by Leah Holt
Snapping my head over my shoulder, I growled. “Listen to him? How about he'll hear me loud and clear when he's six feet under. But until then, he's still dead to me.”
Rolling my eyes back to Sesto, his features grew hard. He wanted to lash out at me, tell me to go fuck myself. I could see it, I knew how he thought. His hands were curled in, his feet had spread shoulder-width apart.
Sesto was setting himself up to hold his ground.
But he wouldn't try anything because he knew I was right. Ratting to the cops about things we'd done, things we were going to do. . .
That was like tying a noose around his own neck. All he needed was a chair to jump off of.
“Hear me out.” His voice rang in submission, like a dog giving in to its pack leader.
Sesto knew I was in charge, he knew he couldn't come in here and just expect me to roll over and listen to what he had to say.
He already said enough.
My muscles burst through the skin, firming and rolling into rock. Lunging forward, I slammed my fist into his face.
And it felt good—great actually. I'd wanted to do that for so long since all that shit went down. From the moment my father called to tell me that Seston had turned on us, to watching his smug fucking face on the news as the police hauled him in; I've wanted to draw blood.
But he didn't go down like Vince and I wouldn't expect him to.
Sesto was raised just like me, he could take a hit. He wouldn't cower and beg for mercy, he'd take his punishment and never say a fucking a word about it.
But he wouldn't just stand there like stagnant water either. We were both raised as fighters, so that's what he did, he fought back.
Charging me like a bull, Sesto threw his arms around my waist, knocking the wind from my lungs, and landing us both on the floor.
Ivy let out a gasp, followed by a soft scream. From the corner of my eye, I could see her inching back, getting out of the way.
This wasn't a fight she wanted any part of. This was between us.
Brother against brother.
Trying to put his weight on my chest, Sesto leaned in hard, his growl a perfect match to mine. “Just fucking listen me to, Dante!”
“No.” The word came out as the air found its way back in. Using my size, I was able to lift him enough to get out from under him. Twisting around, I was on his back, yanking one of his arms up between his shoulder blades. “You're leaving now and you're not going to come back to this house, ever! Do you understand me?” Bracing my knee in between his legs, I got some leverage and lifted us both to our feet.
Ivy had curled into a ball in the corner, watching us like a statue frozen in time. Her eyes bugged from her head, her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she looked so small.
There was a nervous flicker in her eyes. I wasn't sure if she expected both of us to draw our guns and start shooting up the place.
Did she worry that there was the chance she'd get trapped in the crossfire and lose her life before she ever had the opportunity to gain it back?
She didn't have to worry, I'd take the bullet for her. But not before I knew she was safe.
Sesto would have his day, just like Remo. But he was a small fly in the game of big fish.
Holding him in an arm-bar, I shoved him out the door and walked us both downstairs. Kicking his feet, Sesto tried to break free. But I had always been bigger and stronger than him. Ever since we were kids, everyone always thought I was the oldest.
Sesto unfortunately got his height from my mother's side. But that didn't stop him from being one of the most feared men in the city. He was a small dog, but he had a big bite.
If we weren't brothers and I didn't know who the hell he was, I might even feel a little intimidated by him. His eyes were as black as my father's, his mouth always held this gritty curl, giving the impression he was always pissed.
And between us, some of the shit he'd done would make you think twice about not locking your door at night.
But all of that was just a mask, it was learned, not lived. Sesto had always been fair, he'd always listened before he acted, and he took a lot of shit into consideration before he jumped.
Now. . .
Now he was another fucking street rat whose word meant nothing. I was done with him.
“I don't care where you go, I don't care what you do. . .” Taking in a large gulp of air, I shoved him out the front door, still open wide from me barreling through. “But whatever happens, you don't come back here ever again.”
Sesto stumbled forward, regaining his balance and turning around just in time to see me close the door in his face.
He had some set of balls showing up here.
And even bigger balls for staying when he knew I'd be coming back.
Fuck my brother.
Ten
Ivy
What the fuck just happened?
How could someone have so much anger towards their family?
Did he really have that hatred or was he just bred to be cold?
Sesto didn't seem like the guy Dante painted him out to be, he appeared to me like a pretty loyal brother.
Yes, he had scared the shit out of me when he appeared in the doorway, but to his credit, he hadn't realized we were here. Sesto had come to this house for the same reason we did, safety.
He was worried about Dante, he was worried about what had happened to his father. There was sadness in his eyes and pain in his expressions.
That didn't seem like the type of emotional baggage someone would carry if they ratted out all their family's dirty laundry and didn't give a shit.
Something just isn't right with that whole thing.
I could feel it. Reading people was what I did, watching and observing every minute detail of how they moved their face, wiggled their brows and held their eyes; it spoke volumes to me.
Sesto wasn't evil. He was lost, just like Dante. Both men had been raised by a tyrant, a power hungry, money enthusiast named Bane.
They were both doomed from the start.
