Free Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) by J.M. Darhower Page B

suggest you take a step back and let me do my job, or you just might go down also. You got me, Galante?"
    "I got you, Detective, but get me," Dante said. "I've spent my entire life protecting certain people, and no threat from you is going to stop me from doing that."
    His expression shifted, the smugness he'd walked in wearing fading. The man had a family, a wife and a daughter, so maybe he knew all about protecting the ones he loved. But he didn't know what it was like to lose them. He didn't know what it was like to give your all but still fail .
    "It wasn't a threat. It was a warning. Don't get in my way." The detective turned to walk out but paused in the doorway. "I'm sure your father's elated about your survival. Must have been torture, not knowing. I'm hoping we get to bring the Barsanti family the same kind of news, but so far it hasn't happened."
    The detective walked out, leaving behind an unsettling tension that coated Dante's skin. He felt eyes on him, a curious gaze. He glanced at the nurse, seeing a flicker of something in her eyes.
    Concern .
    "What happened to you?" she whispered.
    He stared at her as a strange sensation stirred inside of him, compelling him to tell her, to confide in her, but he shook it off before any of the truth spilled from his lips.
    "It doesn't matter what happened," he said. "What matters is that I survived it."
    She didn't press the issue, pushing some buttons on some machines, before stepping away. Pausing beside the bed, she looked down at him. "Some advice, Mr. Galante?"
    He raised his eyebrows.
    "This is their game here, not yours… meaning while you're playing, they make the rules," she said. "So you've got two options: either you play along or you forfeit. Because standing on the field, trying to make up your own rules, won't work for anybody."
    She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, before walking out of the room, leaving him to his isolating peace.

    * * *
    W hen Genna awoke on the grubby couch, bright sunlight streamed through the nearby windows, the glare blinding. Holy shit . Squinting, she pulled herself up to a sit, shielding her eyes. No curtains. No blinds. Who the hell lived in the desert and didn't block out the sunlight?
    Masochists. That's who .
    Her entire body ached, spots of her sore from the springs poking her all night long. Grimacing, she looked around, realizing she was alone.
    "Matty?" she called out, her voice loud in the old house, bouncing off the vacant walls.
    No answer.
    In the light, the house appeared ransacked. Nails stuck out of the walls where pictures used to hang, broken frames sitting around, a layer of grime coating everything. Reaching over to the end table, she picked up a small picture frame than had been face down. The glass was smashed, inside of it a faded photograph—a man, a woman, and two kids: a boy and girl. Twins ?
    "It's like The Shining up in here," she muttered, standing up and stretching, before setting the frame back down. She strolled through the downstairs, peeking into the same rooms she'd seen the night before. There was no sign of Matty, so she headed for the stairs, skimming her hand along the thick banister. The wood was rough, and she jerked her hand back when a massive splinter jabbed her, stabbing right into her skin.
    Groaning, she yanked it out, keeping her hands to herself as she made the trek upstairs, the wooden steps squeaking beneath her. The second floor was even more eerie, ruts dug all along the floor leading down the hallway. She peeked in rooms as she went, finding a master bedroom with the bed frame still set up, the mattress half-pulled off of it, annihilated like someone had torn into it, ripping it apart. The rest of the room was intact, empty wine bottles scattered all around the floor.
    "Oh-kayy," she mumbled as she moved on, heading further down the hall. She encountered a girl's bedroom next, judging by the belongings still hanging in the closet, old makeup scattered along a