AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nobody asks to be brought into this crazy world we call life, but to not even have your family there to support and protect you? Shit, I can’t even begin to imagine how that must feel, which only serves to piss me off even more because I’m not supposed to feel compassion for her. Not at all.
Matteo clears his throat as he adjusts his tie, trying to hide the fact that he’s affected by her words, just like I am, and by the way Enzo shifts in his seat too, I would say he’s feeling the same.
“None of that is relevant now,” Matteo grumbles as I hear Nonna scoff from where she’s standing with her arms folded over her chest, watching us intently.
“You guys were the ones to bring up the games. I just wanted to give a reality check.” Wren’s fake smile widens as she stares Matteo down.
God, I hate how fucking fantastic she is with her sass and attitude, and the way she carries herself tells me she’s not all mouth either. We have to remember she was trained at Featherstone Academy, and the way Totem spoke of it, it’s something to definitely watch for.
“Totem promised us—”
“For fuck’s sake. I don’t care what my father promised you. You were fools for thinking he would follow through on whatever bullshit you agreed on, and you’re even more foolish for thinking you are still going to get it.” Wren’s jaw tenses as she stands, her chair scraping across the floor behind her as she plants her palms flat on the table.
I can’t decide if she’s mad or frustrated, but either way, the red tinge to her cheeks is undeniable. I’m sure anyone else in front of her, hearing her tone and venom coating every word, would sink on the spot, but not Matteo. He’s just as sadistic as she is when it comes to this fucking power play.
Slowly, Matteo rises from his seat too, matching her stance right down to placing his hands on the table the exact same width apart.
“He promised me an heir from his daughter,” he spits, his voice low and murderous as he tries to keep his anger at bay. “He was quite a fan of selling women, including you it seems.”
His words are a lie. A push at her. We would never do anything in exchange for a woman. Ever. Human trafficking is where we draw the line. We’re not angels. Fuck, we know which afterlife we’re heading to, but we’ll go knowing very well that we stayed true to that rule.
I expect Wren to gape in horror, bark back in anger, or maybe even sob like a heartbroken girl, but she does none of that. Instead, she does what she keeps doing. Catching me off guard.
A scoff falls from her lips, followed by another and another as she pushes up off the table, shaking her head in disbelief at Matteo’s words, before it suddenly morphs into a burst of laughter. It’s my turn to stare at her as she laughs, all the way from her gut, swiping her hands over her cheeks to discard the tears that have escaped, before she looks Matteo dead in the eye. All her humor is gone, and in its place, stands a stone-cold woman.
“Then he played you, Matteo. Well, he played you or you’re downright lying to me because my motherfucker of a father didn’t want me to be distracted. Not in any way, shape, or form, and that involved him having my tubes tied when I was fifteen years old.” Her words hit me square in the face as I see the truth shining in her eyes and my jaw falls slack.
Silence blankets us. But even if Wren is pleased with the fact that she’s rendered us speechless, it doesn’t show in the fake smile plastered on her face. No. It’s as fake as her name being Ava.
She clenches and unclenches her hands at her sides a few times, before she rolls her shoulders back and turns away from us. “Sorry, Nonna, I’ll take a pass on the food right now,” she states before turning for the door, not waiting for a response from the woman nodding with a scowl firmly set on her face.
She’s not mad at Wren, I can sense it. She’s mad at the words that just spilled from her mouth.
It’s only when Wren gets to the doorway that Matteo hollers after her, but we all know it’s too little, too late. “We’re not done here.”
But it’s not Wren who spins around and puts him in his place, it’s Nonna.
“You’re more than done here, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
14
WREN
My body aches from the tension that hasn’t stopped vibrating through me since I stormed out of the kitchen. If my childhood taught me anything, it’s that the only person that is going to protect me, is me. I don’t have to lie or exaggerate, my life really was that shitty, which then made me even shittier. Although it did give me truthful horrors that stop people in their tracks.
I needed to get out of that room, away from the three of them and the hint of pity that flashed in each of their gazes as they stared at me in shock.
Looking out of the window as the evening sun sets, I run the towel over my damp hair, my body missing the pounding of the water even though I’ve hopped in three times already. Those fuckers had me turning into a damn prune. I can’t stop stepping under the spray as I think, think, and think again about everything happening around me.
Once I’m satisfied with my hair not dripping down my spine on my new clothes, I move over to the mirror. I found a hairdryer in the closet earlier when I started unpacking all of the shopping bags. It feels ridiculous that I removed every item from the bags and found it a home.
It’s like I’m deluding myself and assume I’m going to survive long enough for their chosen places to matter, but it was the only thing I could occupy myself with so I didn’t step into the shower again. Besides, I’ve learned to control what I can, and this is something I have the power over. Small or not.
The reality of the situation is I’m getting antsy. I don’t do well doing nothing, getting the opportunity to get lost in my mind, tear it all apart, only to fail miserably at piecing it all back together again.
Not that any of that matters to the De Luca brothers. No. They are dead set on trying to extract pointless information from me. Information I likely don’t have or know, not that I’m going to tell them that, not when it may be the only thing keeping me alive.
Shaking my head, I focus on the new clothes I'm wearing, attempting to pull myself from my thoughts as I run my hands over the cuteMomjeans I picked out today. They’re frayed slightly at the hem, a distressed color adding to the effect, and I love them. With a fitted white tank top tucked into the waistline and an oversized sweatshirt, I feel comfy and relaxed for the first time since I got here. Despite all of the bullshit I’m sinking in.
