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Changing the locks or trying to keep my home mine wasn’t fixing my problems or keeping them away.
Once again, irritability consumed me for trying to help my father and Logan.
My thoughts became even more annoyed when I realized how foolish I’d been to go see Matteo. He could’ve killed me, or worse. He could’ve done anything he wanted to me, and I would have been at the mercy of whatever twisted desires he had.
But he let me go.
And for days, I’d been thinking about thewhyof it all. I sat here for hours on end contemplating all my life’s decisions where my father and brother were concerned… where Matteo was concerned.
And it was in the middle of the night that I realized I had to make a change for myself. I couldn’t stay in this shitty city any longer. I couldn’t risk being brought down even further.
I wanted to swim to the surface. I wanted to see the light for the first time in my life.
So with that plan in mind, I knew I had to leave Desolation. And I had to do it soon.
I finally said fuck them.
I was going to pack up my shit, take the meager amount of money I’d saved, and was going to leave.
So here I was, heading into the kitchen in the middle of the night with a smile on my face because I finally felt good for once in my life. I finally felt like I was doing whatIwas supposed to do.
I didn’t know when I’d leave, didn’t know how the outcome would play out. I just knew I would leave, and I’d do it as soon as humanly possible.
Drug addicts, pushers and dealers, and crime lords riddled this shitty town. And if you weren’t selling yourself on the street corner just to survive, you worked until your fingers bled and your eyes crossed.
If you weren’t lucky enough to get out, the other option to leave Desolation was to be buried, more than likely in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town because you fucked with the wrong person.
And that’s what was going to happen to my father and Logan. Sooner rather than later, they’d be nothing but memories of a shitty part of my life. And so, I had to get out to save myself because I’d be damned if I allowed anyone to bring me down with them.
I was just pissed that I had waited so long only to come to that realization. But I’d still tried to find happiness amidst an enormous pile of shit.
I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, turned on the faucet, and filled it up. The water tasted coppery, but it was all I knew and had gotten used to the flavor of blood filling my mouth.
I just stared down at the sink, the basin showing so much age. The faucet only worked half of the time. And the water took a few seconds to turn clear once the water ran.
It only took a second before I felt this tightening on my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I just knew… knew that I wasn’t alone.
I grabbed the dull butcher knife I kept in the top drawer and spun around, my heart already racing as I scanned the small, one room main living area.
At first, I saw nothing, but as my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I sucked in a quick breath when I saw a large body sitting on the single piece of furniture I owned.
The massive figure was clearly male. He sat in the dark on a chair pressed into the shadowed corner, the darkness shrouding him so I couldn’t clearly make out who he was. He was big, though, wearing all black; the night wrapped around him, as if it were familiar with the type of man he was.
It was only after a moment that Iknewwho sat in the seat before me, watching me, able to kill me before I even uttered a word.
Matteo.
For long moments, I couldn’t speak, my tongue too thick, my throat too dry and tight. My fingers were curled tightly around the hilt of the knife, painfully so.
I’d never actually hurt someone, never used a weapon for bodily harm ever in my life. And I didn’t know if I could start now, didn’t know if I could plunge this blade into Matteo if he came after me.
But he just sat there watching me, and although I couldn’t make out his expression, I could feel his penetrating gaze locked on me.
I heardthrump-thrump.Thrump-thrump. I looked down to see him tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. He slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and a swatch of the muted yellow street light that came through the living room window showed me his face.
My hand shook, my skin slippery from sweat, and before I knew it, the knife fell to the kitchen floor with a clatter.
All I heard was ringing in my ears. I knew without a doubt Matteo had come here to kill me. There was no other explanation why he was sitting in my living room in the middle of the night.
