Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“No, they wouldn’t. They would have been proud that no matter what you had to deal with, you did so with strength. You didn’t let your family change who you were.” I gripped the back of her neck and tugged her close, kissing her. “I wish you could have known me before.”
“I do know you,” Alba said. “You may not think it, but that man is still there. He’s still inside you.” She rubbed my chest. “And nothing anyone does can change that.”
“Let me show you the house.”
I took her through every room and couldn’t help pointing out parts I wasn’t sure of, and that I didn’t remember how it went. I would say I had gotten my parents’ house ninety-nine percent accurate, but there was always room for error. When I realized I didn’t remember every single thing about my parents’ home, I’d been completely wracked with guilt. I’d wanted to remember every little detail, but they hadn’t come to me. They were things I should have known, like how the fireplace looked. We’d spent many years posing in front of that fireplace, especially around Christmas, and in my mind, I couldn’t get it right.
It felt good to share this with Alba.
This was my home.
“You had an amazing home,” she said, after I told her so many stories of what it was like growing up. My mom’s baking. My father irritating my mother because he was constantly covered in oil, making a mess everywhere without even touching anything.
My sister, constantly trying to out-prank me but always failing, because whenever she was about to pull a prank, she would start giggling, which was a giant tell.
“When all of this is over, I’d like for us to live our lives here.”
I couldn’t help but smile as Alba wrapped her arms around my neck and agreed with me.
Chapter Nine
Alba
After hearing the many tales of Odin’s mom, all I wanted to do was get better at cooking. It felt like an addiction—baking, cooking, and hoping that every single night he had an edible, home-cooked meal. I wasn’t doing too bad, and following long lists of instructions was relatively easy. The baking was a little more complicated, but I successfully accomplished fudgy brownies and chocolate cake. I was pretty damn good at chocolate in most forms, and that was an amazing feeling.
In the background, I knew something was happening, because Odin was different. Each night, he would kiss me on the cheek as he came indoors, but I would see the blood on his clothes. Before he would come to dinner, he’d take those clothes out into the small yard and burn them. When he came back, there would be a smile. We wouldn’t talk about it, as I knew what he was doing.
Slowly, he was bringing the Serra Mafia down.
I’d noticed the number of men who guarded this building, and the ones on the street, had increased. Not all were dressed like they were soldiers, but I saw them. They blended in, looking like locals. Most of them were having random conversations, or were seen working on cars, or doing odd jobs, but I saw the way they looked to one another.
I also happened to spot the few Serra men patrolling the street as well.
My and Odin’s relationship was getting stronger and stronger. There was no doubt in my mind that I was in love with this man. He was an incredible man. He’d been through so much, yet he still kept fighting, and I admired that.
I loved every morning, as he would kiss me, regardless of whether I had gotten the time to brush my teeth or not. Each night, after we made love or had hot heavy sex, he’d hold me in his arms—that was what I missed most.
He’d told me when the time came, I would know when it was all over, because we would leave this place and go home to where he had built a new life for us. I waited, knowing the time would come.
The Serra Mafia never had an opponent like Odin. I knew they were going to lose, and I was more than okay with that. It was time for the reign to be over. The nightmare stories I heard from the women, girls, and men that had been taken, and what I had witnessed with my own eyes, all had to end. I knew Odin was the one to make that happen.
I carried the tray of Italian baked chicken, a recipe I had planned all week. As I put the hot, bubbling casserole on the table, Odin looked at me, and from his grim expression, I knew something wasn’t good. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“That’s Chiara,” he said.
“What?”
In all my time being here, my family had never come to visit me. Not even when I had taken the poison meant for my husband.