The date for the wedding was set three months away in spring, although she’d be in her eighth month of pregnancy by then. Initially, Dante hadn’t wanted to wait that long, but she had reminded him that their wedding wasn’t just their union, it was a statement in the underworld, and it needed to be a strong one. Dante Maroni marrying a housekeeper’s daughter for love – the same girl who had been raped and tortured at fifteen – instead of a virginal beauty of a fellow family for power and connection was a big deal. People had to be invited, charades had to be put up, games of power had to be played.
Dante had agreed, and the next morning, she had connected with Morana and a wedding planner with her mother, getting the ball rolling. Her mother, who now lived in Dante’s old house and had taken to tailoring baby clothes, had been overjoyed.
Amara swiped red lipstick over her mouth.
“You look like a goddess, Mrs. Maroni-to-be,” her husband-to-be said from behind her, sending a thrill down her spine.
She gave him a once over, admiring him in his debonair black tux as he covered his suspenders with his jackets, the attire making him appear larger. She matched him, with a glittery sleeveless black Grecian dress, with straps that widened to cover her breasts and bunching under, before falling straight to her feet in layers, effectively hiding her growing belly, two slits on both sides till her thighs giving little peeks of her legs and tall heels as she moved. Hair loose and naturally wavy, she wore a plain gold choker on her neck, and gold bracelets on her wrists, the jewelry both hiding her scars and complimenting her warm-toned skin.
She did look good.
“It’s Dr. Maroni-to-be,” she corrected him, her low voice sounding husky even to her own ears.
“Mmm-hmm,” he locked their gazes in the mirror, his hand holding hers as he slid something on her finger.
Damn, that was smooth.
Amara lifted her left hand, seeing the beautiful ring glint in the light. It was a gorgeous oval emerald, surrounded by a crown of diamonds, set in a beautiful platinum band.
Dante pressed a kiss to her lobe, showering her with affection. “There’s an engraving on the inside that says ‘my queen’, so you always remember, no matter where you are or where I am, you’re the beat to my heart.”
Amara felt her eyes water and blinked rapidly since her mascara was not waterproof. “And your ring?”
He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, his eyes locked with hers, showing her a plain platinum band. “Matches. But I already know I’m your king.”
“And a very modest one too.”
He flashed a grin. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, taking the arm he offered her, grateful for it since wearing heels while pregnant was a different experience altogether.
It was a huge party in the mansion to celebrate Dante’s official takeover of the Tenebrae Outfit. They hadn’t wanted to do an engagement party since this was her official introduction into their world, and anyone who saw her on his arms with that giant ring would draw their meanings.
Over the last few days, Dante and his men had spent their time keeping and interrogating the man they’d caught at the creepy house and the guy the Shadowman had left pinned to the tree. One of them had bitten on a cyanide pill in his mouth and died. They stopped the other and took the capsule in his teeth. After weeks of refusing to crack, he finally confessed to his crimes.
Anyone working for the Syndicate knew they could never speak about it or hell would rain on them, their loved ones, anyone they remotely cared about. That was the reason most workers simply chose to end their lives before talking.
The guy had told them how the house had been a holding point for the kids between transport – a place where they stayed for a few days before handing the kids to the higher-ups in the organization. These were the low-level operators with one contact at mid-level who guided them on where to pick up the kids and where to drop them. That mid-level contact wasn’t a name, just a phone number, and Morana had tracked it down to ping within the city limits.
Things were confusing and messy and made no sense – her abduction, MrX, Shadowman, the kids, Dante’s mother. There were too many questions and no answers.
Walking down the stairs, she and Dante entered the huge hall that was usually used for hosting parties, her grip tightening on Dante’s bicep as all eyes swiveled to them in the room, some friendly, some hostile, most guarded. There was a part of her that still found it surreal, that she would attend a party in the same halls where she’d once served. But that was the past. Straightening her spine, Amara stood tall beside her husband-to-be, proud of the woman she had become and the man he had grown into, and stepped in.
“Dante,” Leo Mancini headed towards them, his eyes slightly shifty. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”
Amara saw Dante open his mouth before someone else from the Outfit demanded his attention, and Leo walked away to another side of the room.
Dante made conversation for a while then walked to the side, towards a man Amara recognized as the right-hand man of Maroni, and started to chat, his manner calm, cool, composed. Dante Maroni, the charmer, was taking the floor, and she doubted anyone could resist him when he got like that. She stayed by his side as he’d asked her to, looking around the room, her eyes coming to a halt on her half-sister Nerea.
