And the training camps helped prepare the next generation. By the age of thirteen, we already knew how to safely prepare poisons. Ivy’s crazy ass tested many of the poisons on herself and was now impervious to most of them.
By the summer I turned fifteen, I knew how to handle most of the weapons in my mom’s secret closet. By the time I was seventeen, she’d made me a secret closet of my own. They’d taught us how to survive, because gathering intel often came with consequences.
As the hub grew and changed, so did the classes we took. Which was how I’d gotten into hacking. One of the Petals who taught the computer classes decided it would be a good idea for us to learn hacking skills.
I’d become one of her protégés and had even decided to attend the local university and earn a degree in Computer Science. Kelly had gone to the camp after returning to us. But she’d started late and had missed out on growing up with the kids in her classes.
So even there, she’d felt like an outcast. She hadn’t had a chance to grow up around the older Petals and hear all their stories. Things like that were important. Being together and sharing meals was important.
Treating each other like family was what made The Circuit work so well. One day, our future children would head out to that same country estate to receive the same training we had.
Ivy already taught a weapons course there during the summer. Some summers, I taught hacking to the teens. To others, what we did may seem criminal. But that wasn’t what we were about.
Marcel was the only incident in recent years where our intel had led to an innocent getting hurt. Normally, we were the ones helping protect the innocent. My grandparents had created this hub to protect their community.
And over the years, most of the intel gatherers were women because it was easier for us to get into some spaces than it was for men. Sometimes it was because the people in those spaces thought we were dumb, weak, easily dismissed.
They didn’t consider us a threat, so they let their guard down, making it easier for us to do our jobs. But there were times when innocent people got hurt because things went wrong.
There were times when Petals, like Kelly’s mom, lost their lives when things went wrong. This time, a young man was hurt because of us. I couldn’t fix that. I couldn’t change it. By the time I’d made it home, it had already been too late to protect him.
We’d fucked up. There was no denying that. And one day, retribution may come for us. I had to be ready for that. From our previous conversations, I knew Rome had afamily-firstmentality.
He would do anything for his family. But so would I. My gaze drifted to my red tulips. I knew Rome Cattaneo would kill for his family. But so would I. And though I prayed it wouldn’t come to that, if I had to choose between him and them, I’d choose them.
Just like he’d have to choose his family over me. It was scary how much our tales mirrored the tragedy of Shakespeare’s play, Romeo and Juliet. We were doomed, just like those star-crossed lovers were.
Doomed to love the one person you were supposed to hate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ROME
––––––––
I’d been up for hours, staring at these fucking flowers, my thoughts chaotic. Night had fallen, and still, I sat here, drink in hand, trying to drown my sorrows in liquor. It wasn’t working. The sorrows were still there.
It was after midnight now, and I was tipsy as hell, but I couldn’t sleep. I'd tried. I'd even showered and gotten in bed, hoping exhaustion would eventually defeat my sorrow and give me a few hours of respite. It hadn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Blossom standing behind the register, calmly telling me she had a boyfriend. Then the image would change, and I'd see her standing beside those red tulips, smiling up at me like I was the only man in the world.
Neither version of her would leave me the fuck alone.
Giving up on sleep, I'd grabbed me a bottle of liquor, wandered back to the living room, and slumped down onto the couch. The bottle of whiskey was now half full. I reached for it again, uncapped it, and poured myself another drink.
Leaning back against the couch cushion, I lifted the glass to my lips and took a slow sip. The burn barely registered anymore. My gaze drifted toward the center of the table. The red tulips were still sitting exactly where I'd left them.
I hadn't touched them. I couldn't. They were supposed to represent everything we'd been building together.Undying love.Loyalty. Trust. I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swallow of whiskey.
"What a fucking joke."
Love. Loyalty. Trust.
She didn’t even know what those words meant. And my dumb ass had believed every word that came out of her mouth while she'd stood beside those flowers, gently brushing her fingertips over the petals as she explained what they symbolized.
I'd watched her eyes light up while she talked. I'd smiled like a damn fool, thinking we were sharing a moment that actually meant something to both of us. Now I couldn't stop wondering whether she'd been lying to me even then.
Maybe tulips didn’t even represent love at all. When it came to this woman, I didn’t know what was real and what was fake. All I knew was that my feelings for her were true and I hated that.
