The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

I raised her.

And she turned into a monster.

What did that say about me?

Last I heard, when it came to the old argument of nature vs. nurture, most experts agreed that the environment had the biggest impact on how people turned out.

I'd raised a woman who could lure other women into a sex trafficking ring.

I'd somehow had a hand in that.

A low, whimpering noise escaped me, making me curl into a ball on the seat of Luca's car, my eyes pressed into my knees, my arms wrapping around my legs, wishing I could curl myself tight enough to disappear entirely.

Luca parked, carried me upstairs, kicked out of his shoes, pulled mine off me, and curled me up tight in bed. Almost like he was single-handedly in charge of holding me together as I fell apart.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he requested a long while later.

"That I created a monster."

"Sweetheart, you didn't create anything."

"I did, though. I did, Luca. I raised her. Our mom was away most of the time. I raised her. I did something wrong that she turned out like this, that she'd be willing to do something like this. That is on me. Somehow, someway, I screwed up."

"Listen to me, some people are just fucked up. And some people fall in with bad crowds and it rubs off."

"And some people were made evil."

"Okay, yes," he relented, grabbing my chin, forcing it up. "But that isn't the case here."

"You can't know that."

"Yes, I can. I can know that. Because I know you. And there's nothing evil about you. Anything that went wrong with Celenia, it went wrong after you. Do you understand me? This isn't on you. Don't pick up weight that isn't yours to carry around."

"How could she do that?" I whispered, searching his face for answers.

"I can't say, sweetheart."

"And what are we supposed to do now?

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not naive, Luca," I told him, rolling away and onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. "My sister is involved in a ring that screwed you and your people over, made you look stupid. You can't let that stand."

"No," he agreed, not sparing my feelings. "We can't."

"So, what, then? You kill my sister?"

"I..." he paused, thinking. "I can't make that decision," he told me.

"So who has to? Me? I have to say it's okay to murder my sister? As wicked as she is, I don't know if I can make that call, Luca."

"Look, someone has to go down for this. But the way I see it, your sister probably isn't the ringleader here. Whoever they are, they can go down for this."

"And, what? My sister gets to walk free?"

"No. I think we both know we can't let that happen. But the feds can be tipped off to her location. And they can round up some witnesses for the trial. And your sister can go away for a good, long time. Maybe long enough to get the help she clearly needs."

I could live with that.