Page 60 of Pain and Possession

He gives me a light laugh, gently shoving me out of the way and taking the cup from my hands as he wets a sponge. "Nona would have a meltdown if she saw you wasting water."

I give him a light smile, "Yeah brain lagged, sorry."

He looks up from the cup briefly, his dark hair is cut a little shorter than Noè's but they could almost be brothers, "You good? Lane has been kinda stressed about you."

That's why she broke up with Jackson.

"I'm good." I answer, my voice far from convincing. Which is alarming considering the lie usually slips from my tongue easier than my own name. He raises his eyebrows, making me take a deep breath I want so badly to respond. I want to tell him no. That everything is so far from okay. I'm scared and happy and confused and fucking every other conceivable emotion.

And it's all because of Noè.

"Everything has changed, not sure how I feel about it yet."

He just nods, "Sure about that?"

"Which part?"

"Maybe the only thing that's changed is you. Your perception of the situation. Of him and us." Those words slam into me like a runaway train, he must notice to because he elaborates, "We grew up together pretty much. I mean Noè never had a chance, he was in it before he was born but me, I wanted this life. Fought for it."

"Why would anyone fight for this?" I blurt out. My inner thoughts becoming outside ones.

Hock shrugs, unoffended. "I was fucking street rat. Forgotten, the system didn't care, in and out of foster homes. Don't even remember my parents but they were druggies, so no love lost there. Found out a few years back they never even reported me missing when a random woman took me from their house."

Jesus…

"She was my mom at least I thought so and for a while it was great but eventually someone caught on that she had no legal right to me, and I was taken. Not sure what happened to her after that." He picks up a towel drying the cup harder than necessary, his brown eyes darkening.

"Moral of the story I stole something off some pompous looking rich kid at the playground. Just a stupid watch, he was like fucking nine. What nine-year-old needs a watch like that?" He laughs to himself, his playful demeanor slipping back into place.

"Anyway, that pompous rich kid was Noè. He beat my fucking ass that day, then… he apologized. He helped me to my feet and asked Nona if I could come get lunch with them."

I smile, picturing a little baby Noè. Something strange pulses in my heart, remembering my earlier revelation about my missed period. Not that it's super uncommon for me to miss with all the stress and not eating properly. Hock gives me a weird look before he turns, "Here let me show you something."

I struggle to remember the path we take as he leads me up the stairs of the compound. The further we go up, the more homely it feels. Less like a warmly decorated criminal headquarters and more like… a house. He peeks over his shoulder, "The compound has four floors not including the basement, when the old man was around the fourth floor was where they lived. Nona, Noè, you get the idea. Second in a command, shit like that. The lower you got the less personal because those areas were open to guests and visitors. Soldiers on the second and third. Higher the rank, higher you were."

A chill runs down my spine when I remember Noè pulling me down to the basement, "And the bottom floor?"

He chuckles, "Not the most hospitable level."

I can't help but notice how untouched everything feels up here. Like it's long been forgotten. That point is driven home even further when he opens up a set of large double doors leading into what looks like a richly decorated living room. Family pictures are hung along the walls only nobody is smiling. Not even the fake ones everyone usually wears in those sad forced family pictures that lined the walls of my foster families. Nobody except a large man looming behind his family, his dark graying hair and intense hazel eyes give away his identity.

"He left them up?" I ask, my palms starting to sweat. This feels like a place I shouldn't be. Like I'm peeking into a part of Noè he didn't willingly give up. Then I remember how he dug into my background and suddenly give a lot less of a fuck.

"He leaves it like this for Nona. For his uncle when he was around, out of respect. Alessandro Arcuri was a cruel fuck, but he was a dedicated father. He loved Noè, such an intense love it clouded common fucking sense. He was obsessed with weakness, making sure his only son would survive in this world. Thrive in it."

"His mother?"

He plops down on a couch, moving a thick blanket that looks homemade out of the way. "Some things are better left in the past. If you ask, he'll tell you anything you want to know. Noè is… intense but he never knew any other way to be. He's a good man, he goes out of his way to keep the part of his father alive that helped people. Families that needed it then and still need it now. It's not all arms deals and cocaine babe."

I take a seat in a wide armed chair across from him as I shoot him a loaded look, "You're bias."

He scoffs, "Well yeah, I fucking love coke."

I laugh and can't help but wonder how long it's been since these rooms have held laugher, if ever. Can't help but wonder the hell the walls hold, "You said his dad helped people?"

He nods, "No strings attached loans or straight-out handouts for people trying to make it. Bailing old women out of the debts their husband's left them with rival families. Paying off homes, college funds, too much to list."

Like Costa's…

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