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“Luca,” Rocco barked out his son’s name, causing Luca to jump to his feet. “Let’s go.” To me, he gave a nod of his head and added, “Hope you heal up soon, Giselle.” Something unspoken twinkled in his eyes, and before I could say anything in response, he was gone, dragging Luca with him.
And then it was just me, my father, and Zander.
I could’ve told my father about the card I had hidden underneath the blanket, how its message was hand-written by someone who signed their name with the letter A. I knew there was only one A, Atlas, the leader of the Greenback Serpents, the man with no face. My father would want to know. He’d probably get upset, but then again, telling him might be doing him a favor.
I didn’t think it was the Cunninghams who tried to kill me. If anything, it was probably one of Atlas’s men, one of those filthy Serpents, and he’d written me the note and bought me the flowers just so he could taunt me.
“I have to get going,” my father said. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. Just take it easy and focus on healing.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, watching him go without saying another word.
Zander stuck his hands in his pockets, doing much the same. Once my father was gone, he said, “You two aren’t very close, are you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I just… I always thought you two were, but lately, I’ve been seeing things.” Those green eyes were back on me, lively and vivid, a beautiful emerald color, even from across the room. “You two hate each other, don’t you?”
I couldn’t exactly admit to Zander that I hated my father and everything he stood for, that I also hated this life he’d built for us and totally despised the things he’d have me do—what he’d already forced me to do. So, instead, I said, “I can’t speak for him. I can only speak for me. I don’t hate him. He’s my father, and as he always says, family is everything.”
Zander then said something I wasn’t expecting: “It doesn’t have to be.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, nor did I know what to say in response. When you were basically a mafia princess, a mob boss’s daughter, it was drilled into your head from the very day you were born. Everything you were, everything you would be; you owed it to your family. You did whatever you could to further your family’s name, even if it meant you did things you didn’t want to.
It’s why I didn’t fight my father when he told me I’d be spending some time with Rocco three years ago, and yet there was not a single thing more in my past that I wished I could change—other than being there to save Father Charlie.
So, in the end, I simply muttered, “I know.”
Zander rushed over to the side of the bed, practically kneeling beside me. He didn’t touch me, but he gripped the side of the hospital bed so tightly his knuckles turned white. The expression on his face was urgent, but beyond that, I couldn’t read it. “No, I mean it, Giselle. Family isn’t everything. Your father doesn’t have to be everything. You don’t need to listen to him like his word is law.”
What was his problem? What was this, all of a sudden? I didn’t think I’d ever heard Zander talk like this before, and I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my gut that told me there was a reason for this. There was no way he’d say any of these things just because.
“What’s going on, Zander?”
“Just… be careful, okay?” He let out a sigh that encompassed everything in his body, his shoulders slumping. “If something happens to you, I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but I can promise you this: it won’t be pretty.” He said nothing else, getting up and leaving my bedside. He left the room, going to stand in the hall, his back to the window to my room.
What was that about? I replayed the conversation in my head again, and I came up with no possibilities. I had no idea what it was about, why Zander had said those things. I wished I could get out of this bed by myself and demand answers from him, but since I had to call the nurse just to go to the bathroom, I knew that wasn’t in the realm of possibility right now.
No, I had to focus on getting stronger, on healing, and then I could ream into Zander and demand clarification.
Letting that go was one of the hardest things I had to do, but luckily for me, I had a distraction, and that was the get well card from Atlas. I pulled it out from underneath the blanket and studied it once more, memorizing every detail on it.
Someday soon there would be a reckoning between this Atlas and me. I’d killed some of his men, and from what it sounded like, that priest had taken care of a few more. Now that he knew where I was, who I was, it was only a matter of time until he came to me—or sent more of his men after me. If the wound in my abdomen was from Atlas, it was only an omen for what was to come.
I was not scared of Atlas. I’d lived through so much, lost everything I cared about. Why the hell would I be scared? No, I was so far past that point that I could only say one thing, and that thing was: bring it on.
Let Cypress throw everything it had at me. If it killed me, it killed me, but if it didn’t? If it didn’t, I would rise above the ashes as a new woman, unshackled to my father.
