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Only, she hasn't a clue.
Boys around her ogle what’s mine. Ours. The Devil's property. Like she's their next meal. Greedy douchebags. I want to pluck their eyeballs from their sockets. I take a deep breath, settling the anger festering beneath my skin. That's why I'm here, to sort them out and show them their place in Journey's life. Nowhere.
They’re all sporting masks to celebrate the holiday—the annual Briar Cove Masked-Up Celebration for all outgoing seniors of Briar Cove Public.
Come one. Come all. Hide your identities and party like you've never partied before behind an anonymous mask as one last hurrah.
It's the one night everyone is allowed to put a mask over their faces and lose themselves to debauchery without consequence. My eyes narrow when their attention is on her, the lonely dancer in the middle of the dance floor, pushing everyone else away.
She swivels seductively again, surveying the room. Her hands roam through her wild, brown curls as she turns circles. She is a lost sailor at sea, drowning in the ocean of people.
We're the lifeboats, ready to save her. And then keep her.
"I'm with him! We can all share." Arrow steps forward, his eyes lasering in on our girl through the window. "Sharing is caring, Sheppy boy. And I need her more than I need orange juice." He grins widely, showing off his pearly whites.
Orange juice? I sigh. It's his favorite drink after a night of work when blood spills and hearts stop. No clue why. Or how the tradition got started.
Most men our age—twenty-one—would have a glass of bourbon, reminiscing about the night's activities. But not Arrow. Not with how he got his start at fifteen, curbing his bloodlust with my father, murdering traitors, and taking out the trash. That's when the tradition started. He'd come home to the mansion covered in blood and sit at the kitchen island with his favorite snack as my father praised his efforts.
Gabriel Viotto knew how to mold psychopaths. We're living proof of it.
Especially Arrow, who was born in the shadows. The bastard child of a Catholic Priest, who loved Arrow but knew he could never provide for him and stay in his position at the church. He had no wife, only a mistress who fled the moment Arrow was born, leaving him on the doorstep of Briar Cove Catholic Church. The Priest tried to keep him concealed, raising him secretly, but failed miserably with all the trouble Arrow got into. Finally, at six, he handed Arrow over to my father; the rest is history.
But I digress.
Our girl has no idea we've been watching for so long.
We, the three Devils, see everything and everyone. We're in the damn wind, watching and waiting with patience. Especially for her. Our future. The woman we hunt in the dark, following her whenever possible. She's ours. And no one can take her away from us.
Not even herself.
She can run and hide if she wants to, but we'll always find her.
‘So, you're really giving up your promise?’ Shepp signs again with worry on his silent face.
"Would you keep a promise to the family? The same family that silenced you? The same family that didn't protect you or me!" I shout, pushing my finger into Shepp's hard chest so forcefully, that he stumbles back a step.
Anger rushes through me, thinking back to what our parents put us through. They’ve put us through hell and back without remorse, claiming to build our characters. Shepp more than me. His father took his voice. He took everything from him without even blinking. But my father has done the same in other ways, locking me in the dark and throwing away the key. His paranoia will eat away at him until he’s pacing the floors and pulling at his hair. Everyone in the Viotto Crime Family has seen the turn of events and the senseless torture he’s put his victims through. Even six years ago, they were starting to question his motives.
“This will be your kingdom someday, Nephew,” my uncle says, squeezing my shoulder as we stand back from the crowd, gathering in the ballroom.
I look up at him. “I’m only fifteen,” I murmur, shaking my head. “My father will rule until he dies.” And knowing him, he’ll live forever just to prove a point.
“Watch him, Jericho. Watch your father as he spirals. This will be yours soon. Start building your army before your father turns his rage on you.” His dark eyes stare me down when I swallow hard.
He’s already made my life a living hell. What more could he do?
That was the stupidest question I ever asked myself. What more could he do? Everything.
Shepp's features harden—all six-foot-six of him hovers above me with a menacing glare.
‘You're acting like a two-year-old brat,’ he signs, clenching his jaw.
I run a hand down my face. Determination takes hold, drawing me forward, toward the girl I've been obsessing over since I was eight and she was six when she punched a bully in the nose, made him bleed, and then kicked him square in the nuts.
"You're ours now," I say, touching her shoulder. We may be eight, but I know what I want. "We'll take care of him." A grin stretches across my lips when Leighton, the boy she pummeled, shivers in place.
Her face twists when she shrugs off my hand. "I don't need you to protect me," she huffs. "And I don't need you to take care of him. I punched and kicked him in the nuts."
