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21
Evelyn
Iopen my eyes, but see nothing.
For a split second, relief washes over me.
It was all just some nightmarish fever dream … and then I realize I can’t move.
My breathing quickens as I try to move my arms and legs, but to no avail.
I can’t see. I can’t move.
What’s happened to me? Where am I?
I start to hyperventilate even as I try to calm myself down. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, not that at it matters, I try to think back to the last thing I remember.
I was driving.
I was escaping back to the city, and Luci caught up to me just before I was suddenly blinded by bright lights as I tried to keep the SUV on the road.
Then the next thing I knew, I felt like I’d been thrown into a tumble drier full of glass and metal. I frown as I try to sort through the confusing, blurry mess of happened next.
I swallow and grimace in pain.
The seatbelt! It was cutting into my neck as I hung upside down, the blood rushing to my head as I faded in and out of consciousness. There was so much blood, and then the horrible sound of tearing metal … and then the last thing I remember seeing was a pair of shoes.
A shiny black pair of shoes.
Whose shoes?
Did Luci pull me from the wreckage? Am I back in their underground lair?
Images of the mansion burning against the twilight sky suddenly fill my mind. And Luci, I remember hearing the sound of another car crash just before mine.
Are they all dead?
If so, who found me? Am I even still alive?
Maybe this is some sort of purgatory for people who kill killers. It would be my fault if they were all dead, wouldn’t it?
I can feel myself starting to spiral as a small sob escapes me.
“Ah, good, you’re finally conscious.”
I open my eyes and have to squint. Light floods the room, automatic blackout curtains lifting to reveal floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city from an even greater height than Dante’s penthouse.
I’m positioned upright, and what appears to be a luxurious, modern bedroom from what I can see of the room.
“What?” I ask, the word slipping from my mouth before I even know what I’m trying to ask.
A tall, silver-haired man slowly turns to look at me as he swirls dark liquid in a glass. He’s wearing a black silk robe left open over a naked torso and pair of silk pants.
I try not to stare, but I’m honestly shocked by how beautiful what I can see of his body is. He may be Dante’s father, but he certainly doesn’t look it. If I didn’t already know who he was and that he was alive, I’d almost swear we was chiseled from marble.
Despite his state of undress, or perhaps made even clearer by it, there’s no mistaking who this man is.
“Welcome home, Evi,” Valentine drawls, downing the liquid before setting the glass down on a nearby table. “How do you feel?”
