Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 62 - 66

Chapter 62: Chapter 66

"You’ve never done anything wrong," I murmur, my voice steady, but there is slight trembling beneath the surface. I pull back slightly, just enough to catch his eyes, before stepping to Luciano. My hand presses lightly against his chest before I shove him back playfully. His lips twitch with a faint grin, but the bruise beneath his eye—dark and raw—remains a somber reminder.

"Neither of you," I continue, my gaze flicking between them. "But we need to face the fact that there are secrets between us. And I’m not the only one that put them there."

Luciano’s expression hardens, his gaze falling to the floor as he adjusts his weight uncomfortably. When he speaks, his voice is suddenly cold, sharp, and distant—the tone of someone retreating into the safety of formality. "We’re just glad you’re safe," he says, the warmth stripped from his words as he pivots seamlessly into the landscape of politics. "There’s a lot of prep work we need to get through. You have your program attendances to prioritize, and there’s another fundraiser for dad’s development project. He plans to announce it once the Governor’s title is officially his, though it’s basically a done deal."

His words are mechanical, a perfect distraction from the weight hanging between us. The room feels colder for it, the unspoken lingering like shadows at the edge of every word.

"I will begin the prep work when you tell me what really happened to your eye," I say, to raise a cheeky counter offer.

Despite the lightness veiled over my tone, Luciano’s face snaps into a fierce look. "You have work to do. I suggest you get it done."

He turns away, cutting past me, drawing an objection that he disregards with a measure of detachment that is frightening. My eyes jump to Silas to include him in my shock so we can share the burden of concern, but I alone bear it as he shakes his head at me meaningfully and warningly. He breaks away, following Luciano.

"Silas?"

"Let it go," he says to end that matter.

And now I follow him until I’m brought to a jarring standstill. I withdraw a couple steps from the door frame as my dad enters. I thought I was the expert at reading his mood that I could decode every twitch and glance aimed at me or another. Now I am unsure and that uncertainty feels like a knife’s edge to my resolve.

"I was just about to find you." Words leaping from my tongue. "I’m sorry about my response and my actions that led to our argument. I was going to apologize—"

"I knew you would," he says with this abrupt arrogance that makes the skin between my brows crinkle. He lights a smile that expels the shadow cast over his face. "I knew you would do the right thing—and never for you. You always do the right thing for others. You inhabit so much of your mother, both in body and spirit."

The mere mention of her strikes a tender chord within me, softening me more than I’d should allow and unraveling a vulnerability I couldn’t hide—especially not from him.

"Your kindness is a rarity, one I fear I may have exploited," he confesses and I can no longer discern if these sentiments stem from his heart or this admission is somehow fashioned as an emotional weapon, not to terrify me but compel me—pulling at those tender chords to goad from me the reaction he needs. A sinister mastery of using compassion as coercion.

"I know I have taken advantage of your good nature," he continues, struggling to meet my gaze. "And this predates the alliance. Your whole life you have devoted to me. Don’t think I forget or I take with impunity all you have done—not just for this family, but for me."

I feel it inside me—tender chords straining beneath an eroded resolve.

He closes the space between us, his scent sheathes my senses, a simple smell that inspired peace within me since I was a child. "My sons are my lifeblood, but you are my heart," he says, taking my face into his hands, drawing in to plant a featherlight kiss on my forehead. "I’m doing important work, as you know, and my purpose is to serve people—and I can only hope to do it as well and as gracefully as you have. Nothing means more to me than my children. My dream is meant to outlive me so my children can inherit a better world than I had."

"I know this," I say quietly. "I always have."

He nods confidently, reassured. "I hope you do. And I hope you can truly forgive my mistakes and let them not... provoke rash actions," he says, his voice laced with a careful balance of caution and tenderness. The warning beneath his words is clear, though softened by a veneer of affection. "You are the best of us, so I expect you to behave better."

Something in his tone—his carefully masked remorse—snags at a bristled part of me, undermining the sentiment he’s trying to convey. And that makes something inside me slip some untold grasp—hope like a desperate hand clinging to a cliff’s edge only for it to be the one to release.

And so I do as I always. I summon a practiced smile, tilting my head just so, and nod obediently. "Of course. I won’t disappoint you."

"You never could." His response comes quickly, as if rehearsed. He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, his arms locking around me in an embrace that feels more confining than comforting. My smile drops in the press of his grip, but I school my features again the moment his hold lifts. By the time he steps back, he’s greeted with the same soft smile.

"Another thing," he says, his tone changing, though his authority remains prevalent. "I have a few prominent figures I need to meet with before the election. Tomorrow night is ideal for everyone, and frankly, it’s easier to host the meeting here than to deal with booking out an entire restaurant or venue. Security protocols and all that." He looks around thoughtfully, as if the thought only occurs to him now. "It’ll be a dinner party, nothing extravagant. And you can make that chicken Marbella you served last year at the charity luncheon—everyone loved it."

I stare at him, a little loss for words and my mind catalogs everything his ’simple’ request entails.

"Don’t worry," he adds with a faint smile, as if he’s doing me a favor. "I’ll delegate the heavier campaign tasks to the boys to take some of the load off your plate. If I’m not—"

My phone rings, cutting him off and granting me a fleeting moment to collect myself. The shrill tone feels almost like salvation.

"I’ll handle everything," I say quickly, my words firm enough to usher him out of the room.

"That’s my girl," he says, his self-satisfied smile lingering as he turns and leaves, oblivious to the glare I stab in his back.

I grab my phone and answer without looking, "Avara."

"You’re home and you never told me," Vance states with a demand in his delivery.

My posture slackens, my weight shifting to one side. "Your father tracked us and now you’re still tracking me? You know, I’m starting to realize that it’s always a good thing to cut off generational cycles, including habits."

"Some are sound when they serve a noble purpose," he retorts.

"Noble?" Old anger grips my voice. "There’s nothing noble about using that privileged information to break into my best friend’s house and drag me out of there like a felon on parole. Does that sound noble to you?"

"How about this? I’ll consider ending things that you deem generational if you let go of your grudges."

My eyes narrow, then widen with intrigue. "Wait, so you vow to never track me again?" A realization that turns my mind to a thought. "Hold on, I left my phone at home. How did you know I made it back?"

"I inquired of the men who escorted you."

"I take it you spoke with your father?" I question to not waste breath on a battle with no victor.

He liberates a long and weighty sigh. "That went as I expected."

"I’m sorry—hey look, I have to go. My dad says he’ll delegate all the prep work, but my brothers will end up coming to me to go over everything anyway."

"If we have another sleepover, I can come over and help you out?"

A smile worms its way on my face. "That won’t happen again."

"Wha—"

I end the call with a small laugh and it dies when I see my lockscreen.

Over a hundred missed messages from multiple private numbers—Botan!