I whip my head around to glare at her—to tell her to shut up—but then I see it. And my breath catches.
Rows of glass vials glint inside the open refrigerator next to her.Mymedicine.
Stacked. Dozens of them. Stored like they mean nothing.
God. They’ve been hoarding this much?
And he still acts like it’srare.
I stare, rage boiling up in my throat.
I fucking hate him.
I press a hand to my stomach, steadying the rising nausea—because it’s not just hate, not anymore. It’s disbelief. It’s knowing that every needle, every plea, every moment I begged for relief was a performance to them.
And now I’m here. Hiding like some broken thing while they line their pockets with my pain.
No more.
Malec
“Hi, Mom,” I say as I step into the house. I don’t see her yet, but I can feel her excitement crackling through our bond.
It hits me seconds before it happens.
She was worried. Really worried.
I swallow a chuckle. I hate making her worry—but the way she runs to hug me like I’ve been gone for months? Ridiculous. Every single time.
“My baby!” her voice sings from my right, and just as I predicted, her arms are already around my neck, dragging me down to her height so she can squeeze the life out of me.
She’s making those little noises she used to make when I was a baby—back when she’d squish my cheeks like mochi and call me her “chaos prince.”
“Mom. Do we have to do this every time I go into the ocean?” I grumble, though the smile on my face betrays me.It’s the emotions—when we’re this close, the bond between us hits different. Stronger. Louder.
She pulls back, her turquoise gemstone eyes boring into mine.
“Okay. I’m done.” She exhales dramatically, then raises a single brow. Capo’s wife mode, activated. “What did you find out? You’re back earlier than expected…”
Bay went home to Pedro, which buys me enough time to update Mom before they get back and we’re all pulled into the next mess.
“Is Dad home? I’ll fill you both in.” I scan the wide living room. No sign of Abert, and none of his men are around today either.
“He’s in the office with Mariano. There’s some wedding that’s got them unusually on edge—they’ve been at it since six this morning.” She glances over her shoulder, expecting me to follow as she walks toward the office.
Wedding? I catch up with her.
I really hope it’s not one ofthoseweddings.
I already told my dad what I think about that crap when Aunt Cora’s side in Vegas tried pushing me to marry her cousin’s daughter—Olivia.
No, thanks.
I’m not built for the mafia princess routine. And definitely not for marriage. I’ve got enough souls to feed on.
I’ve sworn to consume souls, not to survive a mafia wife’s nagging.
I don’t need one more to worry about.
