2. Chapter 2

Dante

"Capo, we have a situation."

I hold back a deep sigh, along with the urge to throw my steak knife at Beto. He's one of my best guards, but right now, I'm not sure that my temper cares. It's the first Sunday dinner in months I've been able to schedule perfectly to get all of my sons here together.

"Unless someone is dead, I don't want to know about it."

"You definitely want to know about it," the responding voice doesn't belong to Beto.

"You were supposed to stay put, pig," my guard seethes, turning to the uninvited guest with a hand firmly planted on the pistol brandishing his hip.

Officer Brian is definitely not someone who I'll allow to ruin my evening. But even I can admit I'm curious. Why the fuck is he in my house?

"Like I want to fucking be here," he grits out sarcastically. "Drove fucking three hours because I knew if I didn't come right away, my head would be on a spike."

All nine of my sons seem to perk up at the mention of heads on spikes, pulling their attention to the cop in the entryway of our dining room.

I don't even get to demand he tell me why he's here before he opens his mouth again. At least he's smart enough to waste less of my time by talking as quickly as possible.

"Any chance you happen to know a Kim Donovan, Dante?"

"You interrupted Sunday dinner to ask him about a woman? Jesus, I'll go sharpen the spike," Matteo jokes. My youngest finds humor in everything.

"I might know the name," I answer vaguely, sizing him up. "Why?"

He blows out a breath. "I was at her home today, sorting out a domestic dispute…"

"And?" I drawl before he can find the words.

"Any chance you knew her intimately ‘bout eighteen, nineteen years ago?"

The already quiet room becomes deathly silent. His question gives me the kind of gut ache no man has given me outside of torture.

"Why?" I repeat.

"There's a girl. Her name is Jade, and she's seventeen." He clears his throat. "And Kim says she's yours."

"What the fuck?" the curse bursts out of one of my sons. I'm not even sure which because I'm struck dumb.

He drags a hand down his face. "Kim wanted to kick her out, but she's got a few weeks left before she's eighteen, and obviously, we couldn't allow her to do that. She was ranting and screaming, and when we finally asked if there were any blood relatives she could task with taking her." Breathing out, he adds, "She named you."

My jaw ticks. "Did she?"

He nods slowly. "Gotta be honest… it was pretty fucking vile to watch. Told me like it was meant to hit Jade where it hurts. Apparently, she told Jade that her daddy didn't want nothing to do with her and left them. She," he pauses, losing the words.

"She what?"

That doesn't sound like the Kim I knew at all.

"Jesus Christ, I don't even want to repeat this shit," he mumbles. "Kim looked her in the eye and told her that she didn't want her, but you'd have wanted her less. That she was only sending her to you now because she was just like you, and she hoped you'd kill her."

I… Why would I?—

"She said Moretti girls are pure, and you'd—" he struggles to speak. "Goddamnit, she said you'd kill her for being a whore."

"Is she a whore?" my oldest, Apollo, drones.

"Apollo," I snap. I want to reprimand him further. And I would, if he'd truly asked that question about his sister. But—do I believe this shit? Do my sons have a sister? Do I have a daughter?

I certainly wouldn't kill her for being a whore if I did. Who the fuck does Kim think I am? A good man, most definitely not. But a kin killer? No way in hell. I'd sooner die than off one of my own.

"From what I've heard, no," Brian answers anyway. "But the taunting and the revelation that she'd been lied to, it sort of made her lose it. Got a few too many swings in on Kim before I could get her off of her. She's in the infirmary now."

My heart stutters a beat. "Jade?"

"No, Kim."

Matteo whistles like he's impressed. "Damn. Go, sis."

"We don't know that she's our fucking sister, idiot," Leon tells him dryly. The gibe isn't an entirely malicious one. My boys bicker, yes, but they'd kill, maim, or die for each other without blinking.

"You can do whatever DNA testing you want, but Dante? She's got your eyes."

This gets all of our attention.

Sharply, I demand, "Where is she?"

He sighs. "She's in my car. And before you lose your shit for having her sit out there, I couldn't very well bring her in here without explaining it first. You hear ‘potential daughter' of yours, see her fists dry with blood, and I get a bullet to the head, no?"

I won't tell him he's wrong.

"She wouldn't let me bandage her up, and she's been stoic the whole ride. She was already a sad little thing. I answered domestic calls about Kim's creep boyfriend all the time. Most recently, because he made a move on Jade, and she stabbed him. Don't think she likes being touched much."

My whiskey glass shatters on the table as I slam it down, standing up. "A man did what to her?"

