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So why couldn’t I touch it?
I heard loud breathing behind me, and a shiver rolled down my back. The hair on my arms and neck stood at attention. As I turned my head to the side, fear rocked through me when my eyes landed on four tall men with broad shoulders. My mouth dropped in horror at the sight of the paint on their faces, one half covered in snakeskin. The tallest of the group had golden scales branding his tanned skin. He looked like a copperhead snake, poisonous and deadly.
But so were his friends.
All of them had tattoos on their necks and hands. They wore black hoodies and fitted jeans, the right side of their faces obscured by the paint. A man with white-blond hair raised his tattooed hand to his jaw. He painted his pale skin yellow with white chevrons like a king cobra.
The man on his left had the greenish-yellow hue of a pit viper. They were all terrifying, but the last man was pure evil. His scales were dark brown, and when he opened his mouth, I gasped at his black tongue.
A black mamba.
What the fuck?
He stood in front of the others, the obvious leader of The Serpents.
“Give him back to me,” I shouted.
The black mamba opened his mouth. But before he could reply, my vision blurred, and someone shook my shoulder so hard it snapped me back to reality.
“Alex, wake the fuck up.”
My eyes shot open at the sound of Marcello’s deep voice. He held onto my shoulder, sitting at the edge of my bed. Concern scrolled across his face. I attempted to speak, but my mouth was so dry my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I closed my eyes for a moment and sucked in a deep breath.
Maybe he’s not real.
Maybe it’s all a dream.
“Look at me.” Marcello slid his hand beneath my chin and squeezed, forcing my eyes open. “How long has this been going on?”
“What?” I choked out.
“Night terrors. You’ve had them since your first night here. They’re getting worse.”
I blew out a deep breath and shoved his hand away from my face. “Don’t pretend you care about me, Marcello. You’re the one who locked me in this room. I only have you and Luca to blame.”
He glared at me, resting his hand on the top of the headboard.
“Aiden trusted you,” I said with venom in my tone. “He got his information about The Serpents from you. I told him you were all fucking snakes, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
Marcello’s jaw ticked. “Enough.”
For years, I had woken up from the same horrific dreams. The dark closet. My mother and her slow, agonizing torture.
Aiden had slept beside me most nights when we were kids to help quell them. He would always rock me back to sleep and hold my hand to stop the shakes. When we left for college, the dreams stopped. The distance from my parents kept them at bay. But after Aiden disappeared, the pain came flooding back. His loss had unlocked a part of my mind that held all of my worst memories.
All of my fears.
Then the nightmares about The Serpents started. If anyone could find Aiden, it was The Serpents. So every night, my subconscious revisited their hiding place—The River Styx.
Marcello grabbed a tray from the table by the window. He set the coffee and a plate of toast in front of me. My stomach rumbled as I looked down at the butter and strawberry preserves beside the toast. The Salvatores knew everything about me.
Now, they were even aware of my nightmares. I’d never mentioned them to Luca. Not like it was his business. He’d never stayed through the night to find out.
I sat up and hooked my finger through the cup’s handle, lifting it from the saucer. “Is this a peace offering?”
Marcello ignored my question, his hands on his hips as he watched me eat. I slurped the liquid down, my stomach rumbling, and shoved a piece of toast into my mouth. An explosion of flavor spread across my tongue as I chewed and swallowed the bread in one gulp.
Eyes on me, Marcello sat in the armchair with a black wingtip on his knee. We sat in silence, which suited me fine. He didn’t speak, and I had nothing to say to his grumpy ass, not after he locked me in my bedroom.
After I finished eating, he got up from the chair and moved the tray to the writing desk. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
Marcello lifted me in his arms, like I was a damn baby, crushing me against his chest.
“I can walk,” I protested. “You don’t have to carry me.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard me, focused on the door he shoved open with his foot. We entered the ensuite bathroom, and he set my feet down on the cold tiled floor. He tipped his head toward the toilet with an annoyed look plastered on his face.
