by Dani René
Shaking my head, I’m about to ask him what he means, but he leaves, closing the door before I can get the words out. My body aches everywhere, but there aren’t bruises on my arms when I glance down.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, which has me moving quickly to retrieve it. It’s lit up with a message from Dante.
They have Amoretto?
Why the fuck did my brother not wake me?
When my bedroom door swings open again, I glance over my shoulder to find River sauntering in. He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans. The turtleneck he’s wearing is black, which only makes the green of his eyes pop from his tanned skin.
“We’re apparently wanted for dinner,” he offers, settling beside Caia on the bed, which causes her to open her eyes.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I question, staring at my best friend who shakes his head.
“No, I’m as clueless as you.”
“What happened?” My girl scoots up against the headboard, her gaze darting between River and me.
“We’ve been brought home. I don’t remember much after we left the house,” I tell her. I’m not sure what happened, but nothing feels broken, just achy, so it couldn’t have been an accident. “Get up. We need to figure out what’s going on.”
My brother has never wanted to get involved in my revenge plan. He offered his assistance but didn’t show much interest when it came to taking down the assholes I was so adamant in killing.
But then again, Dante has always been a live wire. More volatile than I ever was. I’d seen him lose control a few times, and to be honest, it scared me.
Once we’re dressed, the three of us make our way down the hallway toward the sweeping staircase which will lead us into the living room, dining room, and kitchen area.
As soon as I step into our large dining room, I’m halted in my tracks by three people sitting at the fourteen-seater table. At the head farthest from me is Caia’s father, bound to the chair. His mouth is covered with black tape, his eyes wide with fear.
To the left of him is a woman I would recognize anywhere. Not because I’ve met her before, but because the woman standing beside me is the spitting image of her. Caia’s soft gasp falls from her plump lips, and I don’t blame her. Coming face to face with a ghost is never easy.
To the right of Hamish Amoretto is another woman. She has her back to us, but my chest tightens when she shifts slowly. Time moves at a snail’s pace when she turns her face toward us. Her familiar, wide blue eyes meet mine, and my breath is knocked from me.
I’m unsure of what to do or say, so I stand speechless at the entrance. The three people at the dinner table are all bound, their mouths covered so I can’t hear their pleas.
Most importantly, I can’t hear her voice.
The woman with the eyes that match mine and Dante’s.
The woman I believed was dead.
The woman I would be calling mom if she’d stuck around to be the mother Dante and I never had.
28
Caia
I’m not sure how I find strength to move, but I do.
Closing the distance between me and the table, I can’t drag my eyes away from my mother. She’s sitting on a chair, bound, muted, and helpless. I find myself wanting to save her and wanting to slap her for leaving me. For leaving Harper.
“Ah, the dinner party has arrived.” Dante’s voice comes from the doorway. Beside him is Harper. She’s smiling as she leans into him. His arm is draped around her shoulders as if they’re out on a date, not standing in a room with people who have been kidnapped.
“What’s going on here, brother?” Drake hisses under his breath, but I’m close enough to hear him. The tension in the room hangs heavily, a thick cloud of anger and distrust grips us all in its feral claws.
“We’re having parents evening at the Savage Mansion,” Dante tells us. Tugging Harper alongside him, they settle at the opposite side of the table from where my father is sitting, with Harper on Dante’s lap.
Everything feels slightly surreal when she leans into him as if he’s her savior. I want to stop her, to tell her to be careful, but to be truthful, I have no idea what is actually going on.
One more person joins us. Rayne. The girl from Thanos’s mansion. She slides into a chair to the right of Dante, and my sister finally takes a seat to the left.
“Please, sit down,” Dante says. It’s alarming how the twins can look so alike, but their personalities are so vastly different.
Drake laces his fingers through mine, pulling me closer as we settle beside each other on the chairs that have been set out. The long, dark wood table can seat a fair number of guests, but I have a feeling this party is only for us.
