Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Here,” I say, putting the sweater over his shoulders. I tuck the gun away.
“Scarlett. I don’t want to leave you behind,” he says, and I know from his tone that he’ll acquiesce.
I smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. And besides, you’re not leaving me behind. I’m just coming a bit later.”
Leaving Cerberus in the bedroom we walk out into the hallway as casually as possible. We don’t pass any guards upstairs, but I hear them downstairs. They move quickly through the living room and out the front doors. I hear the chopper a few seconds later.
“Let’s go,” I tell Noah and we hurry to the door that leads to the cells. I only remember how dark it is down here once we’re through the door, but Cristiano thought of everything. There’s a small flashlight in the pouch we can use to make our way down the stairs and hurry as quietly as we can to the last cell. I think we both try to avert out gazes from the dark stains on the stone floor where Diego and Angel died.
I take the flashlight from Noah’s hand and pan it over the wall. Cristiano left the mattress slightly skewed and I find the boulder easily. Noah stays close behind and neither of us speak. I push on the boulder that is truly a door and after a few tries to find the right spot, it opens.
I smile, turn back to Noah whose eyes have gone wide.
“Here,” I say, walking into the black hole to pick up one of the bigger flashlights and switch it on. It blinks twice but stays on.
Noah steps in behind me, taking the sweater off his shoulders and slipping it on.
“How long is it?”
“Eight miles. It’s a straight shot.”
Noah looks at me. “Come with me. Now. We can go now.”
I shake my head, my eyes filling up again as I wrap my arms around my little brother. I can count the number of times over the past ten years that I’ve wondered if I’d ever see him again.
This time, the tears come, and I can’t stop them.
“Give me two days. I’ll be at the piazza. Under the tower. You know where I mean?”
“Yeah.”
“If I’m not there by nightfall on the second day, you leave and you don’t look back, understand?”
“Scarlett.” He hugs me so tight it hurts but I don’t want to let go. “Please come with me. Please just come away with me now.”
I hear how his voice wavers but just shake my head again, unable to speak.
“Do you love him?” he asks.
I draw back and look up at my little brother. I nod my head. “I think I do.”
“I’m glad.” He tries for a smile and hugs me to him again, holding me tighter than he’s ever held me before turning and disappearing into the tunnel.
I wipe my eyes as I make my way back up the stairs. It’s the right thing to do. I know it. But I also realize, in a way, by saying out loud that I would be there in two days’ time meant that it was a possibility I would not. And that this, tonight, was very possibly goodbye forever.
My mind is preoccupied as I reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner toward Cristiano’s bedroom. I don’t know where else to go when he’s not here, in the house. I’m an imposter without him to validate my presence. I don’t realize in time that the door is ajar or maybe I just don’t remember having left it that way. But when I walk inside, I stop dead because the room is not empty.
And it’s not Cristiano standing there.
It’s Dante.
And he has the gun Cristiano gave me pointed right at me.
24
Cristiano
Blood. Me on the cold, white marble floor. No. Not cold. But dark. Slippery like that night. Slipping in my own blood.
Someone calls my name but it’s an echo.
“David sends his regards.”
My uncle did this. My uncle slaughtered my family. Our family.
“Your wife is a dirty whore.”
Not a virgin.
“Your wife is a dirty whore. I may never have fucked her but let me tell you something. After seeing her take her Uncle Jacob’s filthy dick, I really couldn’t get it up for her anymore. That’s some nasty shit.”
No, not a virgin.
I punished her for it.
She paid for it.
“It won’t hurt as much.”
It was her uncle who’d hurt her. What had my father said?
“You’re blood. Never forget that blood matters, boys.”
Blood massacred my family.
Blood massacred hers. Blood violated her.
Our blood is corrupted.
Commotion around me. I open my eyes and see Marcus Rinaldi’s face. His eyes are open, too. Looking at me. But they’re empty. Dead. The knife still sticking out the side of his neck.
I reach for it. I want to dig it deeper. I need to. I want to sever his head from his body.