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That shut her up.
Ava plunged the shovel into the earth and started making some progress on her gravesite. She whined and carried on, speaking to herself under her breath in Italian. Our names slipped past her lips as she cursed.
I didn’t care if she hated me.
Nicodemus gave her his sad puppy dog face, shaking his head whenever he looked at me. He felt bad for her. Even Angelo was unhappy with me and was usually down for a bit of mischief.
They were getting too soft.
I didn’t like it.
Over an hour passed before Ava finished making the world’s smallest grave. It was maybe three feet deep and five feet across, barely long enough to fit her petite body.
With the shovel in hand, she spun around to look at us. “Okay, so who are we burying?”
“No one yet.” I moved in front of the hole and crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re not done.”
“What do you mean?” Ava threw the shovel beside her and huffed. “I did what you asked of me.”
“Six feet is the standard depth of a grave. You have a few more feet to go.”
Her top lip quivered as she sucked in a deep breath. “But my arms hurt.” She took another deep breath. “I need my inhaler.”
Nicodemus knelt beside the grave and reached into his pocket. “I brought it for you.”
She took it from his hand with a scowl. Then she took a puff of the medicine, holding it for several seconds before blowing it out.
“That’s enough, Dante,” Stefan said with fire behind his words.
Furious, I pointed my finger at him. “Shut your mouth. She’s done when I say.”
“What is all this about?” Ava asked. “Who are you burying here?”
I snapped my head at her. “You.”
She inched backward, her eyes wide as she gazed up at us. “What? No.” Choking on her words, she breathed so hard that her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I didn’t do anything.”
“The fuck you didn’t.” I stood over the grave and folded my arms over my chest. “Where is your father?”
“I don’t know.” She swatted at the tears falling down her cheeks. “I’ve been trying to reach him for days. I left him voicemails, but he hasn’t returned any of my messages.”
Nicodemus had confirmed this earlier. So at least she was telling the truth.
I jumped into the hole with her, pressing her back to the dirt. “Why did he run?”
She tilted her head to the side, away from my face. I was too close for my comfort. My nose touched her cheek, and I hated the contact.
I wanted her to know I wasn’t fucking around, so I wrapped my fingers around her throat and forced her to look at me. “You have one chance to answer truthfully. If you answer incorrectly, you will die in this hole. And when I find your piece of shit father, I’ll throw his corpse on top of yours.”
She couldn’t breathe, so I loosened my grip, letting my hand fall to my side. Clutching her chest, she gasped for air. I couldn’t tell if this was an act.
Was it panic?
Her asthma?
After the show she put on at Nicodemus’s engagement dinner, I was convinced she was a better actress than she thought.
“Last chance, Miss Vianello. Why did your father run?”
