Page 25 of Tainted Blood
Hurt.
Anger.
These feelings terrify me. I’ve fought them all my life. Reviled them. Shoved them in a lost and found box for my father to claim, not me. Despised him because of it. Despised my husband for embracing them, too.
I see a fancy dining table.
I hear my own words echoing in my head.
“I want to help the world, not make it spin for me…”
My naivety makes me want to puke. Right now, that same woman wants nothing more than to make the whole world burn for her.
Lola slips her hand into mine, as if she can sense the shock and chaos going on beneath my frozen expression.
My tainted blood has been there all along, flowing through my veins. Lying dormant. Waiting for a dark awakening to finally set it free...
Breathe, Thalia. Breathe.
I need a sliver of Ella’s happiness to bring me back. A chink of my mother’s light… Desperately, I cling to a Pinterest collage of sepia tone memories in my head. I see the cerulean borders of my father’s island. I see Ella waving to me from the shoreline, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat two sizes too big for her. I hear my husband’s laugh… The rarest of rough diamonds, yet somehow the most precious.
“Stay strong. We’ll get through this, Thalia,” I hear her whisper.
I wonder if she knows that her tainted blood is slowly poisoning her too.
They make us stand in the courtyard for an hour, spotlighted by the blazing sunshine—sweating and shivering, and bracing ourselves for the next blow.
Finally, there’s movement in the doorway. An uneasy hush descends over the courtyard as a tall man emerges from the castle. He pauses on the top step, casting a long shadow that divides us like a blade. His expensive black suit flatters a cruel expression. His eyes are the dead calm of a bitter-blue ocean.
I wince as Lola’s grip starts crushing my bones. We’ve been around bad men all our lives, but pure evil has a face, and this man is wearing it.
“Le mie puttane vestite di bianco,” he declares, his thick accent ripe with disdain. “My whores in white… Today is another glorious day to cry and kneel and submit.” He laughs, and then gestures at his men. “Begin.”
I feel a rough shove between my shoulder blades.
“Move, puttana.”
Rosalia grabs my other hand and tugs us toward a stone archway. “Stay close to me. They make us walk all the way to the town square. This is where the auction is.”
Auction.
The word swirls around my head like hot sauce, burning every thought it touches. Rosalia didn’t say much about it last night, other than to expect hell today. We begged and pleaded, but she only gave us crumbs. It’s like she wanted us to have one last night of ignorance.
That night is over, and ignorance is about to be damned to the same place we’re all headed.
“Who are these girls?” I hear Lola whisper.
“They’re like us... Camorra. Bratva. Cartel. Born into leading underworld families—”
“Wait. I swear I know you from somewhere.” I can see the dots connecting in her head, but they’re not moving fast enough. Not here. Not now. Not with the devil breathing down our necks. “I thought you looked familiar last night—”
“My father is Gianni Marchesi. The New Jersey don.” Rosalia’s eyes dart to the side before she adds, “Italian mafia.”
“Silenzio!” the guards snarl, and Rosalia draws us tighter into the group again.
“Whatever happens, don’t react,” she warns. “They want to see your fear. They get fucking loaded off of it. This place is like a bad virus, and everyone is infected.”
“What do you mean…?” I trail off as we enter a narrow cobblestone street. That’s when I see them all waiting for us. Lines and lines—two, sometimes three-locals deep.