Chapter 290 THE HOUSE OF BLOOD
Chapter 290 THE HOUSE OF BLOOD
POV: Zuri
The coordinates on the radio belong to one place.
The Moretti estate.
My childhood home.
The place I spent years trying to forget.
I stare at the screen.
For a moment, I can't breathe.
Amani watches me carefully.
“You don't have to go.”
I look at him.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightens.
“Zuri.”
“I do.”
I close my fingers around the edge of the table.
“If Marco is there, I need to know why.”
Amani doesn't argue.
He simply reaches for his weapon.
“Then I'm coming with you.”
We leave before sunrise.
Only four motorcycles.
Amani.
Me.
Ghost.
Rex.
Two trusted riders follow behind us.
That's it.
I insisted on keeping the group small.
If Marco wanted to talk, bringing the entire Iron Kings MC would turn a family confrontation into a war.
The road toward the estate feels longer than I remember.
Every mile pulls another piece of my childhood back into my head.
The old road.
The trees.
The stone wall.
Then I see them.
The Moretti gates.
My heart drops.
They are open.
No guards.
No cars.
No lights.
Nothing.
Amani slows his motorcycle.
“That's not normal.”
I stare at the gates.
“No.”
Ghost looks around.
“Could be a trap.”
“It is,” Amani says.
He looks at me.
“Stay close.”
We ride through the gates.
Nobody attacks.
Nobody stops us.
The silence is worse.
Marco wanted us here.
He wanted us to walk inside.
The house hasn't changed.
That's what hurts most.
The same stone walls.
The same tall windows.
The same staircase leading to the upper floor.
I step through the front door.
My chest tightens.
I remember running through this hallway.
I remember hiding behind the staircase.
I remember my mother sitting in the dining room.
I remember Marco stealing food from the kitchen and blaming me when Father found out.
For a second...
I almost smile.
Then the memory changes.
My father shouting.
A glass breaking.
My mother crying.
Marco standing between us.
Blood on his shirt.
I stop walking.
Amani notices.
“What is it?”
“I remember this place.”
“You don't have to force it.”
“I know.”
I take another step.
“But I need to.”
We move deeper into the house.
Every room feels like a wound.
The dining room.
The library.
The hallway.
My mother's old sitting room.
I touch the back of a chair.
A memory flashes.
My mother holding my hand.
Her voice.
“Whatever happens, stay close to Marco.”
Then another memory.
Marco standing outside my bedroom.
Blood running down his arm.
“Zuri.”
He looked terrified.
“When I tell you to run...”
He glanced toward the hallway.
“Don't look back.”
The memory disappears.
I close my eyes.
“Who said that?”
Amani steps closer.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
But someone had said it.
Someone had tried to save me.
Ghost finds the first photograph.
It's sitting on a table in the hallway.
I pick it up.
It's me at six years old.
I don't remember the picture.
Another photograph waits on the next table.
Me at eight.
Another.
Me at ten.
Another.
Me at twelve.
Amani studies them.
“He's been keeping track of you.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
He looks at me.
I turn another photograph over.
A date is written on the back.
Then a name.
My mother's handwriting.
Zuri's first day of school.
I look at another.
Marco and me standing beside our mother.
Another shows us at the beach.
Another shows Marco holding my birthday cake.
These aren't surveillance pictures.
They're family pictures.
Pictures taken by people who loved me.
I look at Amani.
“Marco wasn't watching me.”
“What was he doing?”
“Remembering me.”
The thought hurts.
Maybe he had spent years trying to preserve the pieces of our family that Antonio destroyed.
We reach the end of the hallway.
I stop.
The door in front of me is locked.
My father's office.
I haven't entered this room since I was a child.
Amani reaches for the handle.
“Don't.”
I look at him.
“We don't know what's inside.”
“That's exactly why I have to go in.”
“Zuri.”
I step closer to the door.
“This house took years from me.”
I look at him.
“I'm done being afraid of the rooms inside it.”
Amani studies me.
Then he steps beside me.
“Then we go together.”
Ghost checks the door.
“Locked.”
Rex examines the frame.
“Old lock.”
Amani pulls a tool from his pocket.
A few seconds later...
Click.
The door opens.
Dust fills the air.
The room is exactly as I remember.
My father's desk.
His books.
His old chair.