"Jesus Christ, Dante," he exclaims as he flinches. "Three days ago, Kim tried to have her arrested for attempted murder. I wasn't on the case, but I know it was dismissed and deemed self-defense.

"She stabbed him seventeen times and didn't have more than a few scratches and bruises from what I know. But she's had this blank look in her eyes since, which makes me think… things I don't want to think. I don't know what she told the detectives and the DA, but whatever she did determined that she wasn't legally responsible for her actions."

He thinks Kim let some fucker assault my daughter. Fucking shit, is she my daughter? I need to see her. Now.

"Bring me to her."

Jade

The first time I see a mansion up close, I'm in the back of a police car. I don't know why I think that's fitting. Outside of Kim's perspective, I'm never in trouble. I've never even been called to the principal's office.

I guess since being around cops near constantly for the last couple of years, I almost feel comfortable about it. I don't know if they're great people, really. But it seems the ones in Thornbridge are better than others. They look out for me, or at least, they try. They've always listened to me, especially Detective De La Cruz.

So, the police, who I'd never fully trust, haven't been as scary as Kim in a long time. Mostly because it seems she's never fully learned how to manipulate them into hating me, and she's great at that.

Sitting in the back of the car while the eerie night surrounds it, I don't feel so safe anymore. I'm alone with my thoughts, trapped with the events of the day, replaying on a loop. I watch them all like a movie, the screen fading to black before my hands got on Kim.

It's the worst movie I've ever seen. So disgustingly sad—pathetic, really. Little Jade Donovan—unwanted by all. Lied to. Abused with horrid words.

Not only insults but daunting threats. I could die tonight, according to Kim. If her theory is right, I should be running for my life. Whether her word is shit or not, I can't make myself move. I can't make myself do anything other than stare at my bloodied hands and wait.

Admittedly, I'd gazed at the stunning mansion for a bit, mesmerized by the sheer size and luxury of it. It was overstimulating though. Watching it only made my head flood with more questions.

Does he live here? Dante. My father? Was he upset about being interrupted on a random weekend evening? The idea soured my gut. Am I already becoming a burden to him?

So many minutes pass that the air in the car becomes stale, and for my lung's sake, I'm considering cracking my door open for a bit of fresh air.

Like that thought alone has conjured him, Officer Brian materializes, opening my door slowly. I flinch at the sound of it, swinging my eyes to him. Except, it's not Officer Brian looking back at me.

It's a mirror. A distorted one that makes me look older and manly. Crystal blue eyes, dark hair, full lips, strong cheekbones… so similar it feels like a hallucination.

"Jade?" the man—not mirror—asks. His voice is deep and thick with rasp.

A pathetic whimper crawls up my throat and my face crumples. "D-dad?"

I can't watch him react or hear him reply before bursting into hysterical sobs. I can't breathe with the strength of them, blinded by the huge tears flooding my eyes. My ribs expand and deflate in rapid movements as I begin to panic. I never cry like this, not in front of anyone. I break hard, but I break alone.

I'm pulled out of the car and into strong arms, held tight against an unfamiliar chest. For the first time in a long time, my skin doesn't scream with the contact. I don't feel the powerful urge to kick and punch and claw my way out of his hold. I slump into it, going soft, and bury my head into the warm crook of his neck to hide my tears.

My legs dangle off of the ground as he begins to move, gently shushing me while walking away from the chill of the night and toward the mansion. A large hand cups the back of my neck, resting on top of my disheveled hair.

"Shhh," he coaxes as my ribs spasm and my lungs drag in shaky breaths. "You're alright, sweetheart. It's okay, shhh."

The air around us becomes so warm it's like I could reach out and touch the barrier from cold to heat. He's brought me inside, called me sweetheart, and told me it's okay. I feel like I could cry like this for days, but I have an itch to make it all stop. I can't be sobbing on a stranger, getting tears and snot all over him. I refuse.

Like a switch, I begin to shut it all down. The remaining moisture in my eyes is blinked away, the panic in my chest calms, and the emotion in my throat unclogs. It's not an instant, but it's fast enough, ending with the slowing of my breaths. I put away the awful feelings, shelving them in their brain compartment, and then walk away.

I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve before lifting my eyes. The mirrored blue ones are there when I do, staring right back at me.

"This is freaky as fuck," a new voice rings out, shocking me enough to make me flinch.

I'm slowly put back down on my feet, and my supposed bio-dad stays close but angles himself to the side, revealing more people. At the forefront stand nine men. All are tall, with different levels of broadness, varying in age, and all looking relatively alike.

"What's good, little sis?" the same voice from before chimes, coming from the smirking face of one of the new men. He's young, brunette, and wearing a playful expression that doesn't quite match his sharp features.

