Page 23 of Original Sins (Dark Odyssey 6)

As the men rushed away, I stood there, unable to do anything but question myself if I’d stumbled into some kind of nightmare. I couldn’t believe it was real.

I remember my body moving on its own as I realized the truth of what happened to my brother.

I rushed to his side, and he died in my arms.

Hearing the gunshot, our guards came by minutes later, but they were too late.

I remember when Mom died, the world ended, but death was kinder to her.

Dante was a different story. Someone ended his life.

I described Dante’s killer in every way I possibly could, but no one has been able to find him. Describing a dark-haired Italian man who looked to be in his mid to late fifties with a snake tattooed on his hand is not much of a description. Dad looked for anybody with the fucking tattoo that matched that description, but it’s a common tattoo.

Only I could identify him because I saw his face. That’s the key.

The whole occurrence looked like two separate matters—whatever issue Dante had with Peter and the shooting. But I think the issue was linked to the shooting.

Dante went out into the woods looking for Peter, but there was no sign of him.

Why would he go out there calling for Peter if he didn’t think he was going to be there?

The shooting also took place on our side of the woods, not the public path. I believe those men were on our side for a reason.

So what I thought all these years was that Peter set the whole thing up and lured my brother into a trap.

That is the thing that haunts me daily, and I can’t prove it.

Now I’m faced with this. I’m to marry the same man I hate so much.

The sun comes up, and with it, Cordelia returns to the room to check on me.

She’s also made breakfast or probably ordered it in.

There’s an assortment of pastries and bagels too neat looking for anything she made. Angela, her maid, also never starts work this early.

She pushes her hair over her shoulder and sets the tray down on the nightstand.

I sit up and pull the sheet closer to my chest. I’m wearing one of my high school t-shirts and a pair of shorts. It was the first thing I grabbed last night.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Like shit.”

“I ordered this in from the bakery. I didn’t realize they opened this early or took orders. I just got back with them, and I drove like a madwoman, so the pastries should still be warm.”

“You went?”

Cordelia thinks it’s an abomination for anybody to be on the street at this hour. It’s barely six.

“You love croissants. Remember your mom used to have them ready every Saturday I’d spend with you guys? You loved it, so I thought it would cheer you up.”

I offer a weak smile. “It has.”

“I’m glad.”

From the uneasy look in her eyes, I can tell that she’s still not thrilled about the conversation she had with my father.

Not wanting to jump straight into that when she’s done her best to cheer me up, I eat two croissants making me feel more alert.

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