His face hardened.
I regretted it instantly.
But I continued.
“If she was my sister—”
“We do not know that.”
“If she was, she died trying to tell you something. I’m not spending the next twenty-seven years wondering what.”
That landed.
He looked away first.
At midnight the following night, Pier Nineteen was swallowed in fog.
Shipping containers towered like black buildings on either side of the dock.
Luca brought twelve men.
I saw only four.
That told me the others were placed somewhere useful.
I wore a wire beneath my coat.
Leo remained at the estate with Luca’s aunt.
Leaving him had been worse than expected.
He had screamed when I walked out.
So had something inside me.
At the center of the pier stood Greg.
Hands tied.
Face bruised.
Alive.
Behind him were six armed men.
And one woman.
She was perhaps sixty.
Elegant.
Silver hair cut at the jaw.
Black coat.
Pearl earrings.
She looked at me with an expression that made my knees weaken.
Not because I recognized her.
Because she recognized me.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Her face folded.
“My beautiful girl.”
Luca beside me went rigid.
“Who are you?”
The woman ignored him.
She looked only at me.
“Avery.”
My throat closed.
“How do you know my name?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because I gave it to you.”
Luca’s hand moved toward his weapon.
“No.”
The woman smiled sadly.
“Hello, little brother.”
Luca stopped breathing.
I stared at her.
“No.”
She removed one glove.
On her wrist was a scar.
A crescent.
The same crescent visible on Claire Bennett’s wrist in my childhood photograph.
Luca whispered one word.
“Clara.”
My mother.
Alive.
Standing forty feet away.
For twenty-seven years I had imagined death because death hurt less than abandonment.
She took one step toward me.
I took one back.
“Avery—”
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“You were alive when my parents died.”
“Yes.”
“When I graduated.”
Her face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“When I was sick at nineteen and thought I had nobody.”
“Avery—”
“Don’t say my name like you earned it.”
Greg closed his eyes.
Clara looked toward him.
“He was supposed to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Greg spoke through bloodied lips.
“Everything.”
“Then start.”
The armed men behind them shifted.
Clara lifted one hand.
They stilled.
And suddenly I understood.
They weren’t holding her.
They worked for her.
Luca understood too.
His voice became ice.
“You arranged this.”
Clara looked at him.
“I needed Avery somewhere your enemies could not reach her.”
“You had her shot at?”
“No.”
“Someone fired on her apartment.”
“That was not me.”
“Then who?”
A slow smile appeared on Clara’s face.
“That is why I brought you here.”
She turned toward the containers.
“Come out.”
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Enzo turned.
His face changed.
The younger bodyguard from Aurelia stepped from the fog.
Matteo.
Gun in hand.
Pointed at Luca.
I stopped breathing.
Luca didn’t move.
“Matteo.”
“I’m sorry, boss.”
Enzo reached for his weapon.
Another red laser appeared on his chest.
Then another.
Clara said quietly, “Don’t.”
Luca stared at Matteo.
“How long?”
“Since Elena.”
The world narrowed.
“You killed her.”
Matteo shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Matteo looked at Clara.
She answered.
“Your father.”
Luca’s expression twisted.
“My father is dead.”
“No.”
Even the fog seemed to freeze.
