The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

I, personally, didn’t have any big plans for myself.

I just wanted a chance to be free, to go where I wanted, to see who I wanted, to eat what I wanted.

I didn’t want fancy things for myself. I wasn’t a fancy person.

I wanted similar things to what my parents wanted.

A house full of things that meant something to us personally, enough money not to worry, a partner I loved more than anything, and the children where the two of us would pour all that overflowing love.

“Ugh, here we go again,” Judy said when the door opened.

And, sure enough, it was someone to “poke and prod” at her.

So Brio and I went ahead and took our leave, knowing her sister would be back soon from going home for a shower and change.

“Surprised she wants to go back to that place,” Brio said as we made our way out of the hospital.

I had been at first too.

Until I gave it some thought.

I could practically hear Judy’s voice in my ear saying something like, “Do you really think I would let some shithead drive me out of my home? My sanctuary? Absolutely not.”

That was Judy to a T.

She endured abuse of her own from an unworthy man. When she got free, she had very carefully built a new life for herself, one she loved, and would absolutely never give up for a man.

She would just clear up the debris and rebuild.

That was the kind of woman she was.

“I was—“ I started, then saw a familiar face pop up out of nowhere. “Alara, are you following us?” I asked, brows furrowing at her smirk.

“I’ve been for hours,” she admitted. “You only know because I stepped out.”

“Clocked you three cabs behind us two turns away from the hotel,” Brio said, putting a pin in her balloon. “But you’re good,” he added, nodding. “No one else would have noticed.”

“Right. My super sneaky skills are nothing compared to a lifetime in the mafia. So, anyway, word on the street is that you guys are heading to the pawnshop today.”

“This street,” I said, brow raising. “Does it go by the name of Anthony Costa?” I asked.

“I don’t even need a bodyguard,” Alara insisted, shooting me small eyes for being too overprotective. “And if I was going to get one, I couldn’t get the able-bodied Cesare? You had to stick me with the defective guy? You know how I shook him?” she asked, looking expectantly at Brio. “I tossed his keys on the floor. He can’t bend down. What kind of bodyguard is that?”

“He was more of a babysitter than a bodyguard,” I admitted.

“I’m an adult.”

“You are a menace to society,” I shot back, smiling at the pleased look that flooded her face.

“I will wear that title proudly. In fact, if you could get me a sash made up with just that on it, I would be thrilled. Anyway, the pawnshop…”

“Why are you so excited about the pawnshop?” I asked, feeling a twisting sensation in my stomach. “Did you have to hock something important?”

“Right. Like I had anything important,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to go.”

“Don’t see any harm in it,” Brio said, shrugging.

I didn’t either, so we all filed into Brio’s car since we planned to load it down with some of my mom’s old stuff if we came across it, then headed downtown to the shop where I’d gone with Eren’s clothes.

That, apparently, had been when the whole situation had gone to hell.

Brio had told me that revelation he’d gotten out of Deniz.

While we were having our meeting with Lorenzo—and, you know, screwing in the backseat of the town car—Berat had shown up at the shop, offering a boatload of money to the owner. And thanks to his ongoing gambling problem, there had been no way the guy was going to turn the offer down.

He hadn’t even asked any questions. He’d just gone right along with it.

Telling them who I had left with.

From there, it was likely a small amount of leg-work to figure out that the owner was telling the truth, that I’d been seen with Brio Costa more than a few times.

We’d been relatively careful.

No one normal would have found anything odd about our interaction.

But if someone was looking for damning information, they were going to find it.

And they had.

Horrible things easily happened when too many immoral men got together and hatched a plan.

Thankfully, we hadn’t been completely in the dark. And the damage hadn’t been catastrophic.

I mean, the guilt I felt over Judy was pretty all-consuming, but I would have a lifetime to make that up to her.

“He was such a slimebag,” Alara declared as we stepped inside the pawnshop that had that unique smell of ‘other people’s things’ all gathered in one place. Must and dust and hints of different perfumes or cleaners.