Elias wasn’t really my father. My mother is a lying, whoring bitch. Libby is six feet under and not coming back any time soon, and well—who would want to marry someone who is damaged goods and could accidentally kill you at the drop of a wrong word?
Sighing, I set aside the depressive pity-party thoughts in favor of watching my big sister have the moment she deserves. Life had never been fair to her growing up in Elias’s home. I only wish I had known it sooner. Maybe some of the bloodshed and pain could have been stopped.
I sit on the bench for hours, watching the guests mill around. None of them come back here, though. It is late by the time everyone leaves, and I pack up my camera. Ava left me another message earlier before the ceremony. I listened to it like I have all the other ones.
But it is time to stop.
Taking out my new burner phone, I shoot her a quick text, telling her how proud I am of her and that she needs to stop searching. Stop looking. It isn’t worth the risk.
Two seconds later, I get a response, and for the second time in over two and a half years, I cry.
Me
Never. Sisters always stick together. I love you.
fifty-five
My keys jangle as I shove them in the lock. Turning the key, I grip the handle, and nudge the door open. Balancing groceries is not something I wasever good at. Ava keeps telling me about how I can order groceries to be delivered now, but the thought of some random stranger knowing where I live doesn’t sit well with me.
My daughter also tells me that I don’t need an apartment of my own. There is plenty of room in the new home Matthias has bought for them. The man not only purchased their home, but every home for several city blocks. He tore most of them down to rebuild them into god knows what.
I gratefully decline the invitation. Living that close to my daughter and her new husband is not my idea of a good time. Not that I don’t want to be near her, and her offer comes from a good place, but I spent the last ten plus years under constant watch, able to hear and feel everything without the ability to do shit about it.
Sighing, I set the groceries down on the marble island. The apartment is small, but cosy, with large floor-to-ceiling windows and a sizeable balcony.
It is enough to keep me from feeling stifled and closed in. Matthias offered me a job at his security company, which I gratefully accepted. The money from the McDonough estate is enough to tide me over for a decent amount of time.
The bulk of my father’s fortune was squandered by Sheila and Remus over the years and it looks as if whoever is behind their extracurricular activities of selling women has taken that money and run with it.
Not that I wanted it.
The McDonough mafia is done for. I flew back to Boston to hand over the seat of power to one of my father’s men who was exiled for questioning Remus. He was my father’s second for nearly thirty years and deserves to take it over. There isn’t much left, but he is confident that he can build it back up to what it was.
I know my family’s legacy is in good hands.
Pain pierces my heart when I think about the darkness that has woven its way through my family for generations. I can’t fault Remus and Marianne for the pain they felt at being cast aside or even at my mother for harboring such hate toward my father and grandmother. It is how it all comes about that disgusts me. That, and the fact that my mother so easily cast me aside for being the chosen twin. It is in no way my fault for being born a minute earlier than my sister.
“Hello, Kat.”
A cry of surprise erupts from my throat, and I turn to face who has spoken. He is sitting in one of the overly plush chairs I stuffed into a corner, half covered in shadow. Hazel eyes shoot icy daggers at me. His body is relaxed, one ankle throwncarelessly over the opposite knee, a gun in his hand, the barrel pointed straight at my chest.
His voice is all smoke and gravel, almost hoarse.
Why does it sound so familiar yet also so foreign?
I haven’t turned any of the lights on, so the only source of light comes from the windows which makes it hard to see his full form. As if sensing this, he reaches a gloved hand out toward the standing light and with a soft click, a warm glow fills the darkened space.
My lips part slightly, eyes widening in recognition and horror when his face is revealed. He looks different from when I last saw him, then again, he was burned to death after being shot.
At least he was supposed to have been.
Noah Kelly.
Fear surges through me unbidden, and goosebumps break out over my skin, causing me to shiver slightly. The left side of his face is a scarred mess of skin. His lips on that side are missing causing a permanent sneer and his left eye is glassy and unmoving.
Clenching my jaw, I swallow back the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. “Noah.”
The right side of his face lifts into what is no doubt supposed to be a smile but resembles more of a grimace.