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“Tell me the rest.” The words tasted sick and twisted on my lips.

Uncle Cedric sniffed. Tears continued to roll. He managed to talk through the sobs. “Dad started to thrash. I ran over and held his arms down, because if we didn’t finish it, he’d kill us both. I knew it and she did too. She looked terrified, but she held the pillow there, and I kept Daddy from moving too much. He fought terribly, like he wanted to live, even if he was so drunk he could barely stand. He pissed himself, and when it was finally over, your mother fell back, crying. I said, ‘Connie, what did you do? Oh, god, what did we do, Connie?’ She sat there sobbing, distraught, out of her mind with grief and fear.

“I did what I thought I had to do. I helped her pack. I got her things together. I told her to run, to leave the house and never come back. I’d take the blame if it came to that. I’d protect her from the questions, and there were questions and investigations and inquiries. Through it all, I protected her, distracted everyone. I took control of the family and inherited what I could, and I wanted to give Connie her cut, but she refused it. I never wanted things to be like this. We used to be so close. But after that night, it all fell apart.” He hung his head and cried.

My mother killed her father. And Uncle Cedric covered it up for her.

I turned my back. I floated to the door.

“Are you happy?” Laurel asked, her voice venom. “Are you happy you got Daddy to tell you that? Granddad was a bastard. He was a piece of trash. Are you happy?”

“No,” I said and left the room.

I drifted to Nervosa. He pulled me against him and held me tight. I could barely think. I didn’t understand what was happening around me.

Mother killed him. She did it. She was the one, and suddenly it all made so much sense.

The diary, the letter. Everything.

“Griffin got in contact,” Nervosa said in my ear. “Silvano tried to kill him, but he’s safe. We’re moving on the bastard now.”

“Good,” I said, and kissed my Oligarch on the lips. “Let’s end this.”

Chapter 26

Nervosa

The lead Rover in the caravan of black trucks and SUVs rammed through the chain-like gate in a splash of sparks. The metal squealed and snapped, breaking aside, and the man in the guard booth screamed into a hand-held radio and watched as we roared past.

“You’re staying in the car,” I said, my hand on Melanie’s thigh. I squeezed tight. “No arguments this time.”

“It’s okay. I won’t fight you on it.”

“Good.” I hesitated. She’d been distant since the warehouse. I’d only gotten half the story from her so far, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the rest. Her mother was the killer and her uncle covered it up for years, and Melanie had gone to such great lengths and treated him like a bastard. She probably hated herself for what she’d done.

I loved her for it.

There were few people in this world with the guts to take what they wanted. Most folks drifted through their days, going from job to job, falling asleep and waking no different. The world happened to them and not the other way around.

Melanie was different. She wanted better, and she strove to take it. She came to Stanford, tracked down her uncle, and got the truth—even if it took ruthlessness and cunning. I was impressed, and my feelings for her blossomed and grew, sprouting like ivy wrapped around my heart.

She couldn’t see how special she was. Right now she was too busy hating herself for what she’d done, but soon she’d realize, and if she didn’t, I’d make her see. There was real beauty in her determination, and true strength in her grit and intelligence, and I wouldn’t let her walk around thinking she was anything less than incredible.

The caravan pulled up in the factory parking lot. There were few cars around, and most of them were clustered near the building. It was quiet and empty, and a knot tangled itself around my stomach.

“Palmira will stay with you,” I said as my men began to assemble. Erin and Redmond’s forces joined them. “She’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“Are you sure? You might need her inside.”

“If we need her, this likely won’t be a fight we can win.”

I turned to go, but she grabbed my wrist. I looked back and she leaned forward, kissing me recklessly. I returned it, a desperate and intense entanglement, and when I pulled away, I touched her cheek and lingered.

“I’ll come back, don’t worry,” I whispered.

“I know you will. I don’t think there’s a man in this world that can kill you.”

I laughed softly and wrenched myself away. For the second time that day, I threw myself out of the car and into danger.

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