Just as Zig promised, Deacon, Kade, and Toby kept their distance. Toby kept watch on the front porch. Deacon and Kade stayed upstairs. I found myself needing the quiet solitude of the farmhouse basement. Just a few hours ago, I’d likened it to a prison. It was that, but it also gave me just the frame of mind I needed to start clearing my head.

Toby brought lunch back. Carry-out tacos from some stand he knew about down the highway. They were the best I’d ever tasted, but I chose to eat alone while the others stayed upstairs. With a full stomach, I fingered the buttons on the flip phone Zig had given me.

My plan had been to call my mother. I dialed her number half a dozen times but clicked off before it started to ring. I knew with icy certainty that she would tell me lies. I hadn’t wanted to face it, but she’d been doing that to me and everyone she knew her entire life. Every move Christine DiSalvo had ever made had been to protect her husband, even from me.

So I dialed my brother Georgio’s number. We’d never been close. He and Gino Jr. were more than ten years older than me. After them had come my brother Joey. He was twenty-six now but still did everything Georgio and Gino Jr. told him. Closest in age to me was Gianni at twenty-three. My mother had always joked he was my father’s favorite next to me. We’d been tight when we were younger, but since Gianni had been old enough to go to work for my father, we barely talked anymore. Now I understood it. Even Gianni had been let in on the big, dark secret. I was still the one to be shielded and lied to.

It rang and rang and I wondered whether the unfamiliar number had scared him off. But he finally answered, his gruff voice sending a flare of anger through me.

“It’s me,” I said. If Georgio had asked me who I was, I might have tried to strangle him through the phone. He didn’t. Instead, he let out an audible sigh that answered almost every question I had swirling through my brain.

He didn’t ask me if I was okay. I knew why. He thought of me as one more problem he had to deal with since Dad couldn’t take care of things anymore.

“Hey, sis,” he finally said. If I closed my eyes, I could see Georgio’s weary expression. He had our father’s deep-set eyes and hooded lids. In fact, he was almost a carbon copy of Gino DiSalvo Sr. in his younger days. Much more so than his namesake, my oldest brother. God, had they lied to me about what happened to Junior too? Every time I asked about him, I got blank stares and whispers behind my back. My blood felt like it had turned to cement, hardening with more truths than I was willing to process in one day.

“Don’t make me beg you to tell me what’s going on,” I said. “And don’t lie to me. Not anymore.”

Georgio’s fake laughter made me grip the phone so tight it’s a wonder I didn’t break it in half.

“I heard things got a little exciting for you last night.” It wasn’t concern in Georgio’s voice. If anything, he seemed annoyed.

“Are you going to tell me you’ve got this handled?” I asked. A lightbulb went off. Zig had been right about so many things. I’d been burying my head in the sand where my father’s business dealings had been concerned. Georgio probably resented me for it. It didn’t make me feel empathy for him, but I knew the only way to get him to treat me like an equal was to pretend we were on the same page all along.

“Oh, I handle everything, Gina,” he said. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“Georgio ... someone tried to kill Daddy.”

The phone went dead silent. I’d called my brother with every intention of asking him to confirm that one simple fact. His silence did more than that. For an instant, I felt hollowed out. The ground beneath my feet seemed to shift on its axis. Then, as I took slow, steady breaths, things came sharply into focus. I told myself I believed Zig, but my brother’s reaction broke the last, tenuous hold I had to the false world my parents had created for me.

“Georgio,” I said. “I’m asking you if you’ve got this handled. Because right now it doesn’t really feel like you do. Who’s running things anyway? You? Mommy?”

“Gina, you just need to sit tight.”

“Were the bikers your idea or hers?”

Georgio went silent, then cleared his throat, and I got my answer. My mother was still in charge. My brother had to hate that. It gave me a sense of smug satisfaction. It also meant she hadn’t seen fit to send anyone to watch Georgio’s back. I didn’t know whether that should make me feel better or scare the hell out of me even more.

“I’m coming home,” I said. That hadn’t been part of my plan either, but the minute I made the decision in my mind, I realized how badly I needed to. If I was ever going to stand on my own two feet, I needed to see my father with my own eyes. And I needed to confront my mother once and for all. Zig might have the broad strokes of what was happening in my family, but my parents would have shielded the Dark Saints from the finer details. They were, after all, hired help.

“Gina, I told you. Sit tight. You storming back into Port Azrael is only going to raise questions.”

“Questions about what? About you? Mommy? Whatever’s happening, it impacts me too. Jesus, Georgio, someone tried to kill me last night. Do you hear me? Whether you like it or not, we’re still family. I have a seat at this table. And I’m done letting other people make decisions for me without even having a say.”

Georgio sputtered on the other end of the line. This was a little sister he’d never met before. Good. I wanted him unsettled. I wanted to take back whatever control I had left of my life.

Now I just had to figure out a way to convince the wall of ink and muscle upstairs that it was time to take me home.