Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
We take the stairs, Arria walking ahead, making sure nobody’s going to interrupt us. Enzo has shrunk back like the coward he is. I know this night is going to take a piece of me. I tried to live on the bright side, be The Savior, and nothing more. But they couldn’t help themselves. They had to summon the Nightmare.
Finally, we make it to the apartment. I shove Enzo inside, drag him over to a chair, grab the rope from the table, and begin tying him up. Arria looks at me with that same confusion on her pretty face. I hate it. I can’t stand it. She agreed to this plan but maybe the darkness was easier to handle in theory.
“Now what?” she says, having tied Enzo up.
“We pray Lucy can make it.”
“Then?”
I take Arria’s hands, holding them as gently as possible on a night like this. Already, parts of me are becoming cold. The savage in me is waking up. I’m going to have to kill two men tonight. There’s no going back. I’ve kidnapped the mafia prince. If I let him go now, he’d never forgive, never forget.
“We go on with our lives,” I tell her.
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t think about tomorrow,” I admit. “Tonight is messed up enough.”
She squeezes my hands supportively. “You’re doing the right thing. We’re doing the right thing. We’re in this together.”
“When you looked at me earlier, I thought you were judging me.”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t my world. It’s a shock. That’s all. I am not judging you, I promise.”
My nerves get worse the longer we wait. Every second we spend sitting here, with Enzo tied up and Arria unable to hide her anxiety, is another second we risk everything going wrong. When my phone buzzes, I leap on it. Is it Lucy?
I smile, somehow. Arria’s a miracle worker.
Arriana: I don’t want to keep talking in front of HIM. How are you holding up?
She’s looking at me with those understanding, beautiful eyes of hers.
Me: I’m doing okay, angel. Mostly, I don’t want you to fear me. We both know what I’m going to have to do.
Arriana: For the city. For us. You said they were bad men.
Enzo looks at me, then at Arria. I glare at Enzo, before he can smirk, laugh or make some other derisive gesture. He lowers his gaze. He’s a coward without his men backing him up—when he can’t bully women and kids.
Me: They’re evil. If I’m the Savior, they’re mafia monsters.
Arriana: What will you do to him if Lucy doesn’t get here?
Me: I’ll have to get rid of him now either way. He’s seen too much. He knows how much I care about you. How much you’ve changed me. When this is over, I’m going to put the darkness behind me. I never wanted to be part of this world. We’ll build a life worth living, Arria.
The whole time I type, Arria watches me with emotion on her pretty face.
I watch her as she types. Her cheeks are flushed with her emotions. Her thumbs move quickly. I want to hold her, glide my hands through her hair, be with her.
Arriana: I was going to ask, what about Dad? What about my travels? Blah, blah, blah… Here, now, none of it seems to matter. It’s like all this evil has made me focus on the good.
Me: I know the feeling.
Arria freezes when I stand up. Her senses aren’t as attuned to her surroundings as mine are. Outside, footsteps approach the door. I stalk to the edge of the hallway as Enzo moans through his gag, trying to warn his father. Both of them are sadists, I remind myself. Both of them have done unspeakable things.
I almost regretted telling Arria about all the things they’d done. Why did I do it, to absolve myself in her eyes?
“This is quite the love palace, Lucia,” Dominic drawls. “Are the walls soundproof? You’ll be making lots of noises tonight… not all of them good.” He laughs coldly. “You know you have to pay me back for spending so long with that mafia savior moron.”
“The walls aren’t soundproof, but nobody around here cares what noises we make, baby.”
Lucy’s tone is so clearly fake to me. Men like Dominic hear what they want.
The door opens. Dominic walks into the room and pauses, staring at his son.
“What the he—”
I leap on him, wrapping my arm around his neck and squeezing tight. His legs kick as I choke him until finally, he becomes still, falling unconscious. I carry him across the room and place him on the second chair I’ve set out, gag him, then tie him up.
“Lucy, take Arria home,” I say, my voice and soul harder. “Did you bring Dominic’s car?”
“Yes. He has the keys,” Lucy says breathlessly.
“Where is it parked?”
“Directly across the street.”