Page 21 of Hidden Empire
“He’ll probably snoop while packing up your stuff anyway,” Matteo adds. “If it was one of us, he’d toss everything he deemed inexcusable, but he won’t do that with you. Yet, anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “Packing up my stuff?”
“Yeah, Apollo and him are meeting Uncle Cesar at your old place to deal with everything and grab your stuff.”
“No,” I instantly shout.
Dante frowns. “No?”
“They can’t go in my room. I don’t, I don’t want them in there.”
Matteo’s thick eyebrows pinch together. “They’re probably already done.”
Oh my god.
My stomach twists into a painful knot. “W-what?”
His confused look becomes wary. “They left a while ago?—”
“No,” I say again, fear crawling up my back.
They saw… they saw my house. My room. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it because it’s already happened. I think—holy shit, my heart is beating fast—I think I’m going to have a panic attack.
“Jade, it’s okay, Bruce and Kim aren’t there, remember?” Matteo says, trying to coax me from the impending panic. He doesn’t understand, though. I’m not worried about Kim or Bruce running into them, I’m worried about what they’ll see because of them. The two of them don’t need to be present for the evidence of their cruelty to be witnessed.
My head shakes from side to side, mouth dried up and cold. “No.”
There’s the distant echo of doors slamming, and I know there’s no time to run and hide from this. They’re home, and if I’m right, they’ll be heading right for us—for me.
A few shaky breaths fall from my lips before they close in on my room. I see my brothers first, both wearing masks of anger while Uncle Cesar follows behind them, his mask even darker than theirs.
In my eldest brother’s clenched fists lies the stuff of nightmares. Reality in its most physical form, the sight of it sending a crack straight through my heart. His hands loosen around the relic, extending it out in presentation before letting go entirely.
Apollo lets the chain and lock fall, the rattling metal clinking painfully loud until it all hits the floor. In a pile at his feet, the piece of evidence gleams under the light of my room’s chandelier. I struggle to breathe, blinking like it might go away if my eyes are closed for long enough.
I hate that chain of metal more than I hate a lot of awful things. I can’t hide my disdain for it. Imagine needing something so huge and horrendous in order to give yourself enough peace of mind to sleep at night. Imagine having to steal that thing to even possess it, and then struggling to drag it all the way home.
I dragged that heavy ass hunk of protection five miles from a junkyard and maneuvered it inch by inch through my bedroom window. I tried five different ways of locking my door with it before I found one that worked well enough.
Matteo gapes. “What the fuck is that?”
No, no, no. One day here and they’re already going to know. I don’t even get a week of pretending like everything is okay.
My breath stalls in my throat, and I give my eldest brother a panicked glance. He isn’t looking at me though, his eyes are firmly locked on our father’s. It looks like they’re speaking without words, silently spilling secrets between each other.
Until it’s not so silent.
“This is our little sister’s bedroom door lock.”
The room takes a collective breath and then chaos ensues.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Dante asks, the words sending a horrible chill all over my body. It rolls up my arms, nipping away at any comfort still remaining.
“Is that why you asked about rules?” Matteo asks me, still staring at the chain.
Dad turns to him. “What fucking rules?”
“Excuse me,” I blurt out, running for my bathroom. I have the door slammed shut and latched behind me before rushing to the toilet. Dry heaving on my knees, I can’t tune it out as Matteo rambles through our conversation from last night.