Amara watched the older woman, dressed in black pants and sweater, and for the first time, she wondered about her. Nerea had come into the fold immediately after her abduction and Amara had been too distracted with her healing to pay her any mind. She had accepted the friendly hand the other woman had extended to her, and watching her now, she wondered if it had been a friendly hand at all. Over the years though, Nerea had done nothing but been good to Amara, checking in on her, giving her advice if she needed it, or even arranging her fake passport.
She wondered about her father. After he left her and her mother, they had never tried to contact him again, and Amara wondered if she should now. She saw Nerea catch her eye and give her a warm, genuine smile, and felt slightly guilty for feeling suspicious of her.
Giving her a little nod, they continued to circle the room, before the music came on and Dante turned to her.
“May I have this dance, my queen?”
Amara grinned up at him, taking his hand as he led her to the center of the floor, tugging her close. Once upon a time, his closeness to her had been reckless of him. Now, it was flaunting. He was flaunting her, claiming her, out in the open, and it felt glorious.
Pressing her face against his shoulder, he led her through the song, and if she closed her eyes, it transported her back to a decade ago in his studio, just the two of them, young, wild, unsure.
They had come so far.
One of his men cut through the moment, calling Dante’s attention and Amara turned to let him go when the scent of raw tobacco hit her nose.
‘What do you know about the Syndicate?’
Taking in a deep breath just made it worse. Amara closed her eyes, trying to push out the memories assaulting her from her mind, red stars behind her eyes as her lungs began to ice. Remembering the last time she’d had a panic attack, tied to a chair and losing her baby, Amara tried to get a hold of herself, wondering if this would ever end. She couldn’t get anxious now, not when she was already high-risk. It was fine. She was safe.
Her fingers must have trembled because Dante paused in his conversation, turning to look at her, his dark eyes taking her measure within seconds.
“You need air?” he asked in a low tone, low enough that nobody else could hear. She gave him a nod, grateful that he knew her the way he did.
Alerting Vin, he put pressure on the small of her back, urging her to take a walk outside while he circled the party. Amara looked to see her friend, and now her head of security, waiting for her by the side door. He held the door open for her and Amara gave him a smile, walking out on her heels on short, sure steps.
The door closed behind her. “You okay?” he asked, leading her down a cemented path gilded with vines on the sides, ending a few feet away in a short gazebo.
Amara gulped in the fresh air on the hill, the scents of night blooms permeating the air, and felt her racing heart begin to calm. She took a seat on the marble bench and looked up at the stars, feeling Vin standing guard by the entrance.
The sound of footsteps had her leaning to the side to see Leo Mancini striding down the gazebo towards her, his eyes shifty, looking around to see if anyone was watching him. There were hardly any guards patrolling this side of the compound. Amara straightened as Vin blocked him.
“Move aside, boy,” Leo spit out. “I have to talk to her.”
Vin turned to look at her, asking silently if she wanted the man to be sent away. Amara didn’t want to be alone with him, but she was curious as to why he sought her out. She gave Vin a slight nod, and he let the older man pass, putting his hand on the gun on his hip in case Leo did something he didn’t like. Amara doubted he would, so close to Dante.
“Amara,” Leo took a seat on the marble bench opposite hers, the relation to the Maroni gene evident in his jawline and distinguished looks. He looked around, hunching down a bit, and spoke. “Someone is going to kill me tonight.”
Amara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How do you know that?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Ten years ago, you eavesdropped on a conversation you shouldn’t have,” he began, and Amara felt her heart begin to pound, her palms get clammy. She gave a look to Vin, who looked back at her, his body alert.
“Yes,” Amara swallowed, remembering the exact conversation. “I was abducted because of that, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” the man nodded. “But Lorenzo or I didn’t give the order. We’d been working as affiliate partners with the Syndicate back then. Transporting…packages.”
Amara felt bile rise in her throat. “But you worked as more before, didn’t you? When the Alliance ended?”
Leo hesitated. “Lorenzo tried the shipment of one batch, but it ended in a fiasco with the Reaper and Gabriel’s kids getting mixed up. The Syndicate told Lorenzo to just do damage control and stick to transport. Listen to me. I don’t have time and I can’t talk to Dante with the party going on. You’re my only hope.”
Amara didn’t understand him. “Hope for what?”
“Redemption.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’ve done terrible things. Terrible. With my hands but also with my silence. You coming to the compound again with Dante has made some people high up to take notice. I will be killed tonight and before I go, I want to confess. And Dante needs to know.”
“Tell me.”
