AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shake my head.
“No,” I tell her. “I need to do this alone.”
She lets out a long sigh but doesn’t argue. I think she understands my need for some space and independence. Yelena is a mafia princess, just like me, and even though she is afforded some freedoms, it’s limited.
“If you’re sure,” she says and pulls the car into a parking spot near the entrance of the cemetery. “Just call me if you want me to pick you up.” I nod. I’m glad that Adrian had decided to let me have a phone. Otherwise, I would have had to walk here.
“Take this.” Yelena hands me a black credit card. “Use it to get a Lyft or something if I can’t come and get you.” She screws up her nose. I smile a little. Yelena had snuck out of the penthouse to do this for me.
“Thank you.” I open the door and get out of the car. “I appreciate this.”
She smiles. “Us mafia girls got to stick together.” I chuckle and close the door, not waiting for her to pull out before heading into the gloomy cemetery before me. I don’t have to worry about a map. I know where to go. I was there when Cora was buried. At the time, I didn’t understand what it meant to be buried here. I didn’t know the history. Now I do, and I regret everything my family has done. This isn’t the place for her.
The afternoon sun is hot on my back as I trudge to the furthest side of the cemetery. A few trees dot the long expanse of space, but most of it is open to the elements. It isn’t a well-cared-for resting place. Most of the stones are cracked and the names are fading. What little grass there is, is overgrown. Small tumbleweeds litter the walking spaces.
There are small sheds near every section of plots for visitors to use. This place doesn’t allow for a groundskeeper. It’s a DIY situation here. I grab a shovel from the nearest shed and make my way to the grave.
Hopefully, karma doesn’t come biting me in the ass for disturbing someone’s resting place. Although, if I’m right, this particular someone doesn’t belong in this grave. The ground is hard, and I have a difficult time digging the shovel into the dirt, but once I get past the surface, it slowly becomes easier.
Time passes and I’m barely aware of the sun sinking behind me. It is growing dark and the lights in the graveyard have flicked on, but I’m still digging away. I must be close.Christós, I hope I am.A desperate ache is spreading up my lower back from digging hunched over. My palms are cracked and bleeding, fingers stiff. Sweat drips down my forehead and into my eyes, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
The need to find out who is targeting me is greater than the pain. Nothing is adding up. I’m adding two and two and getting seven instead of four. I can understand Cora targeting my family, especially my father, but why me? The time I got with her was short, but she’d always treated me with kindness and compassion. She used to smile when Ada and I played together, her eyes a little sad.
Now I know the reason for that sadness. We were sisters and we never knew it.
Destined from the beginning.
That is also something that doesn’t add up.
Ada lying to Adrian about her mother. The accusation against her when he’d mentioned that she’d betrayed him. None of that sounds like my best friend.
Then again.
When I think back on the years, I realize how much I might have missed. It’s funny how, when you take a step back, your world opens a bit more and you see things from a different angle. I thought Ada had changed after her mother’s sudden death, but now I can see that it started before then. It started the night I thought she’d been carving my birthmark into her skin.
Svetlana says it wasn’t a scar from her cutting.
Which means she had been trying to shear it off.
The lightbulb dings.
She knew. Ada knew I was her sister and had been trying to remove the mark that signified her as a Castellanos. Did Cora tell her who she was? My father?
“What do you dream about?”I ask Ada as we lie in my bed. The morning sun has begun to slowly rise but we haven’t been to sleep yet. Some nights are harder than others for Ada without her mom. It’s been nearly a year since her passing, and I can tell that she is lonely without her mother to sleep at her side.
“Justice,” she whispers, a dark note to her tone.
“Against whom?” I ask curiously. Maybe she wants justice against the man who blew the red light and killed her mother. But then, my father said that man was already serving a life sentence in jail for manslaughter.
“The bitter man and the pleasant man.”
“Who?” I tilt my head, my gaze searching hers.
Ada sighs. “You don’t know them,” she says sadly. “You’re lucky.”
“Are these men in your dreams?”