The smell of tobacco.
The curtains are still closed.
Ghost searches the room.
“Nothing.”
Rex checks the shelves.
“Nothing here.”
I walk toward the desk.
Something feels wrong.
I open the drawers.
Empty.
I check another.
Empty.
Then the last one sticks.
I pull harder.
It opens.
Inside is a file.
A passport.
A birth certificate.
A photograph.
And a medical report.
My hands go cold.
Amani picks up the file.
The cover has three words.
PROJECT ZURI.
He looks at me.
“This wasn't a family file.”
I open it.
The first page contains one sentence.
SUBJECT MUST NEVER REMEMBER THE NIGHT OF THE FIRE.
My vision blurs.
The words seem to move.
Fire.
Smoke.
Screaming.
My mother's voice.
Marco carrying me.
Antonio shouting.
A car waiting outside.
Someone holding my arm.
A needle.
Pain.
Darkness.
I gasp.
My knees give way.
Amani catches me.
“Zuri!”
I grab his jacket.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“The fire.”
My breathing becomes uneven.
“I remember the fire.”
Then everything disappears again.
When I open my eyes...
Someone is standing in the doorway.
I freeze.
A man.
Older than I remember.
His face is harder.
There is a scar along his jaw.
A gun hangs loosely in his hand.
But he isn't pointing it at me.
Marco.
My brother.
For a moment, nobody moves.
Amani reaches for his weapon.
Marco raises one hand.
“Don't.”
Amani stops.
Marco looks at me.
His eyes are different from the last time I saw him in my memories.
Tired.
Guilty.
Broken.
I push myself to my feet.
“Why?”
His face tightens.
“Zuri—”
“Why?”
He looks away.
“Because I failed you.”
“You left me.”
“I thought I was saving you.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I needed Antonio to believe it too.”
My chest hurts.
“You could have found me.”
“I tried.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
I laugh bitterly.
“Then why didn't you come?”
“Because every person who got close to you disappeared.”
Silence.
Marco looks at Amani.
Then back at me.
“I couldn't risk leading Antonio to you.”
Amani steps forward.
Marco raises the gun.
“Don't.”
Amani stops.
Marco's eyes remain on me.
“You were never supposed to remember the fire.”
My voice shakes.
“Who erased my memories?”
He hesitates.
Then answers.
“Our father.”
The room goes silent.
I stare at him.
Antonio.
My father.
The man who controlled every part of my childhood.
The man who told me my mother was dead.
The man who made me believe Marco had abandoned me.
“How?”
Marco lowers the gun.
“He had people working for him.”
“Doctors?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you saw something that night.”
My heart pounds.
“What?”
Marco shakes his head.
“I don't know everything.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
His voice breaks.
“I've spent years trying to find the people who helped him.”
“What happened to them?”
“Some disappeared.”
“Some were killed.”
I swallow.
“And one?”
Marco looks at me.
“One is still alive.”
My heart stops.
“Who?”
Marco's eyes move toward Amani.
Then back to me.
“The person who knows exactly what happened to you.”
Before he can say another word...
The lights come on.
Every light in the house.
One after another.
The front doors slam shut.
Then every window locks.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Ghost immediately raises his weapon.
“Everyone move!”
Rex rushes toward the door.
It doesn't open.
Amani grabs my arm.
“Stay behind me.”
Then the speakers crackle.
A voice fills the house.
A voice I know too well.
A voice that once ruled every room I entered.
“Welcome home, Zuri.”
My blood turns cold.
Antonio.
Marco's expression changes.
For the first time since we entered the house...
He looks afraid.
Amani raises his weapon toward the ceiling.
“Antonio!”
A soft laugh comes through the speakers.
“You brought the Iron Kings into my home.”
I look around.
My childhood home.
The house I thought I'd escaped.
The house that had been waiting for me.
Marco looks at me.
“He's been listening to us.”
Amani looks toward the ceiling.
“Where is he?”
Marco shakes his head.
“No.”
His voice is barely a whisper.
“He's not listening anymore.”
The lights flicker.
Once.
Twice.
Then every light in the house goes red.
Marco looks toward the hallway.
His grip tightens around his gun.
“He's here.”
I stop breathing.
Somewhere inside the house...
A door closes.
Slowly.
Then footsteps begin moving through the darkness.
Toward us.