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“He refused to believe you were dead,” she continued.

I heard his voice in a sudden memory that overcame me.

Alessio at sixteen, grinning with blood on his lip because he had taken a beating meant for Marcello and laughed about it afterward.

Alessio at twenty-two, standing beside me in the old chapel after a job neither of us wanted had gone south, saying, “You know you’re allowed to leave before this place chews you up and spits you out.”

And I had left. Without him.

Tone’s face twisted. “He waited until he lost every last hope.”

Archie stepped into the room behind her.

“Tone.”

“No.” She looked at me with ten years of grief in one stare. “He waited. Alessio died still believing you would come home one day. And all this time, you were in a church. Fixing the broken, while leaving us to rot.”

No-one would ever understand my reasons for leaving. I wanted to explain how I had left because I couldn’t breathe in this house that once held me, because violence had begun to feel righteous, because I saw what we were becoming and knew I would turn into a monster if I stayed.

None of that gave Alessio back his waiting. So I said nothing.

Tone looked disgusted. Archie touched her arm then. She jerked once, but didn’t pull away.

He stepped closer to her, his voice low. “Enough for now, Tone.”

“This is only the beginning. He deserves so much more.”

“Probably.” Archie looked at me. “But the child has taken a liking to him, and Marigold is a terrible judge of timing but rarely of people.”

Tone stared at him. He didn’t smile. “You don’t have to forgive him today.”

“I don’t intend to forgive him any day, Archie.”

His hand moved over hers. “You have survived because people gave you a chance to be more than the worst thing you did while broken. Perhaps let him explain before you decide which part of him to hate forever.”

Tone looked at me one more time. Then she left. Archie followed after a small nod, taking the last of the air with him.

Gianni rubbed a hand over his face. “Well. That went better than expected.”

Raze turned on him. “Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

20

ADRIANA

The door clicked shut behind Tone.

I remained where she had left me, while three people studied me.

A dark-haired woman sat in an armchair with several sheets of paper spread across her lap. Beside her, another woman occupied most of the sofa, balancing a teacup against the curve of her stomach while holding a biscuit in her other hand.

Near the fireplace, Marigold lay on her stomach with her bare feet crossed in the air, drawing across a sheet of paper almost as large as she was.

The woman with the biscuit broke the silence.

“Well.” She took a bite and glanced toward the door. “I see Hurricane Antonella is out in full force today.”