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“If she dies, it is not just those deaths, Arlo. Can’t you see,Iwill be next? Followed byyou, Viktor, Ilias, and even Davina,” I spat callously. “We will be picked one by one, faster than Salvatore’s illness takes him.” Placing my guns roughly into their holsters, I sneered. “I fucking know the effect of every move and possibility. That’s why I don’t barge into rooms.” I point to the door he’d entered. “Why, I think before I act. Because I think about all of you fuckers! Even a damn Vitelli.”
I stood in front of him, outraged. “So don’t question me, Arlo. Instead, do what you do best, and fix the problem. Find a bastard to punish if that’s what you need and return to the underbossIneed.”
Arlo’s lips curled.
“I count on you to see danger as your playground, so why are you so unraveled now?”
“Because, as your head of safety, you are not listening to my advice!”
“Watch your tone, Arlo.” Our eyes fought.
“You will get her killed.”
My demon won.
Arlo didn’t flinch, but his head reared to the right with the force of my fist. His eyes closed briefly before they cut mine, and I challenged them.
The corner of his brow dripped with blood, and while most believed him to be a devil, he was just a mere human who bled. He, too, needed the reminder.
He touched his split skin with a conflicting smile and brought his fingers together in front of him, watching the violet-red liquid smear messily between his fingertips.
“That was for yesterday. Touch her again, or go against my orders and…” My jaw clenched. I couldn't bring myself to threaten him out loud.
And I detested myself for feeling the division he created inside me.
Damn him.
Arlo wasthe first human I’d spoken to after months of silence. The home for boys didn’t question it, and the home didn't bother to take their time with the new kid. In those months and years of mental and physical abuse, I cherished my years of freedom. I didn’t miss the childhood I spent running and looking over my shoulder. The years of cold nights and stomach hunger pains. I missed the miserable freedom I knew. Because inside the cruel and low-funded institute of the forgotten, we were treated like pesticides, and out in the world, I at least had my mother.
I’d waited for her return like a wounded animal, staring out every window that faced the spot I’d last seen her walking away from me. But she never came back, and I turned toward the pain given by the warden. At least then, I knew I feltsomething. But Arlo didn’t know what existed outside the stone walls. He didn’t recognize the leery and longing eyes that were not normal. That pain wasn’t the only feeling we were capable of.
Soft cries greeted me as I stepped into my room. There were six of us. Cramped in spring cots and stained sheets that were only changed when men in suits came in. Shiny shoes, clipboards, and wrinkled noses. No one looked you in the eye.
I was the last one who had been granted a shower. The only one who didn’t fear stepping into the creeping hallways at night. Us six were around the same age, but the seventh kid who didn’t belong in our bunk appeared younger. He was capable of hiding from sight by his small frame in the dark corner.
Five pairs of eyes watched my every move, the whites of their eyes shining as bright as the moon, calculating. Waging. We weren’t close, and they knew better than to speak to me.
I stood above the young boy, and his soft cries hushed.
“How old are you?” My voice cracked.
Surprised by its tone and hearing my voice again, I sat next to his curled body. The cool stone felt pleasant against my back. This place seemed to always be too hot inside. Even with the windows cracked at night, the breeze reminded me of hell whispers. Fitting.
I stretched my long legs over the dusty floor and waited.
“Twelve,” he whispered, but I noticed how he questioned it.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I regret not using the glass to end it instead.”
What? I peered over at him, questioning his words. The boy stirred lightly and so quietly that it wasn’t until I met his red-rimmed eyes that I realized he’d moved to stare at me.
He was odd. His speech, his aura, his mind.
“We don’t have an extra cot.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
