The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen
The skin is stretched tight, translucent, revealing the blue veins pulsing beneath.
Something moves inside me. A kick. Hard. Violent.
It hurts.
"It’s a Vitale," she says.
I look back at her face.
She is crying.
But they aren't tears.
Thick, dark red drops well up in her eyes. They spill over her lashes. They track down her pale cheeks like war paint.
Blood.
She is crying blood.
"Blood always finds blood," she says. Her voice is rising, becoming a shriek. "You can't run from the DNA, Graziella. You can't scrub it out. You can't bleach it away."