River is beside me, his hand on my thigh, holding me steady, and I wonder if he’s keeping himself upright or me. Drake has my hand clenched so tightly in his I feel the tingle start in the tips as the circulation is cut off.
“Now,” Dante starts. “I’ve found out a few things about our wonderful parents that may make you recoil, but then again, this is the Savage Mansion,” he chuckles. “Many things that happen in here would make you cringe.”
“Dante, this game—”
“Oh, I assure you brother, this is far from a game.” Dante smiles, staring at me then turning his gaze on my mother. “The woman over there, Mrs. Amoretto.” He says her name for effect, to slowly slice at my heart. “Has two daughters, who are here tonight, Harper and Caia.” Blue eyes land on us both, flitting between my sister and me. “The thing about it is, you both thought dear mommy was dead,” Dante continues, and I wonder briefly if he’s stoned or high.
“Dante, this is ridiculous.” River’s voice is tight with tension and anxiety.
“Oh, but wait.” Our host rises. “My own mother,” he says, pointing to the other woman bound to a chair. “She walked out on Drake and me before we even knew her name. So, this brings me back to the reason for the dinner party tonight.” Dante lifts a bottle of wine which was set on the table and proceeds in filling the glasses. “Harper, if you’d be so kind.” He gestures to my sister who obeys him without question.
She rises, setting a glass down in front of each of us, then settles beside Dante again. She looks beautiful, poised, strong. Better than she did when I left her only hours ago.
“I was the one who informed Hamish about your plan, brother,” Dante informs us all, but his gaze is pinned on his brother. “Now, before you fight me on this, I’ll explain. You see, I found out our mother, along with your beautiful girlfriend’s mother, were both fucking Hamish,” Dante says. He lifts his wine glass as if he’s about to make a toast. “I wish him luck on his ventures, because since I found this out, I figured, we should all meet him, have a meal, and get to know the man who was responsible for a variety of deaths, kidnappings, and even a few broken souls along the way.”
“What?” I croak, unsure where this is going.
“Hamish Amoretto was the mind behind the Savage Organization,” Dante says. “He was blackmailing Malcolm to perform certain . . . duties, so that he can live a life of luxury.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Drake says, to which Dante smirks, sliding over a folder which he’d set on the table when he joined us.
Drake flips open the manila folder with pages of information about my father’s investment, or rather, startup costs which he had given Malcolm to get the enterprise up and running. My father was the mastermind behind everything that happened to me. But then he fucked up. It appears he lost money gambling, paying for whores, and also paying for the delivery of the toys from various operations.
When Drake gets to the last page, my vision blurs. I was payment for my father’s debt to Thanos. He’d borrowed money from the man, and I was the auctioned item to clear my father’s name.
“So.” Dante smiles. “I brought you all here today to get your take on the events that took place as we grew up,” he tells us. “For years, Drake tried to protect me. He hid the things he’d seen, the things he experienc
ed, but I knew. Deep down, I realized my brother wasn’t okay. Each smile was offset by darkness that danced in his eyes, and I figured, I’ll be the big brother for once. I’ll save him.”
“What are you talking about, Dante?” This time, Drake sounds frustrated with his brother. His hand still clutches mine, and I’m sure if he lets go, I’ll fall to my knees and weep.
The silence is thick, heavy, and daunting. I don’t know if I want to know the truth. I honestly don’t think I can handle any more than I already have.
“Well, it turns out, dear brother, that Mommy Dearest knows exactly where River’s mother is hiding.” Dante looks excited about the prospect of finding the woman who birthed the boys’ best friend. He seems jovial.
“And where exactly is that?” River finally speaks beside me. I grip his hand, knowing that this could set him off. I don’t know River as well as I do Drake, but something tells me that he could lose his mind over the fact that his mother could be closer than he believed.