Dante came storming back up the stairs, his nose blowing out steam like a damn bull on a cold day. He wouldn't even look at me as he walked by.
Instead, he charged over to the food Sesto had gone out and gotten for us, stuffing it all back into the bag with fierce hatred.
Dante wanted it gone, he wanted anything that could even waft the scent of his brother into his face erased. It was as if those things in some way resembled him losing another battle, despite how much we needed them.
At least I got what I really needed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress. My fingers played with a small string that separated from the rest of the seam. Twirling it around my index finger, I plucked it free.
“We're not taking his handouts, we don't need them. This shit is garbage now.” Grabbing the can of tea, he walked into the bathroom and started to dump it down the sink.
“Dante, he didn't bring that as a gesture of good faith, I asked him to go grab us some stuff. He didn't have to do it, but he did.”
Through slit lids, Dante peered at me from the dark room. Even though he hadn't turned on the light and he was standing in complete darkness, his eyes glowed from the pure adrenaline that was still running through his veins.
“Why the fuck would you ask him to get us anything? I could've done this, I could've gone out and gotten this shit.”
Tilting my head, I spoke as gentle as I could. “You've been gone all day—again. We needed some shit and you weren't here to get it. Besides, you said it yourself, it's too dangerous for us to be running around this city. Sesto went without thinking twice about it. Maybe. . .” My voice drifted into the air, losing weight and turning to dust.
There was nothing but hate in his eyes. His teeth clamped down, grinding side to side. His hands kept opening and closing by his sides, crushing the can like it was made of paper. Dante was pissed. But it wasn't at me, it was at his brother.
I had to catch myself before I made the situation worse and he tried to whisk me away and force me to forget the real reason we came back. The wrong choice of words could push him over the edge, turning our entire return here into a waste of time.
I wouldn't be swayed.
“Maybe what?”
Even if I wanted to lie to him right then, I couldn't. He was being so thick-headed about this whole thing, he wouldn't even listen to what his brother had to say. Maybe Dante had it all wrong.
What if Sesto had done him a favor?
Swallowing hard, I looked to the floor. “Maybe he's not as bad as you think. Maybe you have him all wrong.”
I heard the can clink into the porcelain glove, catching it with a loud ping. “Don't you dare.” Taking long quick steps, Dante was standing in front of me, toe to toe. “Don't you dare try and tell me what to think of my brother.”
Slumping my shoulders, I fiddled with my fingers. I honestly didn't want to piss him off, but Sesto was still his family. In my mind, that should mean more than anything that ever happened between them in the past.
People make mistakes, maybe Sesto messed up. That didn't mean it should be held against him forever. Holding a grudge only deepens the stab wound.
“It's just that he's your brother, Dante. Your mom is gone, your dad is gone, he's all you have left for family. Is whatever he did really worth all the anger you have towards him?”
Stroking his jaw, Dante's teeth clicked against each other like harsh sandpaper on stone. “You still have no fucking clue how shit works around here, do you? In this business there's rules, there's a code we live by, and that asshole—” Throwing out his arm, he pointed towards the door, aiming at the invisible shadow of his past. “He broke them all, that means he broke any bond we ever had.”
“So? He's also your fucking brother, maybe he has a good reason for doing it.” Holding up my hand, I spoke before he could chirp another fucking word about rules. “Look, I don't want to get in the middle of this with you guys, but I do know one thing.” Standing up, I ran my hands up his abs, curling my fingertips over his shoulders. “You still have family, that's what should be important. At this point, the entire business doesn't matter anymore, does it?”
Chuckling with a dark tone, his laugh rolled across my face. “There are some things in this world you can forgive, and there are others you never can.” Pulling my hands off his body, he let them fall by my sides. “I can't forgive Sesto.”
“I forgave my father, I forgave you. Sometimes people don't have the choices you think they do. How can you even stand there and say that shit without listening to what he has to say?” I wasn't backing down. Sesto didn't give me any real details, but from the look in his eyes, I knew.
He wasn't guilty of what Dante accused him of.
Dante stared at me, his eyes flicking around inside the sockets. “You just don't get it, Ivy.”
“No, I get it.” Slapping my palm on my thigh, I laughed out loud. “You think that whatever he did is worse then my father selling me as a sex slave, that you stealing me doesn't compare to him—”
“This is different.”
“Is it? Are you that much different than Sesto? Tell me, go on, tell me how you're different?” Dante's eyes blew open, his mouth snapping shut with a soft pop. “You can't say shit because you're not different. You put yourself on a fucking pedestal because you never ratted to the cops. But you want to throw around the word betray—like you betrayed your father? Like you disregarded the rules and kept me for yourself?”
“Stop,” he barked, his voice cracked like a whip across my face. “I don't regret what I did for you, I never will. But I'm not you, Ivy, I don't have the room in my fucking soul to forgive him. Just because you can give away forgiveness like fucking candy, doesn't mean I can.”
