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Chapter Eleven – Giselle
I could’ve waited, I supposed, but I think I needed this. I could not get my hands on Miguel yet—I wanted his downfall to be a slow and painful one—so this was the next best thing. I could not have Miguel yet, but I could have Rocco.
I sat in the first pew on the right side of the church, closest to the altar. I wore all black, a small black scarf around my neck, beneath my dyed hair. Even a cute little hat. I’d be the first to admit I did not look like myself at all. Couldn’t be too careful, since this was the first time I’d been back in Cypress since my staged kidnapping.
The one thing I did not wear were gloves. I’d hidden behind gloves for so long; it was time to stand tall without them, to do this without them. What I did bring with me, on the other hand, was a reminder of what I’d lost, something that saddened me at first… and then helped make me furious.
Father Charlie’s cross. It hung around my neck, the only splash of color on me, its golden, bejeweled points above my chest. I reached for it, grabbed it as I stared at the statue of Jesus Christ behind the altar. Its cold metal grounded me.
Father Charlie was my dad, and I’d lost him before I knew the truth. If I could rewind time, if I could go back, I’d change everything. Everything. I would get answers to questions I otherwise couldn’t. With both him and my mother dead, I was alone.
As Rocco stirred, groaning as he slowly came to, I knew that wasn’t quite true.
I wasn’t alone. I had Ezekiel. I had Damian and Luca and Cade. I even had Zander, though I was still pretty pissed at him for what he did. All that meant I was not as alone as I felt. I had people who’d stand by me, men who cared for me… who might even love me—and that was a strange twist of fate if I ever heard one.
The girl who wanted to die now wanted anything but.
Rocco was in the other pew on the opposite side of the aisle. His figure was slumped over in the pew, and the wood creaked beneath him when he slowly sat up and groaned. I did not stare at him. I stared straight ahead, at the big cross, doing something I hadn’t done in a long, long time.
I prayed. I prayed for my true father’s God to forgive me for what I was about to do.
“What the…” Rocco labored to stand, and he swayed on his feet somewhat as he stumbled out of the pew and into the aisle. He didn’t look at me, though he did check out his surroundings once before shuffling to the main doors.
Once he reached them, he tried to push out into the night, but the doors were locked and he couldn’t jiggle them open. “What the hell is going on here?” If I had to guess, I’d say he was searching for his phone now—his phone that he would not find, of course.
I heard his footsteps slogging down the aisle, could practically imagine him pointing at me in fury as he said, “You. Give me your phone.” When I did not say a word, he added, “We’re locked inside this fucking church.”
The church’s lights were off. The only thing that lit the area were the candles. A beautiful, eerie orange glow was all that flickered in the space. I supposed that was why, as Rocco reached my pew, he did not immediately recognize me.
Or maybe it was the hair. Maybe I really did look different with black hair.
“Hello? I’m fucking talking to you—”
“I hope you made peace with the things you’ve done in your life, because you’re never getting out of this church,” I whispered, slow to stand. I must’ve caught him off-guard, because he stared slack-jawed at me as I pulled off my scarf and my hat. I set them on the bench before bringing my gaze to his.
The look he gave me told me everything. It made me smile.
“What?” I asked. “Don’t recognize me with black hair? Rocco, I’m hurt. And here I thought that night we spent together meant more to you. Oh, wait, that’s right. You’re a cold-hearted bastard who doesn’t give a shit about who he hurts and what lives he destroys.”
Finally, finally, the man whispered my name: “Giselle. What the fuck are you doing here? Is this all your doing?” He scoffed. “I fucking knew it. I told Miguel we should’ve killed you ourselves, but for some goddamned reason, he needed to hand you off to those Serpents.” The way those black eyes of his hardened as he sized me up made my blood boil. “Looks like you whored yourself out to the right man.”
I smiled at him. “You know, there was a time when that might’ve stung, but I’m not the same girl you raped for hours and hours. I don’t care what you say. You don’t scare me anymore, Rocco.”
He took a step toward me, into the pew with me. “That’s a mistake, girl, because I could overpower you based on strength any day of the fucking week.”
A good ten feet was still between us, so I held strong. He would not intimidate me. “That’s the thing about people who have nothing to lose: threats don’t work on them. I don’t care what you say, Rocco, because none of it matters. All your huffing and puffing: it’s hot air to me. It doesn’t affect me in the slightest.”
Rocco’s chest shuddered with a sick laugh. “See? That’s how I know you’re lying, Giselle. I can see it on your face—”
He took another step towards me, so laser-focused on me he did not realize we weren’t alone in the church, that someone else had come out and grabbed the processional cross. That same person was now creeping towards him from behind, ready to be my backup.
“—you’re still scared. You’re nothing but a pathetic little girl, in over her head, born to the wrong man. You might’ve spread those legs for those Serpents, but they’ll get tired of you, and when they do, you’ll realize you’re nobody. A small fish in a sea of sharks. You don’t belong here, and you know it.”
“You see?” I flashed him a smile. “You’re wrong. I’m no fish in a sea of sharks. I’m on land, Rocco, where you can’t hope to follow me, and this face? This face is the face of the girl who’s going to kill you. Memorize it while you can.”
“You little—” Whatever else Rocco was going to say, he didn’t get the chance, because Ezekiel swung the cross against the back of his head. A hard thud filled the air, and Rocco’s body crumpled immediately, slumping to the floor and hitting the edge of the wooden pew on the way down.
I looked at Ezekiel, and the man shrugged and said, “I did not like the way he was approaching you, nor the way he was speaking to you.”
