Beautiful Nightmare (Dark Dream 2)

Maybe it was more nefarious.

But I resolved right then, standing in the cold, dark night on the balcony of the Constantine Compound with the world seemingly laid at my feet, that I would find answers. My entire life had been filled with mystery and skeletons rattling around in closets. I was determined to bring them into the light once and for all, regardless of the consequences.

“I’m staying,” I told Elias, clutching both his cold hands in mine and raising them between us as I stepped closer. “They invited me, Elias. I want to know why.”

“You want to die?” he countered brutishly.

“Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, staying here is the best shot I have of getting Brando back from Tiernan.”

“Why don’t you just resolve whatever the hell happened between you and go home?” he protested. “I know he’s a Morelli, but you seemed…happy with him.”

Home and happiness.

Yeah, for a brief moment, like a star falling through the sky, I’d felt both at Lion Court with Tiernan and his motley crew.

But like most wishes made on a shooting star, it hadn’t lasted.

“I’m done with other people dictating my life,” I told him, fury and resolve casing the words into bullets. “I’m almost eighteen years old and I’ve been through…a lot. I’m old enough and strong enough to take this on.”

“Take what on?! The Morellis and the fucking Constantines? People more powerful than you have tried and failed, Bianca. What in the world makes you think you’ll be the exception?” he demanded.

The smile that claimed my face was sly and triumphant, because for the first time in my life, I felt like I had the edge.

“Because everyone will underestimate me, they always have,” I reasoned. “Only this time, I’m only going to act the naïve ingenue. They expect a lamb, and maybe I was before, but now, I’m going to give them a lion. While they’re lulled into a false sense of security, I’ll discover the truth.”

Elias stared at me, eyes hard, almost inanimate, for a long moment. I flinched when he finally raised his hand to push away some of the hair on my right shoulder. He pressed his thumb into the skin of my neck, pushing into the bruise I’d forgotten Tiernan had left with his teeth and lips like a scarlet letter.

“Be careful,” he whispered. “Sometimes, the truth hurts more than the lies.”

“I’m tired of being clueless and taken advantage of when I don’t even know why I’m being used like a pawn.” I felt filled to the brim with conviction, with righteous purpose like Joan of Arc on the eve of battle. This was my fight, so why wasn’t I fighting? It was about time I figured things out for myself and no one, not even Elias, was going to stop me. “I’m doing this, Elias, and I’d like your help, if you’ll give it.”

He squinted at me before sighing, a long ribbon of air that brushed my cheek because we were still standing too close.

“Fine,” he finally said, the one word filled with resignation. “But you have to know, I’m not doing this because we’re cousins. I’m doing it because we’re friends. I don’t want you to get hurt and if I can do something to stop that happening, I will.”

His words washed over me like warm spring rain even in the cold winter night. I pulled him into a hug and held him so tightly, I could feel the bones creak in his spine.

“You know, my whole life that’s all I ever wanted,” I whispered as I pressed my nose into his neck. “Someone to fight for me. With me.”

“Well, you’ve got your wish. Let’s see what we can do about making some of the others come true.”

6

TIERNAN

It was five in the morning and I hadn’t slept.

How could I?

Everything in my world was wrong like some interloper had entered my home and put everything askew.

Bianca was with Caroline.

Bryant was too quiet, licking his wounds while he no doubt planned his revenge.

And I had the key to the Constantine’s ruin and the Belcante’s fortune in my possession with no idea where the locked treasure even lay.

It was a peculiarly lonely exercise to watch your life fall apart and know you were responsible for the destruction.

I wasn’t used to such chaos and it ravaged my insides, dredging up emotion and inner reflection, both of which I hadn’t practiced in years. Since the day Grace took her own life and that of our child.

My fist hit the black bag with a solid series of thwacks that vibrated up my arm into my shoulders. I went easy with my left hand because of the wound to my shoulder, just tapping the bag with my knuckles, but I overcompensated with my right. It was a painful exercise, but it grounded me. After a lifetime of being beaten physically and emotionally, I found comfort in the ache and sting.