman with red hair and blue eyes held on to Priest’s hand.
“Fuck, you look just like your sister,” Ivy said. She closed the distance, dragging Priest along. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Liana.” Then, to my horror, she hugged me. I squeezed Amara, using her as my shield, while staring wide-eyed at her family. Then she stepped back and threw her in-laws a glare. “You’re not going to shoot her, so get your hands off your guns.”
“Okay, this is awkward,” Juliette blurted.Yeah, you’re not wrong.
“Let’s go inside,” Wynter encouraged, offering me a smile and a tentative wave. “I’m sure we have some catching up to do.”
God help me with all these family reunions.
THIRTY-NINE
GIOVANNI
She left me.
Sitting on the rooftop terrace in my brother-in-law’s penthouse, I listened to the party in full swing behind me. Music was playing, champagne was flowing, and it seemed people had traveled far and wide to don their swankiest getups.
Everything was the same as it was this morning when I first woke up, only now I was alone. And I was well under way to getting drunk as I nursed my fifth glass of whiskey. I half debated whether I should just switch to a bottle and save myself the effort of pouring. To make matters worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—I hacked the party’s playlist and now it was all Eminem and Sarah McLachlan blaring through the speakers. No better way to give people whiplash.
“Are you still wallowing?” my sister’s voice came from behind me.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“Are you having fun listening to these dumb-ass songs? Because none of the other guests are. Can’t we switch to something normal?”
“They’re not dumb-ass songs.” Didn’t she fucking know they were Liana’s favorites?
I took another slug of whiskey, then resumed staring out at Boston’s city lights. This was home as much as my yacht was, despite how I spent the majority of my time in Italy, thanks to Mateo and his need to spend more time at home with his wife and growing family.
“Are you really going to mope around?” Marissa’s high-pitched voice was giving me a headache. “Do you really need me to say it?”
“Say what?”
“Go after her. Bring her back!”
“She made it clear, she doesn’t—” Fuck, I couldn’t even say the words. I was such a total loser, unable to think about the words she’d thrown in my face.I don’t love you. I never will.
“Bullshit.”
“I can’t hold her back. Lia endured enough and was kept a prisoner for too long already.” Marissa let out an exaggerated breath, blowing raspberries like she used to when she was a little girl. “And for the love of God, stop blowing on me. I’m not on fire.”
