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“The devil,” I repeat. “Father, you knew who I was from the moment I said my name. Are you sure he’s in her? Because last I checked, I was the only monster to grace this building.” His jaw hangs open. “Until now, because surely a man of the cloth couldn’t hurt such a pretty little thing.”
“What do you want, Mr. Cardarelli?” The man on the floor begins to stand.
“What did you say your name was again?” Unwrapping the strap from my arm, I toss it aside, out of reach.
“Albert. Albert Liani.”
“Ah yes, the man who is friends with Carlo Morello. Only, Carlo spit your name out of his mouth like a foul piece of fish.” I see him swallow roughly from the corner of my eye. My focus is on Cassio, and my body is hyperaware of the girl at my feet. “So, tell me again, who are you, Liani?”
He looks to the priest for help, but Cassio can’t do anything. No one in this church can. No one here is worth saving.
Except her.
The girl in the white dress, flowers in her hair, and innocence in her eyes.
Reaching behind me, I drag my shirt over my head and take it off. I unlock the chains around her wrist, and they clatter to the ground. “Can you stand?” I tip her chin up with a finger. The impulse to gaze at her nudity hits me with surprising force. This girl, whoever she is, is impacting my body in a way I don’t know if I like. I’ve never had this issue on a job before.
“I…I think so.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it washes over me like rain on a sunny day.
Pulling my shirt over her head as she climbs to her feet, I shove the white dress the rest of the way down her body. My shirt hangs on her like a dress of its own, hitting her just above the knees. Something stirs in my chest when she gazes up at me with this look of shame and surprise. Ignoring it, I glare over at the priest. The holy man. The man who believes in a higher power that should be protecting a woman like this and not subjecting her to misery.
“Well, Father Cassio, since I’m the one who proudly does the devil’s work, what’s my punishment? What are you and your horde going to inflict upon me?” The girl at my side moves closer, gripping my wrist tightly with both hands.
“You don’t want that,” she whispers, the heat from her body seeping into me.
“Oh,dolce, I want everything they’ve ever done to you.”What the fuck is she doing to me?I don’t give pet names. Let alone to a woman I don’t even know. Staring down at her, at her plain dark hair that seems fuller because of the waves, at her dull but somehow vibrant green-as-grass eyes, she’s nothing spectacular to look at. She’s rather…boring. But this need I have to protect her won’t shake.
To claim her.
Christ.
Fury races through my blood as I search her eyes and witness real fear…for me. She’s afraid these assholes will do to me what they did to her. That they’ll stand a chance of actually hurting me.
She has no idea.
“What’s your name,dolce?” Brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, I’m surprised at how soft it is and take an extra second to rub it between my fingers. Her eyes flick to the priest for permission, and it pisses me off further. “Don’t look to him for anything,” I growl, dipping my chin to meet her eyes. I’m feeling slightly wild and off-kilter.
“Isabel.” I lift a brow when she doesn’t expand on that with a last name. She only shakes her head.
“How old are you, Isabel?” Her name rolls off my tongue with ease. I step in front of her and grip her chin when she’s about to look to Cassio again. “He’s not your master. You need one of those, you look to me.”Where in the fuck did that come from?
Her throat works hard to swallow as tears pool in her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Move, and I’ll slice you open,” I hiss at Albert when I see him starting to back away from my growing anger. Dragging the dagger from its sheath at my back, I whip it around and settle it against the father’s throat, tipping his chin as I nick a piece of flesh and a drop of blood settles on the surface. “Sister, can I ask that you retrieve Isabel’s paperwork and bring out any other children you have locked away.”
The short nun scurries off to do as I ask while the larger one stares open-mouthed at Cassio. “There are no other children. I’m the last,” Isabel tries to whisper in my ear, but even on her tiptoes, she’s too short.
“When was the last child sold, Father Cassio?” I seem to have rendered him mute. “Father!” I shout, and his eyes clear. “When was the last child sold?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The fact he can say that with a straight face is infuriating.
“Yes, you do. And I know you do because a friend recently took back her granddaughter when you stole her from the new mother. I know far more than you would like, and there isn’t a whole hell of a lot you can do about what happens next except tell me the truth.”
* * *
Isabel
This imposing man with ink drawings covering his body is both fascinating and terrifying. I’ve never come across anyone who would stand up to Father Cassio or Sisters Jeanne and Hildegard. They’ve always seemed like unmovable forces to me. I’ve never witnessed any of them show fear, but they do with this man. This devil’s advocate, and I’m enthralled.
