Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
"No." The word escapes without fanfare. Simple. Clean. Possibly the only honest syllable I've uttered since entering this house.
Jino nods, a professional accepting rejection, but it's Giovanni's reaction that twists my stomach. His jaw remains tight, but something in his eyes—a flash of relief, maybe—vanishes as quickly as it appeared. He allowed this. He stood there while another man asked to touch me, and he didn't immediately rip the man's arms off.
That's what terrifies me most. Not the question, but Giovanni's willingness to tolerate it.
"I think I deserve to know what the fuck this is," I say. "Either explain yourselves and this... this game, in detail, or I'm taking the money and leaving. For good."
My voice cracks on the last word. Humiliating.
Giovanni's eyes narrow, his gaze cold and calculating. "Interesting that you're willing to hear us out before leaving."
And there it is. Another goddamn test. Another little nugget of manipulation dressed up as an observation.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Something ignites in my chest—a bright, righteous anger that burns away the fear and confusion. "You know what, no. I'm done being your psychological science experiment. You know I want you. You know I like you. And yet, you refuse—"
"ENOUGH!" Giovanni's voice crashes through the room like a wrecking ball. His control snaps, rage pouring out like he's been cut open. "You think this is a fucking game? I'm trying to keep you alive! Did you forget that I splattered Rico's brain all over the fucking pool house to save you?"
The silence that follows is nuclear.
Jino's face goes utterly blank, the kind of stillness that happens right before an earthquake. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Oh god. He really didn't know. How the hell did he not know? The deep fake cousin. The fictitious trip to Bangkok. Jino didn't know.
Giovanni's glare swings to me, his finger jabbing in my direction like a weapon. "See? SEE! You're gonna get us both killed!" His chest heaves with exertion. "Take the key and get the fuck out!"
The last word is a roar that makes me physically jump backward. My throat constricts, eyes burning as tears threaten. The floor seems to tilt beneath my feet.
"Okay, back the fuck up." Jino's voice is dangerously calm. "What. The. Hell. Is going on here?"
Giovanni explains in clipped sentences, each word causing ripples through the galaxy the size of black holes. Rico found me naked. Rico tried to rape me. Rico wouldn't stop. Giovanni killed Rico.
With each revelation, Jino's expression hardens, his eyes sliding between Giovanni and me, lingering on me longer each time. Not with desire now, but with accusation. Like I'm Patient Zero for some plague that's infected his family.
My chest hitches as real tears start falling. Of course. Of course Jino blames me. I'm the outsider, the unknown variable, the catalyst for catastrophe.
This is it. The moment when even Giovanni's stubbornness can't withstand the weight of family obligation. They'll put me on a plane with a new identity and a stern warning never to return.
"No!" The word bursts from me with such force my voice breaks. I stomp my foot like a child having a tantrum, the sound echoing in the concrete room.
I march over to the hook on the wall and slam the key back onto it with enough force to make my palm sting.
"No!" I yell again, louder this time. "I'm staying. The game is still going. Change the fucking rules, I don't care."
Giovanni stalks toward me, covering the distance in three long strides. His hands grip my shoulders, fingers digging in, and he actually shakes me. "What is wrong with you!" It's not a question but an indictment. His green eyes are wild, face contorted with frustration. "You don't belong here!"
The words hit like a physical blow, breaking something loose inside me.
"I DON'T BELONG ANYWHERE!" I scream, my voice raw and ragged, tearing from someplace so deep it feels ancestral.
Before either man can respond, I wrench myself from Giovanni's grip, dash into the tiny adjoining room, and slam the door with enough force to rattle the walls.
13
The door reverberates. A cheap, hollow sound. Not a proper ending to the revelation that has altered the entire architecture of this moment.
I watch the vibration fade from the hinges. The girl has sealed herself away as if wood and metal could separate her from consequence. As if consequence acknowledges barriers.
Giovanni killed Rico.
The words form in perfect, orderly sequence in my mind, each one a verse in a ritual I never consented to perform. I taste copper in my mouth, blood from where his fist split my lip earlier. Now I understand why that fight carried such desperation.
Giovanni killed Rico LaRiccia.
Not in sanctioned violence. Not as ordered execution. Over a woman with wild eyes who thinks slamming a door is a declaration of sovereignty.
I turn from the sealed door to look at Giovanni. My cousin. The man I thought I understood. Blood of my blood. Member of the order. Now something different. Something incorrect.