“Well.” Dante rises. He strides over to where his and Drake’s mother is sitting. We watch as he rips the black tape from over her mouth. “Tell them, Mommy Dearest,” Dante utters in her ear so we can all hear him. “Tell them where your sister is.”
29
Drake
“What?” My voice is raspy. I growl the word through clenched teeth. This can’t be happening. Shaking my head, I watch as my mother trembles and shivers as the tears stream down her face. She’s begging and pleading, but all I see is red. Blood-fucking-rage red. There’s nothing that can stop me from moving from my seat, not even Caia.
I’m in her face, tugging the rope until she’s free, then I wrench her from the chair by her neck. She’s so light I easily lift her and pin her against the wall. Her slim frame shudders with fear, but I don’t give a shit.
My blood has passed simmering. It’s fucking boiling. Her wide eyes that look so familiar meet mine in agony and apology, but nothing can make up for what she did.
“Please, let me explain.”
“River is my fucking cousin? Your filthy whore of a sister left him to live a life of filth and depravity?” Spittle flies from my mouth, landing on her face, causing her to flinch as I pray my words burn her. But I know they don’t. Sadly, they only cause her more heartache. I want to see the bitch burn. I don’t care if she carried me for nine months, I don’t care if she forced me from her cunt. I’m just angry she isn’t really dead.
My fingers tighten around her delicate neck. Tears race down her cheeks like a salty waterfall of despair.
“She needed money. Your . . . Your father said he’d care for River.” Her words make no sense.
“She needed money for what? To run a fucking organization in Thailand?”
She shakes her head, her blue gaze landing on the man behind me. Hamish Amoretto. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s shaking his head. His fear is like a fucking aphrodisiac, and my cock hardens at the thought of making him watch me take his daughter, making him look into her eyes as she comes with my dick inside her. Shaking my head, I realize I’m as sick as Malcolm was.
“So, Malcolm did what?”
“Hamish promised her the money if she opened an import company for him in Asia. He offered her over ten million dollars to move there, never come back here, but leave her son with Malcolm. You have to understand, before you boys were born,” she murmurs. “Money was tight.”
I no longer know what to believe, but one thing is certain. Tonight I will be killing someone. And the person that will experience my wrath is behind me at the table, shaking his head.
“What a lovely story, Mom,” Dante laughs. When I glance at him, I wonder if he’s high. Perhaps he’s been snorting shit again to numb the memories. God knows I’ve done it far too many times in the past.
“Tell me something.” I meet my mother’s worried stare. “Did you ever love us? Was there ever an inkling of emotion for your sons?”
Her mouth falls open to respond, but no words come out, and I know what I have to do. This shit ends tonight. And it starts with the woman I don’t know. The stranger who I’m slowly squeezing the life out of.
Caia’s hand lands on my arm. Her wide eyes meet mine when I turn toward her. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she questions, looking out for my well-being when I should be the one caring for her. “There’s no going back.” Her warning is clear. Once I kill my own mother, I’ll never be able to forget or take it back.
“It’s because of her you’re here. It’s also because of her that Dante, River, and I lived through the horrific, fucked-up life we did,” I tell her. My choice has been made; she can see it in my eyes.
Caia nods. Releasing me from her grip, she steps back, allowing me space to do what I need to. I turn back to my mother. Dante is beside me, watching me lose control.
“Brother,” he murmurs beside me. “We can keep her in the cells.” He’s right. It’s an option, but I plan to burn this house down when this is over. There will no longer be any cells. There’ll be no Savage Mansion when I’m done.
I glance at Dante who seems to have come back down to earth from his rather flamboyant high.
“I promised you something a long time ago, brother,” I tell him. “I’ll get you out of this. There will no longer be a house, cells. There’ll no longer be a Savage Organization. They’re all dead.”
My mother’s hand grips my wrist, holding onto me as if I’m about to save her. But the only people I am saving are the people who’ve been there for me.
The grip I have on her neck tightens, and I watch as she gasps for air. Mumbled pleas of mercy are ignored as she claws at me, her body flailing, and I find myself smiling as my mother takes her last breath.
