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Amara felt her chest go tight, her hands protectively covering her belly.
“And you know what I had?” Nerea took another step, her hand stroking the gun at the side of her hip. “I had an abusive father who let his friends rape me. I had a shittier mother for leaving me with him after she knew what he’d done. And I had no friends because he started training me to be a spy.”
Her heart hurt for the woman, even as her senses stayed alert. “I know how the shame feels, Nerea. I know how it stains your soul.”
“No, you don’t,” Nerea shook her head with a laugh. “What, you think you get tortured for three days and raped by three men, you know how it feels? You can never know, Amara, because after he ordered them to let you go, you had people who coddled you and sent you to fucking therapy, for god’s sake. I had a cold room and training to attend in the morning. So, no, Amara, you’ll never know how it feels. The dark in your soul is but a blemish. The dark in mine is an eclipse.”
The pain in her voice, the anguish in her face, the torture in her eyes made Amara’s heart bleed, her pulse pounding in her veins as blood rushed to her ears.
Nerea chuckled at her silence. “I was fine, you know. I was coping. Until Xavier gave me the assignment to be the spy in the Outfit, and get close to you on the side, just to make sure you didn’t blab anything. They accepted me because I was his daughter, and I came here happy that I had a sister, happy we didn’t know our father, happy that she could understand my pain, hoping to connect. And I saw you – beautiful, scarred Amara who had a mother who loved her, a friend who protected her, and the fucking prince of the Outfit in the palm of her hands. That upset me, Amara.”
Amara felt a tightening in her stomach, her breathing getting a little labored. “I’m sorry,” she told her sister, her heart clenching in pain. “I’m so sorry for everything, Nerea.”
Nerea tilted her head to the side, considering her. “You know, I think you might actually mean that. And that just makes me hate you even more.”
The intensity of that emotion emanating from the older woman hit Amara square in the chest, sending pain down her stomach. Amara gripped her bump, willing herself to stay calm and not stress the baby, but fuck it was hard. She needed to get out of the room.
Amara went to take a step to the side, only to have the other woman block her, and her heart began to pound uncontrollably.
The baby. She had to stay calm for the baby. She couldn’t lose her too. Not now.
Amara took a deep breath in, willing her body to listen to her brain. “Let me out, Nerea.”
Nerea smiled. “We’re just having a long-overdue conversation, sister.”
Amara glanced at the gun on her hip, swallowing. “I don’t understand. You were so nice to me, especially when I was exiled.”
“Oh, I was happy when you got exiled,” her sister mentioned, playing with the gun on her hip. “Lorenzo didn’t really care about what Dante was doing with you. You were an insider and a servant’s daughter, and he didn’t care where Dante stuck his dick. It wasn’t until I
whispered to him how emotionally attached Dante was to you, how you were seeing dreams of taking over his empire, how you would bring the Maroni name to shame. Oh, he ate it up, the egotistical jackass.”
She remembered the day she’d been called to the mansion out of the blue, the entire conversation in the room, the way her heart had broken.
“I thought you’d be in pain and I was happy,” Nerea shook her head in disbelief. “But no, you’re Amazing Amara. You got a full fucking ride to university to study what you wanted, you got a beautiful apartment, you got a car, you even got a fucking cat. Guess it pays to fuck the prince, huh.”
Rage, so deep and vicious and old, flooded her system. Amara had always chalked everything that had happened to fate but staring at this woman she shared half her blood with, realizing that she was responsible for the pain and loneliness she had suffered, that Dante had suffered, pure, unadulterated rage engulfed her.
She stayed silent, seething, pieces clicking into place.
Nerea took the gun out of the holster, and Amara turned slightly to the side, instinctively shielding her womb. This woman might have destroyed her but she would not destroy her daughter, not as long as she had a breath in her body. She needed to buy time.
Pretending to be afraid and half-afraid, Amara softly asked her. “You’re the one who sent those guys to Los Fortis, didn’t you?”
Nerea smiled. “How do you think Dante found you so quickly? I got you the fake passport, remember? I knew exactly where you were, and I told him that you’d mentioned going there.”
Amara nodded. It made sense. “And Alpha? You went to see him?”
Nerea laughed. “Lorenzo told me about his bastard son a few days before he died, and I was curious. And since I was already in Los Fortis, I set up a meeting with him. He’s a suspicious bastard though. Knew something was up immediately. I was sloppy, flying from Shadow Port. He connected it to you, I guess, and his men almost saved you and Dante.”
Amara made a note to invite him to the wedding, just to thank him for being good to her and trying to save them.
“Thankfully, my men got you out before he could interfere,” Nerea sighed. “They all thought you weren’t supposed to be taken, that Dante was the target, but he wasn’t. It was always you. Taking you two to that place was for you. It was a nice touch, wasn’t it?”
The memory of being tied to that chair again, bleeding between her legs, losing her child assaulted her, the fear, the pain, the anger revolting everything inside her. Amara felt hatred, true hatred, seep into her pores.
“I lost my baby,” Amara whispered, the muscles in her body tight, her hands fisted on the side. “I lost my child because of you.”
A smile came over Nerea’s face, the sight sending revulsion through her system. “I’m glad.”
