Why are you crying?
He's not going to stop until he knows, I realize. Also, if I don't tell him, he might come here to take me back, and I really don't need that. I wouldn't say no to his dick. Nobody in their right mind would, but the rest that comes with it? It's just too much right now.
Me:
It's nothing. Mom is overwrought because I'm not there.
Devil:
She's fine. We just had dinner. She's playing blackjack with Jack and Mario. She's having the time of her life.
A small smile escapes me. Those two have really grown on Mom. And Gabe? I have to admit, he knows what to say to pull a girl out of her funk.
Me:
Good night.
Devil:
Go to sleep, baby. You're safe. You're mine. Nothing changes that. Don't overthink tonight. Don't let whatever she told you get in your head. Sleep well, my little arsonist. I'll be the one you dream about.
Shit, I might have to change his name.
The mystery womandoesn't stop fighting. Not for a second. By the time we reach the Escalade, she's twisted halfway out of Damiano's grip, nails clawing, teeth bared like a feral animal. She only freezes when she sees Mauro and the kid by the Escalade.
"Can you stop texting and help me?" Damiano yells.
Fat chance of that happening, texting with Audra today has been my one saving grace.
"Let him go!" she snaps, jerking her head toward the kid. "He didn't do anything. What do you want?"
Damiano laughs like this is the best part of his day.
"What do we want?" he echoes, amused. "Bella, we're still figuring that out."
She lunges. Fast. Her teeth sink into Damiano's hand.
"Fuck—!" he jerks back, but she's already moving again, trying to shove the kid behind her, putting herself between him and us. Protective. Fierce. Stupid. I step in. One hand closes around her wrist, the other catches her chin before she can twist away again. "Enough."
The word lands. Quiet. Final. She freezes. She doesn't look scared, more calculating. Her eyes take me in; they're sharp, intelligent, and burning with something that isn't panic. Hatred.
Interesting.
That I understand.
Damiano cuffs her. She fights it the whole time. Kicking. Twisting. Spitting a string of curses that would make most grown men hesitate. Not us. Damiano gets the cuffs on eventually, forcing her hands behind her back. The kid clings to her the second she's pushed into the back seat, wrapping himself around her like he's trying to disappear into her.
She shifts immediately. Awkward with the cuffs. But instinctive. Turning her body to shield him.
"Don't touch him," she snaps again, breath coming fast now. "You hear me? Don't you fucking touch him."
No one answers. No one needs to. The door slams shut. I throw a glance at Damiano, the fucker is enjoying himself. Too much. The drive is quiet and takes almost an hour. The only sounds come from the kid as he's softly and unevenly breathing.
"It's okay," the girl whispers to him. "I've got you. Just stay quiet, okay? Don't say anything."
I watch her through the rearview mirror. Every movement. Every shift of her body. Every glance. What is her connection to the Collector? She doesn't look at me again. Not once. Like she's already decided I'm the enemy.
Good instincts.
