Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“S-stop, Tommas,” Laurent begged.
Tommas didn’t hear a word.
He hit his father again.
And again.
He couldn’t seem to soothe the rage no matter how hard he hit Laurent. And he tried—God he fucking tried. He couldn’t get the gun to hit his father hard enough, couldn’t break enough teeth, or make enough blood spill.
Breaking the man wasn’t satisfying enough.
Tommas wanted him gone.
Laurent might have loved him once.
He might have cared.
He’d been his father’s little Tommy gun, after all.
But that was a long, long time ago.
Laurent’s face was a bloody, battered mess when Tommas finally stopped hitting him with the gun. His father spit blood and saliva out, choking on his own fluids. He mumbled on the floor, begging for Tommas to let him live—begging for his wife.
Because Serena was so important to Laurent.
Much more than his own children were.
“Don’t hurt her, Tommas,” Laurent said.
Tommas barely heard a word. He was still caught up in that red hot, white-fueled fury rushing through his bloodstream. It was so much better than the pain and betrayal he felt whenever he thought about his father.
Laurent kept mumbling, begging, and then he was gagging on his own bloody vomit. That was the one and only time that Tommas let his father go.
He didn’t want the man’s sickness on him.
He lived with Laurent’s sickness every single day of his life.
Tommas was terrified of becoming this man. A man who drank his days away and neglected the lives he brought into the world. A man who only cared about what people could do for him, and never gave a shit about anyone else.
“Fucking bastard,” Tommas hissed. “That’s all you are. So fucking useless, Laurent. You can’t hurt a man over and over and expect to get away unscathed. You really messed up this time.”
Laurent wasn’t hearing Tommas.
He was too busy begging for the life of a woman Tommas also didn’t care about.
Laurent only stopped mumbling when Tommas cocked the hammer back and shoved the barrel against his father’s mouth.
“I hate you,” Tommas said quietly.
Laurent swallowed audibly.
Tommas was glad the truth was the final words his father would ever hear.
He pulled the trigger back.
Smooth.
Easy.
True.
Like breathing.
Tommas didn’t look away, either.
The Truth
“Gian,” Tommas greeted.
Standing in the entryway of the Trentini mansion, Gian kept his back to Tommas while he stared out the side window next to the grand doors. “Tommas—we made it up the driveway this time, at least.”
“A feat, was it?”
Gian let out a slow, but hard, breath. “Painful, I think.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re not the one who created those memories for her, you know. And she’s so determined to ... get over it. I think she’s given herself a complex about it, really. She helps everyone else, and yet, hasn’t been able to help herself in the same ways.”
Tommas understood.
Well enough, anyway.
“Where’d the boys go?”
“Ran off with Tommaso. Abriella said she would call when lunch was finished. You were busy on the phone—I told her not to bother you. The same for them.”
“You’re not a bother. Besides, I was waiting for you to arrive. Next time, get her to call me down.”
“To watch my wife with me?”
Tommas chuckled. “I can do that, too, of course.”
“She said to just ... let her work through it. She’ll come in when she’s ready. It took her ten minutes to get out of the car after we arrived. Now, she’s just out there sitting on the curb staring at the marble steps.”
“Oh.”
At the simple statement—but not with any surprise—Gian turned to give Tommas a raised brow. “What was that—that oh. What does that mean?”
“The steps—it’s where Lea died.”
“I know that. What I don’t understand is why she wants to stare at them. It’s been years since she’s even been back to this house, Tommas.”
“Or maybe ... she’s trying to see something else, Gian. Something other than what she sees now when she looks at them.”
Because even Tommas couldn’t forget those steps.
That day.
His sister’s blood.
None of it.
He knew it was worse for Cara—it had to be. She’d been standing right beside Lea when their sister was shot. It had been her twin. Because even when Tommas hadn’t been able to be there for Cara in her life, Lea always was.
“Could I go out and speak to her?” he asked.
Gian cleared his throat. “I try to follow her wishes—she asked to be left alone.”
“Well, you married her. I did not.”
“True.” Gian hummed under his breath. “How about I leave the decision up to you while I go find my monsters and round them up for lunch?”
Tommas smiled. “I can work with that. Plausible deniability.”
“Exactly.”
They were different men, him and Gian.
In a lot of ways, they were also the same.
*
“Do you remember the sounds she made?” Cara asked suddenly.
Tommas drew in a sharp breath as he came to stand beside his younger sister where she sat on the curb of his long driveway. “I do—gasping and gurgles. She asked for help. It sounded like pain; I remember that the most.”