Page 27 of Welcome to the Sins of Blackstone
I swallow, my throat burning. His next words are clipped, firm, a warning and a challenge all in one. “Now, son, this is the moment where you decide who you are.”
The air shifts. The weight in the room changes.
“Are you a boy who lost his mother?” His voice hardens. “Or are you a man who is going to show the world exactly who the fuck he is?”
Silence. The kind that crushes. The kind that demands an answer.
My father holds my gaze, waiting.
And for the first time since the war started, I feel it. The fire. Rising through the grief, crawling through my veins, burning through the weight of loss. Because he’s right.
I can break. Or I can rise.
I keep my eyes locked on my father. And speak with a steady voice.
“They’ll learn what it means to take from me.”
Chapter 13
Maria
Jo unfastens the last button, the dress slips from my shoulders dragging the night down with it.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My mother’s dress, well what’s left of it. It’s ruined. White silk now stained in deep, violent red. Massimo’s mother’s blood.
Picking up the dress, I clutch the fabric at my chest, my breath shuddering.
This is my fault.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of the gunfire, the screams. The way Massimo shouted“NO!”with a raw, broken voice.
I shake my head, trying to wash away the image, but it’s burned into me now. Just like this guilt, this will never leave me.
Jo takes my dress from me, and my body goes even more numb. “It’s ruined,” I whisper, my voice hollow. “It was my mother’s.”
Jo doesn’t say anything for a second. Then she sighs, setting the dress aside and stepping in front of me.
“Maria, listen to me,” she says gently, placing her hands on my arms. “This is not your fault.” I let out a sharp laugh, but it sounds more like a sob.
“It should’ve been a wedding, not a war.” My voice shakes. “And now she’s dead, because I said yes.”
Jo’s face softens, but her grip tightens. “You don’t get to do this,” she says firmly. “You don’t get to put this all on yourself.”
I shake my head, pulling away from her. “I knew this would happen, Jo. I knew the Irish wouldn’t just let this go. And still…I still let Massimo choose me.” My voice drops to a whisper. “And now he’ll hate me for it.”
Jo’s eyes darken, and she steps closer. “Massimo could never hate you, Maria.”
I swallow hard, but I don’t say anything.
She grips my chin gently, forcing me to look at her. “There’s a difference.” The words escape her softly. “And if you weren’t so busy drowning in guilt, you’d see it too.”
Tears blur my vision. I want to believe her. I do. But the truth is, I’ll never shake this guilt.
Even if Massimo doesn’t hate me now, one day he will because no matter what his mother is dead.
And I will always be the reason why.
Chapter 14
