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Cassius stays close to me with his hands on my shoulders, his bulk a solid, almost comforting, presence.
Griffin can barely put weight on his own feet but he glares at Salvatore through a fringe of bloodied hair. He knows what’s coming, but he’s not crying or begging for his life.
My future husband steps closer to Griffin and then, without warning, punches him in the gut. The boy would collapse if it weren’t for the other two holding him upright. Salvatore goes on punching the boy with both fists, a slow, methodical, and brutal beating all over his torso and face. I can’t look away. Every sickening crunch and groan pierces my mind.
Griffin vomits, blood and half-digested food spattering on the broken concrete. Vinicius and Lorenzo finally let him drop.
“Do you want to do the honors?” Vinicius asks Salvatore, drawing a gun out from the back of his pants and aiming it at Griffin’s head.
“Do whatever you want with him,” Salvatore mutters, massaging his bruised knuckles. “Just see that he ends up dead.”
Vinicius glances at me, as if asking for my opinion about what should become of my would-be rapist.
Then he smiles.
Vinicius is always charming, and so blindingly handsome that you couldn’t possibly believe that anything ugly or gruesome could ever happen because of him.
He pulls the trigger. The shot explodes in my ears and in Griffin’s skull. A hole is blasted out the back of his head and blood, bone fragments and slimy, scrambled-egg lumps spatter over the concrete.
I stare at the lumps until I realize it’s Griffin’s brains. A wave of nausea rolls up my body.
The night of my seventeenth birthday, I didn’t believe that Vinicius was dangerous, and I’m still being fooled by his angelic looks. All four of these men are violent devils with handsome faces, powerful bodies and tailored clothes. They warned me they were dangerous, but I didn’t believe them.
My priest once gave a sermon on how the devil himself can appear beautiful, for Lucifer was an angel before he fell from grace. Beauty is deceptive, and a handsome face can hide a multitude of horrors.
11
Salvatore
“Ah, I wasn’t done having fun.” Lorenzo pushes his bloodied fingers through his hair and smiles at the mess that was the Geak piece of shit.
Chiara is doubled over, her hands pressed against her knees as she struggles to control her breathing.
I glance at the other three, who have drawn together opposite Chiara and me. Them and us. I put my hand on Chiara’s back. “Say thank you to my former friends. It’s because of them you’re untouched.”
Chiara slowly pulls herself upright. She’s deathly pale and her eyes are hollow, but she suddenly looks furious. “Untouched?Untouched?Are you kidding me?”
“What are you talking about? What did that piece of shit do to you?”
“I’m talking about the night of my birthday and what yourfriendsdid then.”
Lorenzo laughs. “Quit whining. It’s not like you had anything shoved between your legs, princess.”
Chiara glares at Lorenzo, who smirks back.
“Fuck you,” she whispers at the blond man. “You never told him, did you?”
I stride forward and grab Lorenzo by the collar. “Told me what? What did you do to her?”
Lorenzo snatches his knife from inside his jacket and holds the pointy end against my ribs, growling, “Back off, pretty boy.”
I let go of him slowly, teeth grit, and turn to my future bride. “What’s he talking about?”
She nods at Vinicius. “He wasn’t too bad. He just kissed me and slid his hand up my leg. He was worse,” she adds, turning to Cassius. “He pulled my dress up and spanked me. Buthim.” Chiara gazes at Lorenzo with an expression full of loathing. “He tied my hands behind my back, pushed me against a wall and said disgusting things to me. Then he ripped my underwear off and shoved the hilt of his knife between my legs like he was going to…you know what.”
I go back to Chiara and put my hand on her shoulder, but she angrily shrugs me off.
“And you were just as bad! You choked me with your bare hands because I dared to talk back to you. I’m grateful I didn’t get raped with broken bottles and killed because my father put some gangsters in prison, but expressing gratitude to these three assholes sticks in my throat. And you know what? So does saying thank you to you, Salvatore.”
