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The guy kneeling on the floor spits blood. It splatters on the plastic sheeting in a bright-red mess. He turns. My breath catches in my throat.
Even with his swollen eye, broken nose, and blood dripping down his face, I recognize the young man.
Kenika.
Damien clears his throat as he puts his watch back on. He raises his eyebrows, spinning his finger in another circle.
I steel myself, standing up straighter despite all of the random pins. With slow movements, I twirl in a circle.
Damien nods once. “Make the train longer in back. You’ll need new shoes.”
Behind me, Giovanni clasps his hands together and bows slightly. “Sì, capo, I will –”
“I'll get them.”
Everyone turns to me.
My stomach rolls. My head feels fuzzy, barely able to think over the voices. Yet all I can focus on is the bright-red splatter.
“I-I can go shopping. Pick out a pair of shoes.” I need air. Out of this room. Anywhere but here.
Silence engulfs the office. It's so quiet I can hear the drops of blood splash on the tarp as they fall from Kenika's face in a slow drip like a leaky faucet.Red drops fall onto the white floor.
Damien's dark gaze burns into me, analyzing every inch of my being, searching for a hint that something is off. I stay motionless, willing the voices to quiet.Still, just like a good girl.
“Fine.” He nods after several minutes. “You can go tomorrow. Kane will accompany you.” Turning to the tailor, he dismisses me.
Gone. Nothing. Just a pretty statue.
The voices scream inside my head, calling me worse. My stomach turns, needing to expel its meager contents.
“Have the dress ready by next Friday.” With the flick of his wrist, he dismisses him as well. Then, he turns toward Kane while nodding his head at the beaten man on the ground. “Take the yacht and bring him to Kilauea. Find a way to get those tapes back and bring me Hector.”
My spine stiffens. Sweat pools at the back of my neck. I barely resist the urge to wipe my clammy hands on the gown. Somehow, I make it back to my room and change before hurling all the contents of my stomach.
Clutching my temples with both hands, I crouch on the floor. Rocking back and forth, I wait, listening.Listening to the voices in my head. Trying to push them out. Listening to the rest of the penthouse. Waiting.
It's quiet out there. Too quiet. I wish my head had the same off switch that somehow blanketed the house.
I wait hours, rocking on the ground, clutching my head as tears stream down my cheeks. Eventually, the sun bids her farewell to the islands, enveloping the city in sleep.
But there's no sleep for me.
Only pain. Only tears. Only memories that won't fade.
As the moon edges toward the horizon, I finally hear it.
I jerk my head up at the sound of a door slamming.
“Oi,” the deep voice echoes through the walls, “da hell, braddah?”
There are a few bangs and crashes as his voice draws nearer.
“You one killah, now?” There's a large bang right outside my room, like a fist hitting the wall.
Wiping my tear-stained face, I stand and make my way out of my room.
Dorian huddles across the hallway in his doorway.
