Chapter Sixteen
Kieran
I knew something was off the moment I entered my room. The smell of oil and mud hung stale in the air. The scent I recognized as belonging to Luca Mancini.
Luca and I were the same age. We traveled in the same circles, even shared some of the same targets. Like I was to Cillian, Luca was to Alessandro. The Mancini family’s lead assassin. I’d never had the inclination to truly know Luca. He fucking scared me. Oftentimes looking at his freakishly amber eyes left me tainted. Something fucked up happened to him no one knew about. Luca hadn’t always been insane.
But now he was. And he liked wearing war paint when he was on missions. He got kicks out of instilling fear into his targets and being in control of everything, even the target’s reaction. It was never about the kill for him, but about the game. A game in which he alone knew the rules.
And now he was playing me.
Pictures lay scattered on the bed. Pictures taken by a student at Arcadia. A fucking traitor. Someone who worked for Luca, if not Alessandro. Luca didn’t do anything without it advancing Alessandro’s agenda. So why? The pictures were of me and Tomás the first time we kissed at the chapel. I had him by the throat, his eyes at half mast, his lips parted. My body pressed against him.
And then the kiss.
The photographer only got two or three shots, but there were dozens of pictures on my bed. All with varying degrees of zoom. Since my back was to the photographer, most of the images were zoomed into Tomás. As if he’d been the target. And it unsettled me. Only one image had taken my profile. Undeniably me, the others were of Tomás.
What was Luca playing at? Why show me the fucking pictures now? One of the images pulled my attention. There was no one in the frame, only a dilapidated shack and backwater. I plucked it from the pile picking the details apart and recognizing the location. I’d been there once. It’d been the place where I had killed Cillian.
Movement caught my attention behind me, and I spun to the doorway to face Wren.
Wren looked nothing like his father. While Alessandro’s eyes were almost black, Wren’s were the color of a clear blue sky. While Alessandro’s hair fell on the lighter side, Wren’s hair was black as the night sky. The contrasting colors made his sharp features more prominent. While Alessandro blended in with the populous, Wren stuck out. Though at the moment, Wren looked wrecked. Bags under his bloodshot eyes, stubble on his face. As I got closer, I noticed his hands shaking, and a new bandage just under his ear.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorway. His eyes trailed from the bed to me.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked.
“Luca paid a visit.”
“Did he hurt you?” I growled out.
“I could take care of myself,” he hissed back.
“Not like this, you can’t.”
Wren swallowed, pressed his lips together. “Morgan told me about Jack having something damning on one of the families. I think we need to pull on that thread and see what we can find.”
The conversation shift made me flinch. Wren was obsessed with finding something on Alessandro. He believed Alessandro killed his mother to kill him in the womb. It’d been on our list of plans, but shit got pushed back. “We don’t have time for that shit right now, Wren. Luca is here for a reason.”
“Yeah, did it ever occur to you that he’s here because of what Jack found?”
I’d been so wrapped up in Tomás, I hadn’t thought about anything else. “What do you know about it?”
Wren’s gaze shifted to my left. Over my shoulder. “Nothing conclusive, but I know in my gut that Alessandro is involved somehow.”
“Wren, your father—”
“Don’t fucking call him that! He killed my mother. He meant to kill me in the fucking womb. And I’m sure he’s done that to others. That was my in to your fucking group and you’ve done nothing!” Wren’s eyes were ablaze, his mouth a thin line on his face. With River gone, Wren was unrestrained.
And it broke me.
I owed Wren peace just like I owed Tor, Rumor, Fox and all my other brothers.
I cupped Wren’s face. He fought me. But not hard. Then I drew him into my body and held him. He sobbed into my shoulder. I didn’t know the reason for it, whether it was the flood of memories Luca being here brought, the truth he believed that Alessandro killed his mother to kill him in her womb, or that River was getting married, but at the moment, I had to be what he needed. I had to be the pillar to keep him upright.
I pulled away and bumped our foreheads together. He smelled unwashed, drunk. “Tell me what you need. Do you need me to move this forward with no evidence? Do you want me to end Alessandro Mancini as soon as we’re out of lockdown? I’ll do it. I’ll kill him for you if that’s what you need to find your peace.” And that was not a fucking lie. Despite still not having any proof of Alessandro’s wrongdoing, I would kill him without prejudice if it meant keeping Wren sane.
Wren considered it for several seconds, then shook his head. “No. I want, I need the proof.”
“Then we’ll get it. I promise you.”
He nodded. I squeezed the back of his neck and then released him. “Tell me what the fuck did Luca say?”
“I couldn’t stop him. He’s fucking insane and he didn’t care that you knew it was him. He was dressed in his insane getup as if he were hunting.”
“I’ll handle it. Everyone good?”
“Fox and Henry are asleep.” Wren’s eyes landed on the bed again and then at me, a smirk making its way to his handsome face. “So … you and Tomás.”
Fucker. I shoved him out the door, but not hard. I felt myself blush which was stupid. I hadn’t come clean to everyone yet, but I owed Wren the truth too.
He laughed and it lifted a weight off my shoulders.
“For the record, I called it on day one.” He lifted a finger.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
All humor died away when the sound of a siren shrieked in the distance.
My phone buzzed and I startled. And then the house phone started to ring, the sound ominous. An indicator of doomsday. With no other option, I answered my phone.
“Kieran,” Dr. Casera said. He sounded whipped. “You are required to attend a strategic planning meeting at noon today. As an heir, you will have to choose your five participants in the funeral games.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Fuck, Casera. No.”
“It has already been deemed so,” he said, dryly. “It is time to prepare.”
The line went dead.
Wren looked so small and frail in his robe. We didn’t need this fucking shit right now. “Wren,” I said. A hint of desperation and warning in my voice.
“I know. I know.” He started back to his room. “Time to get fucking sober.”
Not what I meant, but that was a good place to start.