Pursing my lips, my head cocked up. “Fuck you.” Stepping towards him, I held up a single finger. “Don't you dare make it out like my forgiveness was an easy decision! Maybe you're just too cold-hearted to let go of the past. But I know who I am, I know what I stand for!”
Dante's eyes softened, his face falling and losing all its hard edges. “Ivy, I didn't mean it like that. But you have to understand where I come from. Right now. . .” Stroking his jaw, he tapped his thumb against his chin. “Right now I just can't forgive Sesto.” Turning to the door, Dante started down the stairs.
Where the hell does he think he's going?
We weren't done with this, I wasn't going to let him just run away from me. Running behind him, I tried to grab his arms, but he kept shrugging me off.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to clear my head, there's been too much shit for me to deal with today. I don't want to get pissed at you, Ivy and I don't want to take it out on you. I'll be back.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do? You keep leaving me here! I feel like I'm a fucking prisoner again!” Digging my nails into his flesh, I held on tight.
His lips drew in, brows dipping into his nose. “Let me go.”
“No!” Sticking my grip in tighter, I blocked him from going out the door. “I'm fucking tired of this! I'm tired of running, I'm tired of waiting, I'm tired of being stuck on the sidelines!” My eyes looked deep into his, flashing between anger and sadness. “Stop acting like I'm a delicate angel that needs protection. I can handle myself, you should know that by now.”
Cupping my chin, he smiled. “Trust me, I know that.” Kissing my forehead, Dante leaned into my ear. “That's what I'm trying to save, I want to preserve who you are.” Brushing me out of the way, he walked off down the dark driveway, disappearing into the blackness.
The trees swayed soundless words around me, the wind washed across my face, turning my skin cold. He was running away from me, running away from us.
What the hell did he mean?
He didn't know the girl I was before, he didn't know the woman he lifted off that dirt floor and smuggled away to safety.
All he knew was what he found, what I had transformed into.
The Ivy he knew was strong because she had to be.
The Ivy he knew was fierce because that's what this life needed.
But he was missing the entire person I had been.
What was he saving me from when I had already lost it all?
Eleven
Ivy
I tried to sleep, but I couldn't.
The hours rolled by and Dante still hadn't returned. He needed time, he needed space to sort through the shit he was feeling. I had to try and understand that.
He thinks he's alone.
There was no way he would ever admit to it, but I knew he felt empty on the inside as pieces of his life were swept away in a tidal wave.
I knew because I had been there.
His mother was gone, his brother was already dead to him, and he had just lost his father. It didn't matter that he tried to play it up as part of the game, it didn't matter that he wanted to deflect all his emotions in every damn direction but straight ahead.
Dante was in pain.
I could see it clear as day. He wanted to hide it in the same place he shoved everything else, but that wouldn't work forever.
Dante couldn't deny that his father's death hurt him. I knew it pissed him off, I knew his death wasn't natural and that made it easy for Dante to get tunnel vision.
And my role in this didn't help his cause, it only fed it.
But at some point he was going to have to face it, he was going to have to let go of all this shit and just feel the hurt.
Fuck, I feel like an asshole.
I shouldn't have compared him to Sesto or thrown it in his face that I could forgive, but he lacked that ability. We were two different people, who came from two different worlds. We didn't respond to things the same way.
Who was I to judge his relationship with his brother when I was the reason we were here to begin with?
He tried to blame himself for what happened to his father, but that was just scapego
ating himself.
I was the real reason.
Guilt was seeping through my muscles, making my heart hurt. My mind was running a million miles a minute.
I needed to tell him I was sorry.
We didn't come here to mend relationships, we came here to end our suffering. Rolling to my side, I heard the clank of a key and the door pop open softly.
Staying on my side, I decided I was going to let him come up on his own. I wasn't going to rush downstairs and smother him with apologies. Dante might still need to sit by himself to process all this shit and I had to just let him.
He'll come up when he's ready.
The sound of glass on the counter ricocheted off the walls and climbed the stairs, followed by the wet pour of liquid. His mouth hissed loudly as he took a sip of whatever he had used to fill the cup.
Scotch.
My fingers tapped anxiously under the blanket, waiting for him to stroll through the door. I was worried that he'd still be upset, that he was slowly realizing that all of this was due to me. I was the source of his problems, I was the reason his father had lost his life.
There was so much I wanted to say to him, more than he could possibly imagine or ever expect. But I had to temper what words spilled out of my mouth. Too much at once could turn my apology into another fight.
I didn't want to fight with him, I just wanted Dante to let me love him.
Deep down I ached for all of this to just be over. It was time to start our new life together. I wanted to go out on a date, go out to the movies, or just sit by the beach. I wanted to do things that any other person on this earth could just go and do.
I want normal.
His feet thudded up the stairs, step after step my heart leaped inside my chest. I was hoping he felt better, that he had a clear view of what he wanted and knew with everything in his heart that he still wanted me.
That he still wanted us.
I was hurting because a small part of me was afraid that he might think all of this was too much to deal with, and that it'd be easier if he just got up and walked away.