The ride between us is quiet as he takes the wheel, and I eventually stare off into the distance.
My clothes will have to be burned, as will all the other evidence.
Ashton glances at me as we reach the house. “You’re one hell of a sight. Try to sneak inside and go shower before anyone notices.”
I glance down at my hands. My knuckles are covered in dried blood. My shirt is gross, and I haven’t so much as looked at my reflection in the mirror. It can’t be good.
Ashton parks in the garage around back, and I hurry in through the side entrance of the house. I leave my shoes by the door, as if that’s the worst thing I’m bringing inside.
I have to walk the long corridor to head upstairs to shower.
I try my damndest to be quiet, but Harper somehow catches sight as I walk by the playroom.
“Luca?”
I freeze, doing my best not to move. Worried that if I turn around and face her, she’ll see all the crimson staining my skin.
She’s swift, jumping the baby gate, which was helpful when Zeke was smaller, but he’s learned to climb it by watching Harper.
Hopefully, he won’t try that right now.
I hide along the other side of the wall, making her step fully out into the corridor to see me.
Harper’s eyes widen, her breath catches in her throat, and she runs her fingers over my cheek and down my chest. “Are you … hurt?”
“It’s not my blood.” I shake my head, trying to ease her of any and all concerns.
Her brow is pinched as she stares up into my gaze.
“I’m fine. I just … let me go shower. We can talk after.”
I pull away from her, not wanting her to be covered in Massimo’s blood as I retreat for the stairs.
Dante’s office door swings open and he steps out, glancing me over. “Luca. After you clean up, I’d like a word.”
“Of course.” I expected nothing less. I’m sure he wants to be caught up on the situation and the news about Massimo.
I head upstairs for the shower, and now I’m beginning to understand why the floor is marble. Perhaps it’s to keep blood from staining it.
I step into the bathroom, grimacing at the splatter of blood covering my cheeks. I strip down. My clothes are going to end up in the trash, no sense in trying to remove the gore caked to the cloth. I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat before I step under the spray and rinse away the death and filth that covers me.
There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door.
“It’s occupied!” Does the sound of running water not make it clear that someone is in here already?
A small gust of cold air hits me, and I turn the shower hotter.
“It’s me,” Harper’s voice fills the small space of the bathroom.
“I’ll be done soon.”
I scrub at the blood that I can see—on my hands, knuckles, beneath my fingernails. I shove my face under the spray and rub at it, hoping to remove any trace remnants down the drain.
“I stole something today.”
Harper’s soft voice catches me by surprise. I pull back the shower curtain and glance at her. “What’d you steal?” I can’t imagine Harper ever doing anything illegal or bad.
She’s practically a saint compared to me.