Leo wiped his hand over his face, looking much older than his years. “The Syndicate is lethal about its privacy. Anyone who worked with them knew that speaking about it meant certain death. We had a contact, a handler, at the Syndicate during the Alliance when the first shipment was being planned.” Amara felt ants crawling up her skin at the casual way he referred to innocent children as ‘shipment’. She stayed silent, letting him continue. “We had a meeting with him to discuss further action. It was later that I discovered that Talia, Dante’s mother, had overheard the meeting.”
Pieces fell into place. “So you killed her.”
He shook his head. “No. Lorenzo grew very fond of her actually. They’d had a rough start but over the years things became good for him. We decided to keep it quiet and protect her. She became antsy after that but we were containing the situation. Except we didn’t realize another thing about The Syndicate – they always plant their people where they’re dealing. One of our soldiers was their spy, and one day, he went into her studio and made her slit her wrists while holding the gun to her son’s head.”
“Oh god,” Amara clapped a hand over her mouth, the shock of the words hitting her. She felt her heart bleeding for the woman, for little Damien, for Dante.
The wind swept over her exposed arms, chilling her to the bone, her eyes taking in the sincerity on the older man’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said, his voice deep, and hesitated. “It was to teach Lorenzo a lesson, to keep him in line. There were bigger fish in the sea than he was.”
“What happened to the spy?” Amara asked, her hand fisting the fabric of her dress.
“After the assassination and Lorenzo’s cooperation, the spy got promoted in the Syndicate and became our handler. Any work, any news, any report, he was our contact.”
The hesitation in Leo’s demeanor had a rock lodging itself on Amara’s chest.
This was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.
“Say it,” she whispered, hoping it wasn’t what her mind was telling her. She felt Vin’s hand come on her shoulder in support, and took a deep breath, steadying herself.
“When we caught you eavesdropping, we had to report it to him,” Leo said, his eyes regretful. “He-”
A shot rang out, a bullet hitting him right between the eyebrows, and Amara screamed, her throat straining. Vin ducked, pushing her down to the floor, and Amara kept her eyes on the dead body of the man who had been partly responsible for her abduction.
A wave of dizziness swept through her, and she realized she’d been holding her breath for too long. Gripping the marble at her side, Amara felt her eyes begin to burn, her jaw shaking with the effort of keeping in the scream in her throat, memories, horrific memories, assaulting her.
What had he been about to say?
Guards came running to the gazebo, along with some guests from the party. Amara sat up on the floor, the chill from the marble seeping into her bones.
“Amara!” Dante’s voice thundered through the ground as he ran towards her, his eyes panicked.
He dropped on his haunches as soon as he reached her, his hands going to her face, his eyes running over her body. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Fuck, Amara talk to me!”
Amara shuddered, hanging onto his hands. “I’m okay. We’re okay,” she reassured him and watched his eyes harden as he turned to Vin. “I want to know where the bullet came from and which motherfucker fired it.”
Vin gave him a quick nod before running towards the mansion, and Amara turned to Dante, watching the deep pools of darkness in his eyes, wondering how she was going to tell him what she’d learned.
“So, wait, let me get this straight,” Morana said over the video filling her phone screen. “This MrX dude who ordered your abduction was an Outfit soldier before he became a Syndicate spy? He got promoted for killing Dante’s mom? Wow, that’s a different level of fucked up. How did Dante take it?”
Amara sighed, stroking Lulu’s fur in her lap. “How do you think?”
“Not well, I’m assuming?” Morana winced, the penthouse lit up behind her.
“He’s been having meetings in his office for the last few hours,” Amara told her. “I think my being so close to the bullet shook him.”
“It’d shake anyone, Amara. Especially after finding out what he did about his mom,” her expressive eyes softened in sympathy for him. She got distracted for a second on screen, looking to the side. “One second, Amara,” Morana said before moving to the side. “No, no, that’s not how you do it, Xander. Put the basic code in and open the file. Yeah, that’s it. Well done, you! High five!”
Amara felt her eyebrows go up. Xander was what, eight? And he was talking code with Morana? What the hell?
Morana came back on screen, a huge smile on her face. “Sorry, Xander needed some help.”
“How’s he doing?” Amara asked, curious about the boy.
Morana shrugged. “Not the best, if I’m being honest. He’s not talkative at all but boy, he’s freaky intelligent. Like even I wasn’t doing the shit he’s doing at his age. He likes to sit with me when I’m working, seeing all the codes and stuff. But doesn’t talk, except to maybe ask a few questions. Just my luck huh? Stuck with two guys who barely grunt,” she ended on a little laugh, shaking her head.
“You should have him tested for his IQ,” Amara pointed out.