A brother, apparently.

Um, multiple brothers?

Nine. There are nine of them.

My eyes sting with more potential tears as I lock eyes on another mirror. He's younger than the first mirror, and his eyes hold more skepticism than Dante's. He's guarded or grumpy; either way, I'm not sure that he's pleased to see me.

"Jade?" Dante asks, and I jolt, looking up at him so fast that my body jerks with the movement. I get the feeling that he's said something, and I've entirely missed it while staring.

"W-what?"

He doesn't get frustrated or upset that I've clearly tuned him out. If I even accidentally misheard something Kim said, she would go ballistic. Not Dante, though.

"I was introducing everyone," he explains, clearing his throat. Slowly, he points to each of the nine men, naming them one by one. "Apollo, Leon, Cassio, Elio, Emilio, Armani, Nico, Remo, and Matteo. That's in order of birth, but I don't expect you to remember that right away. I'm sure it'll take a few weeks to get used to everyone. Though, they don't all live here with us."

A few weeks? Us?

"You want me to live with you?" I ask, trying to keep my jaw off of the floor.

Immediately, my mind begins to spin with poisoned taunts.

Of course, he doesn't want you to live with him! You're a stranger. You're probably not even his daughter. That would be just like Kim, throwing you to the wolves and laughing as they tear you apart.

"Of course, you'll live here," Dante responds without hesitation or doubt in his tone.

"Pending a DNA test?" The cold question comes from the oldest and the other mirror, Apollo. The words would hurt if they weren't entirely logical. The question makes more sense than anything else has all day.

"Apollo," Dante says like a warning. "There will be no test."

"Can there be?" I blurt out nervously. "I-I want one if it's not too much trouble."

It's so slight I could be imagining it, but I swear Dante stiffens.

"Damn," Matteo, the playful youngest one, chuckles. "Rejecting us on day one, little sister? Ouch."

The idea of having this family, becoming a part of it, and then one day figuring out I don't actually belong here is crushing. It would kill me, literally kill me, to have this and then have it ripped away. I've wanted a family since I understood the concept, and being teased with the idea of it… I need to know for certain.

Flushing, I begin to explain. "I didn't mean?—"

"It's okay," Dante interrupts. "If you want one, we'll do it."

"He's already eating out of your hand," Matteo muses with a grin. "You're definitely his daughter. Always wanted a girl, didn't you, pops?"

"Doc can be in here ten," Apollo interjects, looking up from a phone I didn't see him take out. "He'll bring the test kit, it'll take an hour for the rapid one."

An hour? My stomach sinks.

There's a possibility that all of this ends in an hour. Would they throw me out as soon as the test comes back?

"Jade," Dante says, pulling my attention back. His warm, calloused hands hold my shoulders, and his eyes bore into mine. "I don't care what the test says, you're here to stay. You're my daughter."

He can't mean that. There's no way.

But the part of me that always holds on to doubt to keep me safe seems to melt away with his gentle declaration.

"O-okay," I whisper, barely keeping it together.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. I don't know if I can eat without throwing up. "We were having dinner?—"

Internally, I scream. I interrupted their dinner. Dante said they don't all live here too, what if they had to travel for this! Oh god.

Nervously, I bite my lip. "Maybe something small?" I can pick at a roll or take a few bites of some salad if it means they can continue their dinner.

"Sweet," Matteo cheers, already moving to leave. "I want my steak before it's cold."

I want to apologize, but Dante is already guiding me out of the room, following my—maybe—brothers.

The dining room is not what I'm expecting. It's huge, yes, but it's also unmistakably cozy, like a real home. When I get a look at the table, I release a relieved breath. Nothing seems to be cold.

The plates are steaming actually, filled with fresh food. Thick steaks, potatoes piled high, and buttery broccolini. There's an older woman with gray hair and wide glasses tending to the table who looks up as we all file in. I get the feeling that she's kept their food warm or replaced it completely, without being asked.

Matteo is more than pleased, going to her side and taking the woman's hand, sighing with happiness. "Oh, Martha, when will you return my affections? You're the perfect woman. Say the word, and I'll marry you in a minute."

She scoffs at him like he's a silly little boy and bats his hands away. "Eat your food and mind your manners or no dessert for you."

He gasps. "Martha, you could never deprive me of your pastries. What would I do with my after-dinner coffee?"

"Hopefully, choke on it," Apollo chimes.

"Fucking rude," Matteo grumbles, sitting down.

Everyone else takes their seats, starting in on their plates. No one barks at them to wait for Dante to eat first or to slow down. They're free to dig in without punishment. So bizarre, but so right.