Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗧he rain attacked his face in waves, striking and staining the open gash in his forehead as he ran deeper into the storm. He tracked the sound of shoes on faded gravel and pieced together the path his sister and Niccolió had taken by the swayed footprints in the muddy pieces of the ground.
The circus music that had taunted him and Rueben into minor captivity gradually faded behind him the more he sprinted until all he could hear were the wisps of his sister's breath and the fear locked in bolts of static coruscation around them.
Matteo suddenly stopped in the middle of the park, rapidly becoming aware of how dense the patterns in the dirt truly were. His breath escaped in puffs around him, encapsulating him in the moment as he turned around a few times, gauging his surroundings. The wind was strong enough to knock a grown man to his knees—the torrent thick enough to rattle his bones.
He strained to see through the pelting fog.
Gunshots covered his right side.
Shouts remained intense at his back.
But none of it was his sister.
Matteo shut his eyes shut, no longer giving a fuck if he was creating the perfect opportunity for an easy assassination as he desperately attempted to focus on his sibling's whereabouts. He knew his sister was fast—she'd proven that time in and out during childhood—but he also knew that she was not treated well here. Traumas littered her skin as he was sure they tarnished her mind; she would not be at full strength to escape Niccolió.
He cursed himself under his breath, achieving naught.
He'd been a coward since the moment he left his mother's womb. He'd tried to distract himself from that narrative, tried to rewrite the words of a book that hadn't been his to author in the first place—struggled to navigate a world in which he was nothing more than a rat and his predators were hawks circling him like the prey he'd claimed not to be.
Matteo was not the resilient, determined brother who had put his body between his father's hands and his sister's soul. He was not the man who had selflessly shelled the dangers of the mafia in order to learn a few tricks over his father's abuse. He was not the man who'd joined a lethal organization and slandered his name just to force a new plot out of his family's path.
He was the man who had forced his lover to carry his child because he couldn't do anything other than watch. He was the man who had put his faith, trust, and loyalty into the same person who had knowingly and enjoyingly tortured him for three years.
And he still did—he still loved and protected the villain because of his last name.
But he yearned to be better.
To be worthy of his twin sister's love.
Of his daughter's.
Yet, every time he was tasked with a difficult situation, he ran the other way.