Morana nodded. “Yeah, we will. I mean we’re all just kind of adapting to being in the same space, you know? Tristan took to it like a duck to water, though. He loves him. He doesn’t say it, but I can tell. I found them in the kitchen one night cooking pizza because Xander had a nightmare.”
“That’s big for Tristan,” Amara admitted.
“I know right?” Morana nodded. “I’m still searching facial recognition for anything on him, but so far nada.”
“Has he said anything about the Shadowman?” Amara asked, curious, settling back on the couch in the living room, sunlight filling up the space.
“Tristan said he mentioned him. Just that he always left Xander notes to communicate and stayed in the shadows. Last time he saw the guy was in the fog. I think you might be right, about him being the Airport Guy. He’s been freaky about me not seeing him. By the way, have you tried this new peach milk moisturizer? I hear it’s divine.”
The sound of footsteps brought Amara’s attention. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later,” she told Morana and they hung up.
Nerea walked into the room, her eyes coming to Amara.
“Hey,” Amara said, concerned about the way the older woman stayed silent. Over the last few days, she’d not had the time to talk to the woman.
Nerea stopped at the edge of the room. “You’re pregnant?”
Amara furrowed her brow. “Yes, why?”
Nerea shook her head. “No reason. I’ll catch you later.”
She walked right out of the room, the little interaction weirding Amara out.
Dante wore glasses, looking at his laptop screen as she and her mother sat on the office couch, discussing the wedding plans. Usually, they sat somewhere else and didn’t interrupt her husband-to-be, but that day his input was required.
“So, gold or silver?”
“Gold.”
“Different tables or buffet?”
“Different tables.”
“Are we calling Al and his family?”
“Yeah.”
That’s pretty much how it had gone since the last hour. She and her mother would ask final questions, and he would give monosyllabic replies, all the while working on his laptop. It was a gorgeous day too, with the bright sun filtering in through the big windows of his office, Lulu napping on a particularly warm spot in the ray of sun. She’d made Dante’s study her day place. If he was there, she’d be there. If he wasn’t there, then she’d find Amara. If neither of them were there, then she’d snuggle somewhere in a huge mansion and sleep.
Amara looked at him in his zone, with the scruff that had become an almost beard, the glasses on his handsome face, and felt her belly flutter the same way it used to when she’d been a teen, watching the unreachable boy. She rested her face on her hand stared at him.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked her, not looking up from the screen.
Her mother looked up at them. “She has always stared at you, Dante,” her ma said with amusement. “You shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”
Dante grinned but kept working. The vibration from his phone had his face turning to the side.
“Morana,” he greeted. “I’m putting you on speaker. Hold on.”
He placed the phone on the table and went back to looking at his screen.
“Okay, so you know how I’ve been keeping my eye on Nerea for months? She disappeared so I tracked her and guess who she led us to?”
“Who?” Dante asked absently, still looking at his screen.
“MrX,” Morana’s excited voice came from the speaker as she talked fast. “So, I went down under, digitally speaking, looking for more info on the guy she met and I just hit jackpot!”
Dante stilled, his focus on the call now. “You have a name?”
“Oh no,” Morana spoke, enthused. “I have a first name and a photo. How amazing is that? I’m running facial recognition as we speak. Check your email. I’ve sent it to you. It’s encrypted for protection so I’ve sent the code you’ll need to decrypt it as well. Okay, that was it. I have to go now.”
“Tell Tristan to give you a hug from my side,” Dante smiled.
“Fat chance of that,” Morana chuckled. “I’ll just take it myself. Talk to you later.”
The call cut off and Amara felt amazement wash over her again at the crazy stuff her friend did, which she’d never been able to understand. She stood up, her back slightly aching as her bump grew, and walked to his side, curious to see the photo.
Dante opened the email, put in the code, and a flurry of text came on the screen for a split second before the folder opened.
“Xavier,” Dante mused. “MrX. Seriously?”
Shaking his head, he clicked on the photo, enlarging it. It was the headshot of an average looking, clean-shaven, balding man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
Amara frowned, the photo nagging something in her brain. “I’ve seen him before.”
Dante turned to her, his eyes sharp. “Where?”
She shook her head, trying to remember, his face familiar but stranger. And suddenly, it hit her.
“They showed me his photo,” she rasped out. “During my interrogation, they showed me his photo and asked me if I recognized him. That’s where I’ve seen him!”
Dante clenched his jaw, his hand settling on her hip. “We already know he’s the one who gave the order. And that he was possibly there.”
