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“I’m doing a nightly workout. I haven’t seen Rory,” I lied easily.
“And your workout led you into my garden?”
“I wasn’t aware that I wasn’t allowed on your premises.”
He moved closer. I had half a mind to show him Rory’s ripped panties. I was fucking tired of his obvious aversion to me being around her. Sure, I was bad news, but that didn’t mean I had any intention to hurt Rory.
“I don’t care if you’re on my premises, but it’s strange to find you here when I can’t find Aurora anywhere.”
“Dad?” Rory called from the patio.
“See, your daughter is safe and sound.”
Fabiano glanced between Aurora and me.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to do my workout now,” I said sarcastically.
Fabiano gave a terse nod before he headed toward Aurora, probably on a mission to interrogate her. As expected, Aurora ignored me, but her flushed face made up for her lack of acknowledgment.
I headed toward the pool for an unplanned swim exercise, which would also serve as a cool-off after another encounter with Rory that left me with a case of blue balls.
Rory thought I’d lose interest once I’d fucked her, but every encounter with her only left me hungry for more. Rory wanted more; she wanted parts of me that I didn’t want to share with anyone, but I wondered if maybe we actually had a chance if I tried hard enough. Maybe following my demons was really just me choosing the easy way.
Alessio came to the pool when I did my last lap and squatted beside the edge, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Massimo and I are wondering when you want to head out tonight.”
“I think I’ll pass tonight.”
Alessio raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t go on raids for two nights because business kept us busy, and you want to go without for another night?”
I swam toward him. “You sound as if I’m addicted to it.”
“Your actions indicate you are. You are addicted to the highs it gives you. The thrill of the hunt and the torture is your drug.”
“I’m not a fucking pussy. I can control my urges. They don’t control me.”
“That’s probably a phrase an addict would say,” Alessio said. He pushed to his feet and stomped his cigarette out with his steel-tipped boot. Admittedly, seeing the shoes he always wore during our raids made me eager for the hunt.
“Is this your attempt to better yourself for Aurora. If so, kudos to you for even trying.”
His tone made it clear I wouldn’t succeed.
I sat up with a hoarse roar, sweat covered and with my knife clutched in my fist. Where was I? I shoved to my feet and turned on the light, searching my surroundings for signs of the horrid scene I saw playing out mere moments before.
My room wasn’t covered in blood, not a single droplet. I ran a hand through my damp hair, my heart slamming into my rib cage.
“Fuck,” I breathed out and stared down at my hands, turning them around. Of course, they weren’t stained in blood and neither was my knife, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine they were. I’d lost count of the times my skin had been sticky with blood. But the image of Aurora’s and Battista’s blood hit differently.
A knock sounded, and a second later, Dad poked his head in, a look of weariness on his face. “I heard your scream.”
Had I roared that loudly? Fuck. What a goddamn nightmare. I didn’t believe in premonitions. If a fortune teller tried to tell me my future, I’d end theirs. Still, I couldn’t stop staring at my hands.
“Nevio?” Dad asked as he stepped into the room. He too was holding a knife in hand. My scream must have really worried him.
I shook myself and gave Dad a twisted smile. “I guess all the killings are getting to me.”
Dad came toward me. “You’re pale. Do you need me to pull you from your current tasks?”
It had been a while since Dad hadn’t looked at me with anger in his eyes. His honest concern was a nice surprise. Of course, I was fucking undeserving of it, considering the nature of my dream.
