Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, princess,” Pops said in a hushed tone. “I tried… Just go with Marcello. He’ll make sure you get to Devil’s Creek. He won’t hurt you.”
After what they did to Aiden, I couldn’t trust them. They knew what happened to my brother.
“I can’t leave…” My voice trembled as I spoke. “I’m halfway through the chapel restoration with Madeline Laveau.”
“This can’t wait, Alex.”
“But I’ll never get another opportunity like this. Madeline will never work with me again.”
“Let me handle her,” he said in an authoritative tone. “I will explain everything when you arrive.”
No matter how much I hated Luca, I had no choice. Pops needed me. Keeping my gaze on Marcello, I turned off the Taser and shoved it into my bag. A horrible feeling churned in my gut, but I tried to ignore my body, which rejected my decision.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But I want answers.”
Pops let out a relieved breath. “I’ll see you soon, princess.”
Marcello flashed a satisfied grin like he won the game because the Salvatores always got their way.
Ten minutes later, Marcello pulled into my driveway. I lived in a two-story Craftsman-style house with a covered porch, an attached two-car garage, and a big backyard. Compared to the Salvatore Estate, this typical Midwestern home was the guest quarters' size at their compound.
As I jammed the key into the lock, Marcello stood behind me, so close his body heat radiated off him. He smelled like the sea, like Luca. Even though I hated Luca, I still missed him. He’d been a big part of my life for the last ten years.
Like his older brother, Marcello had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, olive skin, and big blue eyes. A bespoke Italian suit clung to his muscular body as if it were armor. He looked expensive but dangerous, a man who made your brain scream run while your body wanted to say hello.
“Make it quick.” Marcello shut the door behind him. “Our plane leaves in thirty minutes.”
I stopped in front of the staircase, gripping the wooden banister. “Is my grandfather in trouble?”
“Not if you come with me.”
“What did he do?”
He tipped his head toward the stairs. “Let’s go. We have a flight to catch. Your grandfather can answer your questions when we get to Devil’s Creek.”
My heart leaped out of my chest as I climbed the stairs. With Aiden’s whereabouts unknown, I only had Pops, so I could not let him down.
I strolled into my bedroom with Marcello. His eyes widened as he glanced at the mural I dedicated to my brother, who was a street artist. Aiden would have loved it. My piece spanned two walls, a mixture of reds, oranges, blacks, and whites that swirled into a cityscape that mirrored Devil’s Creek. Except the town was on fire and set in the Underworld. All the devils were there, even Marcello.
His eyes flicked between the walls and me, and then he shook his head. He stepped into my walk-in closet and emerged with two Louis Vuitton suitcases and the matching leather satchel. Marcello dropped the bags on the floor in front of me.
I tugged on my hairband, and pieces of plaster fell to the floor like snow. “Do I have time to shower?”
His nose wrinkled at my messy curls. “You have five minutes before I throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of this house. Do what you want with that time.”
I rolled my eyes. “So that’s a no.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, expressionless. “You can shower on the plane.”
I turned my back to Marcello and stuffed the sketchbooks and charcoal on my drafting table into the satchel. My art came first. If I weren’t coming home soon, I’d have to take everything I cared about, which left little room for clothing and other personal effects.
I rolled a suitcase over to my desk and lifted tubes of paint from the shelves. Gathering handfuls in my arms, I added as much as I could to the bag before collecting the paintbrushes from their racks.
“You can buy more art supplies,” he said in a nasty tone. “Pack something useful, and let’s go.”
I grabbed tubes of paint and brushes, adding them to my bag. “I can buy more clothes, but I can’t replace the memories I made with these brushes.”
The brushes I used to paint my first collection reminded me of Luca. He watched me paint the first piece in the Many Faces of the Devil series.
Luca was my Devil.
The Devil I Know.
The Devil I Crave.
The Devil I Hate.
The Devil I Fear.
I had yet to paint The Devil I Love.
After I zippered the last bag, Marcello grabbed my suitcases and barked orders as he headed downstairs. I followed behind his grumpy ass, stopping in front of my brother’s bedroom door. Separated by one and a half minutes, Aiden was my other half, the part of me that was missing. My brother said he had a plan. He said he knew what he was doing, but the Salvatores were smarter.