She felt her mother come to her side, rubbing her back in comfort before suddenly her hand stopped. Amara looked down to see her mother staring at the screen, a look of shock on her face.
“Ma?” she asked, concern washing over her. “You okay? You know him?”
The older woman looked like she was reeling, looking up at Amara with the same green eyes.
“That-that’s your father, Mumu.”
Amara felt her heart stop.
No.
No way.
What the hell was she talking about?
“No,” Amara whispered.
She felt Dante’s grip tighten on her hip, his eyes on her mother.
“Are you sure that’s the same man? Amara’s father?”
Her ma nodded, looking closely at the screen. “He’s aged but it’s definitely him. He ordered your abduction? That’s not possible. No. He’s your father!”
Her father? She’d never had a father. He had left so early in her life she didn’t even remember him anymore. It hadn’t traumatized her or anything. Her mother had been more than enough for Amara. But what the hell?
“I don’t understand,” Amara croaked, confused, scared, not good.
“I kicked him out soon after you were born, Mumu,” her mother told her. “He had been… toxic and I didn’t want that in your life. So I asked him to leave and he left. I was prepared to tell you about him but you never asked in any detail.”
She hadn’t seen that one coming.
She had absolutely not seen that one coming.
It felt surreal. She couldn’t believe this. She wouldn’t believe this. Because believing this meant believing that her father had been the one to sanction her trauma, her torture, her rape. Believing this meant believing he’d been the one to hold Dante’s brother hostage while making his mother bleed. Believing this meant believing he was a monster and not just a stranger who never wanted to be a part of her life.
It was the silence in the room that slowly made it real to Amara. She felt the tar in her lungs again, dripping, pulling her under, weighing her down as she started to breathe faster. Her mind started to process but failed. Her heart started to hammer and her stomach got tight.
She felt something heavy on her chest as her vision blurred, swaying slightly on her feet. Something pulled at her arms, making her fall and sit on something warm. The scent of masculine, musky cologne cut through the fog, seeping into her lungs, dispersing the tar with the feeling of safety it brought.
Amara focused her gaze to find herself sitting on Dante’s lap, his strong, muscular arms around her, squeezing her tight.
Lulu jumped on the table, coming towards her, years of being with Amara having made her sensitive to an anxiety attack.
Amara took a deep breath and pulled the pet into her arms, hugging her to her bosom, stroking her as the cat started vibrating like a little motor against her, calming down her racing heart.
“So, MrX is my father,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word as she felt her man still, before he relaxed again, giving her a soft squeeze before staring at her mother.
“What did he do when you were with him?”
The words were quiet, permeating the air in the room.
Her ma inhaled, her slightly wrinkled hands shaking as she absorbed the news. Amara couldn’t even imagine how she must have been feeling. “Xavier was a soldier in the Outift at the time. It was right around when I joined the staff as a cook. He was very brazen, and we spent a night together, and it got very toxic, very fast. He’d had a horrible upbringing and the more I saw him, the more I realized just how… wrong he was. Your birth gave me the push to throw him out of our lives. I never wanted his shadow to touch you.”
Amara felt her throat get tight at the love her mother had for her, relating to it now in a way she never had before. Hadn’t she done the same when she’d found out she was pregnant? Hadn’t she run away to protect her child from this world?
Amara took a hold of her mother’s hand, her eyes shimmering. “I love you, Ma.”
Her mother’s gaze softened. “I love you, Mumu. Are you okay, baby?” she asked her.
Amara shrugged. She didn’t know.
Dante kept his arms around her, his voice kind as he spoke. “Will you give us the room, Zia? And please get yourself some tea and come back.”
Her mother nodded. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Amara watched her walk out and close the door behind her, and she let the cat down on the floor, turning in Dante’s lap to look at him.
“Now I know how Morana feels,” Amara told him softly, her heart hurting. “The sins of our fathers do stay with us. I’m sorry for what he did to your mom, Dante.”
Dante’s jaw clenched under his scruff, his dark eyes closing as he put a hand behind her head and pulled her forehead to hers, just breathing her in, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm.
“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” he told her, his voice gruff.
Amara swallowed. “He was there. He came to see me there and let it happen. What kind of a monster does that?”
His hand on the back of her head tightened. “Promise me something, Amara.”
Amara opened her eyes to see the dark chocolate pools of his, waiting for him to continue.
“If I ever lose my way, lose my soul to this place-” he told her, his eyes fierce “-and become toxic to you or our children, promise me that you’ll end me.”
“Dante-”
“Promise me.”
Her mouth trembled. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers deeper, and they stayed silent, absorbing the dark drop of ink that swirled in their lives.
