As sleep began to claim me, one last thought surfaced: if Anthony Cassaro had been the monster Jackson described, what did that make me? His daughter, carrying his blood, his DNA. Was there darkness in me too, waiting to emerge? Had it already emerged by killing Alfeo?
Was I a bad person?
Or was I more like my mother—gentle, forgiving, seeing the best in people even when they didn't deserve it?
I didn't know. But as consciousness slipped away, I realized I was no longer certain of anything I'd believed about my family—or myself.
23
JACKSON
Iwoke to the sound of movement—sharp, wrong, too close. My hand went straight for the Glock under the pillow, muscle memory kicking in before thought. The weight of the weapon was familiar in my palm, my finger hovering just outside the trigger guard as I assessed the threat.
Elena was still curled against me, warm and soft, her breath steady against my chest. I didn't move her. I just shifted enough to aim, heart already pounding with the rush of adrenaline that never quite felt like fear anymore—just heightened awareness, the world suddenly in sharper focus.
Then I saw the red hair and the smug grin. Ivy. Standing there like she owned the damn place, holding a tray of coffees and a bag of pastries like this was some kind of casual Sunday morning get-together.
I didn't lower the gun right away. Old habits die hard when they've been carved into you by blood and fire. But I didn't raise it higher either. Just stared at her while she grinned wider, completely unfazed by having a weapon drawn at her arrival. Had she already assumed I wouldn't aim it at her? That was a little too trusting.
"Rise and shine, lovebirds," she announced, her voice deliberately loud. "I brought sustenance for the morning after."
She plopped onto the bed like she belonged there, right next to Elena, who groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow. The mattress dipped, and Elena's body shifted against mine. I was suddenly hyperaware of every inch where our skin touched beneath the sheets.
"I snagged those almond croissants from that bakery nearby," Ivy said, rustling through the paper bag. "Figured we could sneak some to Anna Hospital food is basically a war crime. Besides, she'll be awake soon, and we need to go see her."
I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was naked under the sheet. Thank God for the sheet. I sat up slowly, keeping it strategically positioned over my lap, and took the coffee Ivy shoved at me without asking. Our fingers brushed, and she winked at me, completely shameless.
"Black, two sugars," she said. "Elena mentioned it once."
So Elena had taken note that time in her apartment. Such a small gesture, but it stood out.
The bitter heat of it grounded me as I took a careful sip. Steam rose between us as I popped the cap off my pill bottle and swallowed the painkillers. My leg throbbed like hell where the bullet had grazed me, but our intimacy last night was not one I'd ever regret.
Elena groaned again but finally emerged from beneath the pillow, hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep. She clutched the sheet to her chest with one hand and took her coffee with the other. "You have no shame, barging in here," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "But yes, we'll go see mom again."
The woman fighting cancer while her daughter was tangled up with a man who killed people. The irony wasn't lost on me.
"Me? Shame?" Ivy gasped and feigned hurt before winking. "I've seen you butt-ass naked before, Lena, and let's just saythere's nothing this guy's packing that I haven't seen before," she said as she gave me an obvious once over and shot me a devilish wink.
I wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or not. But I was not about to prove her case.
Twenty minutes later, we piled into the car I'd borrowed from Grayson. I hated being in the backseat, hated being classified as "impaired" just because I was medicated and limping. They hadn't cared about that last night when I'd driven everywhere. Then again, we'd all been too stressed and running on fumes.
Today, the pair of them had words to say about it. But I didn't argue. Not today. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially when Elena had insisted on helping me into my clothes, her fingers lingering longer than necessary as she buttoned my shirt.
Ivy adjusted the rearview mirror, catching my eyes in the reflection. Her smirk was knowing, predatory. "So, Elena..." she drawled, glancing sideways at her friend in the passenger seat. "Is he as good with his other weapon as he is with a gun?"
Elena groaned, color flooding her cheeks. "Jesus Christ, Ivy."
I smirked, leaning back against the headrest. Some things were better left implied.
Ivy cackled, slapping the steering wheel. "That good, huh? Damn, girl. Get it."
"Can we please talk about literally anything else?" Elena pleaded, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that she couldn't quite suppress.
"Oh, sure. Jackson, how was it railing my best friend?" Ivy asked, and Elena groaned as I let out a chuckle.
They really were a rightful pair of friends.
