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“You left me to them!” I scream. “Like a wounded animal left to the wolves! I’ll never fucking forgive you!”
Hands pull at me, the distance between my brother and me increasing, but it isn’t Hollis that is keeping me from hurting him. The woman that opened the door is in front of me now, her frown so deep it leaves shadows on her forehead.
“I need you to calm down,” she says, her palm somehow comforting on my cheek.
“Lauren,” someone growls. “I swear to fuck if she hurts you or the baby…”
The warning is clear in his voice but she doesn’t back away.
I drop my eyes to her swollen belly.
“I’d never,” I vow, earning a soft nod from her.
“Just breathe. We’ll get to the bottom of all of this. I promise.”
I do as she says but only because I can’t function with my heart rate so damn high. I don’t hold anyone to promises any longer. I always end up on the losing end of them.
I look around the room. Nash looks like he’s enjoying a cinematic blockbuster. Hollis is simmering, his hands clenched at his sides. Angel still has his eyes locked on me like he’s willing to pull my limbs from their sockets if I so much as twitch in his woman’s direction.
Lauren looks like she’s ready to spit nails, and I have no idea who her anger is directed at.
Elio, or Donavan as the others called him, steps forward. Unlike I did when we were kids, I shrink down a little rather than hold my chin higher. The boy I grew up with would never hurt me. I’m not as certain about this man.
I don’t pull away when he grabs my arm and spins me toward the front door of the office.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hollis growls, shoving Elio and forcing him to break his hold on me.
“Guys,” Lauren growls, but the two men stand nose to nose, nonverbal threats swirling between the two of them.
“She’s my sister, and she’s coming with me,” Elio growls.
Hollis breaks eye contact first, his head turning in my direction.
I’m not sure I’m safe with Elio, but I have so many unanswered questions, I don’t fight when my brother takes a step back and directs me out of the office.
My mind is a jumbled mess. If Elio is alive, it means so many things. Maybe I won’t have to marry Alessio. If the Lombardi heir is alive, then the money the Severinos expect isn’t mine.
The man doesn’t speak as he ushers me into a dark truck. He doesn’t open his mouth as he drives either.
I commit this new man to memory, letting my eyes scrape down every exposed inch of him. The tattoos, the earrings, nothing screams Lombardi. He looks less like my dad right now and more like my mother’s father, the grandfather neither of us liked growing up. Our grandfather was a ruthless man, one who kept the feud between the Lombardi and Severino families alive out of spite.
If I passed him in the street and only gave him a quick glance, I probably wouldn’t even recognize him as my brother. He’s that incredibly different.
I’m questioning my choice when he parks outside of a motel fifteen minutes later.
There’s a very good chance I’m no safer with this man than I would’ve been with Alessio and his guards.
It makes me wish that Hollis were here, despite knowing I’ll probably never see the man again.
Regrets swim inside of me when Elio turns off the truck and gives me his undivided attention.
Chapter 27
Hollis
I watch the closed door for longer than I probably should. I don’t know that I expect her to run back through it and into my arms, but damn I’m left reeling with everything that just played out.
“What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?” Angel asks, his voice so calm it’s almost scary.
Madelene made her choice. She wasn’t exactly under duress when she left here, and that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from running after her.
I turn to face Nash, ready to exact my revenge for busting into my house, but Angel, predicting what’s going to happen, steps in between us.
I could easily blow up right now, and the thought that I would get shot twice, possibly three times if Lauren is having a bad day, is the only thing that keeps me from lunging over Angel onto Nash.
“I want fucking answers,” I growl. “Who the fuck is that guy?”
“Don’t take that fucking tone with me, asshole,” Angel says, stepping closer, simmering with rage.
“Can we take the fucking testosterone down a couple fucking notches?” Lauren says, stepping between Angel and me.
She must know neither one of us would put her unborn child in danger.
Angel visibly calms when she presses her palm to his chest.
“That,” she begins, “is Donavan Gibson. At least that’s the name he’s using now.”
