I swing once more, but it’s useless. He lies there, a bloodied, unrecognizable mess. Broken, crimson colored flesh spewing everywhere, leaving me breathless, tired, and dignified. I have dreamed of this moment for so long, the moment my fucking useless father would die at my hands. Now, I am just one step closer to my escape, or rather,our escape.
So close, mi reina, so close.
I toss the bat into the middle of the bloodied tarp, landing next to what once was Armando Moretti’s plump body, which is now an unrecognizable lump of dead flesh. But it’s not the thud of my nail-covered bat landing in the pool of blood that takes hold of my attention. I tense as the familiar sound of heels click on the cement floor. I’m not expecting Sienna to be here yet. I glance at my watch. I still have a good hour before she should be arriving.
I resist the urge to look at who is coming my way, though the echo is only intensified by this hollow warehouse, taking hold of my eardrums.
Panic grips me, stealing me from what should be such a blissful moment of exacted revenge. It’s not that I don’t want her to know what I have done, but seeing me like this—covered in blood, standing in glee over the corpse of my father—well, that may be a level of darkness that my little rag doll might not be prepared to embrace.Yet.
The distinct sound of high-heeled footsteps continues to echo. I turn around, running my blood-splattered hair out of my face to get a better look at who is coming.
Just as the hair escapes my eyes, I am met with a familiar face. One I was not expecting.
Shit.
The clicking stops just before the edge of the tarp.
“Hello, Carmine. Long time no see …”
Chapter37
Sienna
I remember the first time Papa showed me how to use a gun. Mama begged him not to, she hated guns and saw no need for a girl to be in possession of one. However, my father couldn’t have disagreed with her more. He was adamant that if nothing else, I knew how to use a gun properly. I never questioned him because, even at a young age, I knew that what he was showing me would someday come in handy.
Most of my friend’s fathers emphasized self-defense classes or carrying pepper spray, while my father emphasized violence under the guise of protection. I knew my father was preparing me for a potential war.
He knew the constant threat of danger that lurked amongst us. Given our family name, he felt it important to not fill my head with silly fairytales. I swear, the cynical realism my father poured into me from a young age must be where I got my strong love for all things spooky. When you learn that more of life happens in the shadows than in the light, you tend to flock to what lives in the darkness more.
Now, as I drive outside the city limits to whatever undisclosed location Carmine told Eric to take me to, I am especially thankful for that first lesson at the ripe age of twelve. Because today feels like the day I was meant to prepare for.
Eric turns down an unmarked street and through a dense patch of hanging trees, a long gravel road reveals itself. I peer out the window to try to determine where the hell we are, but all I see ahead in the distance is what looks to be an abandoned building made of half-decaying brick. As we drive closer on the bumpy gravel, it appears to be an old warehouse.
Wonderful.
The car makes an abrupt stop as Eric parks it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He reaches for his phone, not realizing there is not even one bar of service in whatever hellhole we drove up to.
“Shit, alright, Boss said to give him a shout when we got here, but I have no service,” he says.
“Yeah, me neither. Guess that’s common when you drive away from civilization,” I say, getting myself out of the car.
Eric shrugs before he runs around to meet me, more antsy than usual.
“You good, Eric?” I ask, but before he can answer, we both are distracted by what appears to be two people shouting. I grab my purse and feel for the pistol still in the front pocket, debating if I need to reach for it now.
There is an altercation going on inside between a man and woman, from the sounds of it. I look at Eric and we both head inside toward whatever quarrel is going on.
The door to the warehouse is wide open, making the echoing of the voices sound even louder. As we make our way into the huge, two-story open space, I first see a woman with her back facing Eric and me.
“I told you I wanted to be the one to handle it. I wanted him to feel just an ounce of the pain he has caused!” the woman shouts.
It’s then that I notice, smack in the middle of the large open space, a curtained-off area. My eye first scans the tops of the curtains, which are hung by what looks to be a metal frame. The material of the thick curtains looks just like The Sandy Claws.My eyes travel down the tall curtains, and I notice red liquid pooling out onto what looks to be a large plastic tarp. My stomach turns at the sight, knowing that Carmine must behind the drawn curtains, doing God knows what.
I walk closer, curiosity overcoming me. The woman mumbles something to herself, clearly aware of mine and Eric’s presence. Then, as she turns around to face us, my stomach drops.
“Titi Lana?” I ask, confused, as she stands there with pleading eyes.
It can’t be.What the hell is she doing here?
