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Scrunching up the photo, I tossed it back into the drawer and fell down onto my bed. There was a knock on the door, and I yelled to come in. It was most likely Poppy. She couldn’t sleep usually and needed to sleep with me. Her parents dumped her here a year after I was. She didn’t know anything about her parents. No one here did.
I opened my door and paused when I saw Henry standing on the other side. Henry and I weren’t friends, yet somehow he always managed to be the person delivering news to me. “Nine-oh-two.” I banged my head back on the door and watched as he moved back through the corridor. Henry was older than the rest of us, but he reminded me of a teacher’s pet. Always so fucking eager to do anything for Skully. But then… so was I.
I reached behind the door and grabbed my machete, flipping my hoodie over my head. After closing my door, I made my way down, counting the numbers on each door in passing. Eighty-seven… I let the sharp tip of the machete scratch the walls as I walked down, counting the numbers beneath my breath.
902.
Shoving open the door, I saw the body tucked beneath the blankets, chest rising and falling. Perfect. I didn’t have to look at this one. Stepping in, I directed the tip of my knife above the shoulder and cut the vein that pulsed on the side of the neck.Blood flowed out of the incision neatly, and I tilted my head. Henry spilled in behind me, yanking the blanket off and looking down at the blood-soaked body.
It was a girl. Young. I didn’t like doing the girls. I didn’t like doing any of them, but mostly the girls.
Henry fell onto the bed, his head bowed. When her head fell to the side, I saw it was Delany, Henry’s sister.
“I didn’t—” I say.
Henry shook his head, clenching his jaw. “Just leave.” Neither of us knew who was in what room. Skully rotated them every two nights and it was always a case of Russian roulette.
“Fuck.” I slid down the wall, drawing my legs up to my chest. This was going to give Henry even more of a reason to fucking hate me.
I’m not like other girls. I’ve never thought much about my wedding day. It would happen because I am Papa’s only child and he most definitely would shove me down the aisle to marry whatever gives the Cosa Nostra power.
In this case, it is an alliance with our enemy, because whether Papa likes to admit it or not, the peace between our two families means more than the way it looks to our joined enemies.
“Hey, baby!” Betty enters behind me, putting Wolf to the floor as he runs his little feet across the room and jumps up on my lap.
“You look pretty, Mama!” His little hand rests on the side of my face, and I search his eyes, circling his cheek with my thumb.
“Thank you, baby boy.” My eyes flick up to Betty, who is standing there with raised brows. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”
“Well, look!” She raises her hands in the air. “I’m just saying, I’m against this. What happened after Wicked swooped in and did Prince Charming with you?”
I shake my head, rocking back and forward on the rocking chair, my mind lost on the lace dress pooling around my thighs. “Nothing. He refuses to let me into whatever he is keeping from me.”
“Did he say anything about old man psycho who used to drug you in your bed as a child being the same person who he calls Skully?”
I place Wolf on the floor and he runs back to Betty. “No. I didn’t say anything to him after I blurted it out in a drug haze.”
Betty scoops up Wolf. “Mmhm. Well, you’re a better woman than me, but we already know this.”
I stand from the chair, brushing my hair over my shoulder and turning to face Betty. “You do look beautiful. So sad I won’t be there.”
“I don’t want either of you in the firing line if anything happens.”
“I know.” She closes the distance between us, bringing her hands to my shoulders. “I just wish I was there, you know. I always figured I’d be your maid of honor.”
I squeeze her hand. “Not this time.”
She breezes toward the door. “I’ll text you when we get to the clubhouse, and let’s hope I don’t kill any of these boys in leather.”
The door closes just as I yell out, “Be nice!” We all know that she won’t.
Gathering up the rest of my things, I roll the garter up my thigh, and check myself one last time in the mirror.
The altar is too long and the church too white. Too religious. I feel like an atheist whose skin is burning with every step that Itake to the end. I let Mik take my hand as we exchange vows, and I purposely ignore all of the leather that is standing in the back room.
We say I do.
He walks me back down the aisle, and Papa smiles at me with pride. Too much pride…
