AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I smirked.
In all these years, the Whisper had never been able to kill Francesca. He’d tried many times, and I had blocked those attempts.
Since I’d been in prison, word had gotten to me that she remained hidden most of the time, terrified to leave her mansion.
Are you scared that I’m coming for you, Francesca?
My smirk widened.
You better be.
Thank God, the Whisper was smart enough to realize that I could be a simple tool for ending the Crimson Mob.
“Dad says you will be out next week.”
“Wait.” My heart pounded in my chest as I processed his words. “What? Next week? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, man.”
I blinked. “But. . .”
All this time I had assumed my plan would take years, not days.
Rocco gestured behind him. “The guard will let you know in a few minutes that you have a visitor. It will be your new lawyer.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“During the visit, Dad picked up his phone and called one of our judges.” Rocco snapped his fingers. “Boom. The case will be thrown out on some legal bullshit that he comes up with. Doesn’t matter. All will play along.”
“Next week? Are you serious?”
Rocco nodded. “We’ll get to have those shots of rum on the outside now that we talked about. I actually leave tomorrow.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m free. . .next week. . .”
The past memory of the last judge’s voice rang in my ears. He’d been cold and detached as he sentenced me to life, times four. The room had fallen into stunned silence, the air heavy with disbelief and despair.
I had glanced over at Zuri. Tears streamed down her pretty face. Pain filled her eyes. During those days, she had given everything to pay for my lawyer, almost going broke in the process.
As the guards dragged me away, I stole a glance at Zuri’s beautiful brown eyes one last time.
My voice broke as I told her to forget about me, to live her life, to move on.
Her cries followed me down the hall and haunted me.
Rocco chuckled, pulling me away from the heartbreaking memory. “I know you are ready to get out of this damn cell.”
“I am.” I looked at the stacks of unopened letters on a worn cardboard box that I had made into a tiny table.
Those letters—sealed with love but left unbroken—were drenched in Zuri’s perfume. Jasmine—a scent that was a constant torture to my senses. It filled the small space, comforting and tormenting me.
There were twenty-two unopened letters in all.
She sent ten the first year I was in jail.
They had arrived like soft whispers from the world outside, reminders of a life I had once lived, full of love, warmth, and laughter. I imagined her fingers caressing the paper as I took in the gentle curves of her handwriting on the front of the envelopes.
I never opened them or responded.
She had to let go of me.
Live her life.
Move on.
Then, for the next years, like clockwork, she always sent a letter on my birthday, one on Christmas, and another in October.
And I would add each one to the stack.
I couldn’t open them.
To break the seal would be to break my heart.
Would it not let loose a flood of emotions that I had carefully dammed up, to survive in this concrete prison crowded with murderous men?
They had to remain closed.
Too many memories.
Her smile.
Her laugh.
The lush feel of her body.
The sound of her moans.
The way she looked at me with love and trust in those gorgeous eyes.
All of that was gone, replaced by the cold, hard reality of prison bars and the heavy weight of regret.
Yet. . .
On those long, cold nights, I would walk over to those letters, take them out, feel the texture of the paper, and inhale the sweet fragrance that clung to them.
Sometimes. . .I would trace her handwriting with my finger and imagine the words she had written.
The thoughts she had shared.
The love she had poured into each line. . .
But I never opened them.
“Oh.” Rocco caught my gazing at that stack of envelopes and then pointed to Zuri’s pictures. “I know the first thing that you will be doing when you get out.”
“Killing Crimson Mob—”
“No.” Rocco chuckled. “My dad and I aren’t heathens. It will be the day before Christmas Eve.”
“And Francesca’s head will be my Christmas present to him.”
“I love the determination, but come on, man.” Rocco shook his head. “Give yourself some days to relax with your girlfriend. Kill them before the New Year or something.”
My body tensed. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
“No? Why not?”
I turned away, my emotions suddenly raw, my heart aching with loss and regret. “I told her to move on. If she’s smart, she did.”
Rocco laughed some more. “Why the hell would you tell her to move on?”
“At the time, there was no possibility of my ever getting out.” I fisted my hands at my sides. “I loved her too much to make her live the rest of her life with no physical contact, only finding her affection through letters and phone calls from jail.”
