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Tears drip onto the duvet, soaking it in my sorrow, darkening it with the stains of my pain and regret. Luca is alive because my brother is dead. How is it that he gets to live when my brother lies in the soil? Logan’s sins could never compare to Luca’s. He made a mistake, and it cost him his life. Luca should be the one in the ground rotting, not him!
How did I not see this? How did I not put all the puzzle pieces together? Blinded by my love for Logan, I could not see the perfectly crystal-clear picture all my evidence created. So now my lasting legacy has been reduced to my parents dying in a freak plane accident, my brother murdered in a gang-related crime, and me dying to avenge what? Seeking justice for what? What is it I have been fighting for, if in the end, my brother was the same as the enemy I fought against?
Why Logan? Why? Why didn’t you just reach out to me? This isn’t who you were. Every memory, every moment that we shared together has been shattered and broken. Now they are replaced with the ones in the photographs of the man that I didn’t know.
The door creaks open. A shadow fills the space. I know it’s Luca by his sheer size. He stands there for a long moment before finally entering the room. Turning my head away, I can’t bear to look at him. The bed dips down beside me. He still hasn’t spoken. The silence speaks enough for us both.
When his hand reaches out and rests on my arm, I shove it away. “Get out!” I scream at him. He doesn’t move; he doesn’t speak. He just sits there. “Did you hear me?” I yell again and turn toward him. “I said get out! Leave me alone. My brother is dead because of you. It should’ve been you that died, not my brother. He was just a kid!” The words keep spilling out from my mouth in between sobs. The aching in my chest, it just won’t stop.
His sombre stare burns right through me. It tears and digs into my soul. I hate how I can see his pain, it is an eerie reflection of my own. I hate it. I hate him.
“Get out,” I bite out through my teeth.
“You're in my room.” That is his only answer, soft and sad, his voice an echo of my heart.
“Fine.” I stand from the bed. “I’ll go. I don’t even want to breathe in the same air as you. You make me sick.”
Hard warm arms wrap their weight around me and pull me to him. I try to fight it. I try to fight him. I kick, push, scratch, but he just squeezes tighter. “Let me go! Let me go!” I yell. But the more I struggle, the tighter he holds me.
“Shhh,” he whispers. The calm, emphatic sound is foreign coming from him. “Shhh.”
The sound of his tenderness soothes me, reduces me to jelly. All the fight leaves me as I crumble into his arms, into the arms of the monster.
Thirty-Two
Luca
As I sit on the bed holding Scarlet, her lightness seeps through me. It dulls the ache that has so long lived there.
I don’t know why I did it. I just did. There was an overbearing call to comfort her. It was a battle I was too weak to conquer. I could feel her pain in every tear, in every word, and it gutted me. Her loneliness beckoned me to hold her. I know all too well what it’s like to be alone.
Stroking her back with my hands, I hold her while she sobs into me. Her anger slowly subsides, and she relaxes into me. I’ve never seen someone so broken, so utterly broken.
Her headrests in the crook of my neck, her tear-soaked sweater dampening my t-shirt. Auburn waves of hair rest on my shoulder, smelling like sweet violets. Deeply inhaling her intoxicating scent, I savor the warmth and wonder of her.
With tear-soaked eyes, she lifts her head to look at me. Sadness is a living, breathing ghost that lives inside them. The loss of her innocence is evident with the dying flames that once burned bright in them. Her eyes close as I stroke the length of her cheek with the back of my hand.
Soft trembling lips taunt me as I fight back the need and the ever-present want to kiss her. “You didn’t know about my brother at first, did you?” she asks quietly, surprising me with her question.
I shake my head.
“You found out the day you tied me up. Didn’t you?” I don't have time to answer before she continues, “When you came back to untie me, I saw the change in your eyes.”
I nod. I don’t have to say anything else. She is right. That day I received a call from Nicolai. He had looked into her family as I had asked. You could have blown me over with a feather when Nicolai told me about her brother being a part of the Kastrati syndicate. A coincidence. Fuck no. Initially, I’ll admit, I did think the sheer chance of it was possible. It actually made more sense why she had printed her story and sold those photographs. She wanted to hurt the family that killed her brother. I respected her motives. Yet, seeing Scarlet's reaction today tells me she really didn’t know. The story she posted about my family came from her own pure need for justice and not that of revenge. Her craving for the truth to be revealed was one of passion for her career, not vengeance. That changes everything for me. However, I know for Nicolai, it changes nothing.
“Is it time?” She looks up at me with such understanding, such bravery that it cracks my walls, sending them crumbling to the ground. “Did you get your order?”
“Shh.” I stroke her face again. This time I can’t control myself. I have to taste her. I lean in slowly. Her eyes flicker with mirrored desire. The moment my lips touch hers, I have to use every ounce of self-control not to devour her. She tastes like the sun and the stars. Like the sweetest fucking wine, delicate and light and so full of life.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she opens her mouth slightly, inviting me in. Soft lips embrace mine, taking what I offer with welcome promise. Never have I experienced a kiss so tender, so intimate. Cupping her face in my hands, I tilt her head gently, kissing her deeper. Her tongue tangles with mine, no longer the captive. She frees herself with every stroke, every lick, every taste. Now it is me who is trapped—a willing prisoner to her every desire.
My skin tingles to life, feeling her hands trail up my arms and across my shoulders. Pushing her weight down on them, she lifts her leg over mine and straddles me. I look at her with hooded eyes, so full of hunger for her. Fire burns again in her hazel eyes, engulfing me. My little feisty redheaded vixen has come to life.
Grabbing her ass, I pull her closer to me, rubbing my hardened cock against her jeans. I want nothing more than to tear them off and be inside her, but I know I have to be slow and gentle with her.
Lips lash and tongues twine as we grind against one another with a precise rhythm. My hands explore her body, feeling the curve of her ass and the smoothness of her skin as I trail my hand under her sweater. Cupping her breast, I squeeze her nipple through the lace fabric, feeling her heat, her need.
Our kisses are unhurried, patient, and so full of passion. There is no place for the monster tonight in my bed. Tonight, I will be the man she wishes me to be. Tamed and tender. Tonight, I will make her dreams sweet so she can forget the nightmare that awaits.