Her lips turn a shade of purple then slowly blue as I watch in awe. The colors make such a beautiful rainbow as her breaths are stolen. Whoever said death wasn’t beautiful?
30
Caia
I can’t tear my gaze away from the man I love as he steals his mother’s life with a single hand. The veins in his forearm thick and angry, pulsing as they trail down toward his fingers, as if they’re offering more strength to finish the deed.
I should be afraid of him. He could easily kill me. He could simply turn to me and decide he’s had enough. But when Drake’s fingers finally unravel from his mother’s delicate neck and she tumbles to the ground, he turns to me with fire and affection dancing in those piercing blue orbs, and he doesn’t steal my life. Instead, he is the thief of my heart.
“Come here, sweet girl,” he calls to me, reaching for me with one hand, and the other hangs at his side as if it’s tired from the strain of squeezing every last heartbeat from the lifeless form on the floor.
I don’t deny him the affection he so clearly seeks. When I reach him, I mold myself into the crook of his arm. His warmth calms my erratic heartbeat. Everything has happened way too fast. I still have no idea why my sister is so in love with Dante, how my mother and father are sitting here, but all I focus on is one thing. The one thing I’ve wanted to do for so long — to kill my father while he looks into my eyes.
“It’s time for you to decide how you end this, little bird,” Drake murmurs in my ear. Dante places a hand on my shoulder. When I glance up at both men, I take in their similarities up close. Dante hands me a weapon — a sleek, silver blade with a handle carved from wood. The ridges dig into my hand when I grip it.
“It’s your birthday today, sweet Caia.” Dante smiles. “Your gifts await you.” His voice is almost ethereal, along with his handsome face. I take in his angular jaw and the dimples I’m sure have my sister in their grip, as well as his full, pink lips, the mischievous grin, and the way flames dance in his eyes. As handsome as Dante is, my heart belongs to his brother.
Turning my attention to Drake, I smile at how rugged he looks beside me. A slight dusting of stubble darkens his jaw. He only has one dimple in the right cheek when he smiles. There’s a softness to him, even in this darkness. He off
ers affection I know Dante doesn’t hold. And that makes me wonder how the brother who went through the worst of it can still care so much.
That’s when my eyes land on another man. River. He’s watching me intently, and I know he’s worried. I can see it in his expression. The quiet one of the three, he offers solace in his silence.
With a touch, glance, or smile, he can diffuse a situation. But I know his heart holds more than that. It overflows with love. For Dante, for me, and most importantly, for Drake. And just as I figured, he gives me a smirk along with a nod.
It’s time for me to say goodbye to my past and move on. It’s time for my father to pay for what he’s done. Harper steps up beside me. She’s holding a knife similar to the one in my hand.
“It’s time, sister,” she whispers, and we make our way toward the table. The man who we grew up calling Daddy is shivering and shaking his head as if pleading for mercy. But there’s none left. He made sure of that when he took our lives into his hands and toyed with us like pawns in a much larger game.
Leaning in, I whisper in his ear, “This is for all the years I’ve lost.” Pressing the tip of the blade at his ear, I push it into the opening, watching and reveling in the way the sharp steel slices through the wrinkled flesh.
Blood spurts from the wound I inflict, staining my hand in crimson as I shove it in deeper. Cutting into the man who allowed me to lose all my innocence, I trail the object down his right cheek toward the corner of his mouth.
I can’t help laughing when the tape falls away from his lips and he pleads with me. Begging for his life. For me to think about what I’m doing.
“Did you think, Daddy?” Harper mimics my action while taunting our father with her words. “Did you think when you pinned me to the bed? When I cried, and you told me it was best for me?” Her words echo the pain my chest. I wasn’t there to save her, but when I see my sister now, I know she’s her own heroine. She’s strong. She’s a warrior. She’s a survivor.
