He says nothing while I wrestle my sweatpants into place, and for a moment, we just linger here, panting in the tiny, enclosed space while blood forms a puddle on the floor.
In the end, Arno surveys the dead man with a grunt and runs a hand through his red hair. “I guess Dante’s not the only one used to fighting his way out of a cage.”
“You...you were going to help me,” I say, my voice rasping. Not only that, but he wasn’t throwing me down, eager to try to “kill an hour” for himself. My fingers tense over the unfamiliar hilt of the knife just in case he changes his mind, and a part of me cackles at the motion.
Anyoneshould have been easier to bear than Vinny—only a few days ago, I swore that to myself. Am I really willing to fightmy way through another man—and possibly even more—just to preserve what little tarnished “virtue” I have left?
One twitch of my hip—which triggers a painful throb in my core—and I know the answer. To protect the deal I made with the devil, I just might...
Rather than make a move for me, Arno grits his teeth. “Yeah,” he admits. “But not for you. If I let that fucker touch you, Dante would kill me—and I’m not being funny when I say that.If I let that man touch you, Dante would kill me.” He spits out each word so that I don’t miss the bitter undertone of truth. “A skinny bit of ass isn’t worth my life.”
I have to agree with him as I finally let the knife fall.
I’m not worth anyone’s life, and when my gaze falls over the dead man again, I feel pity instead of guilt. What a stupid way to die.
A rapon the partition separating the back of the van from the front is the only warning before it starts moving again, and I’m not exactly sure which emotion churns my stomach as I scramble to get my bearings. Am I sick with fear? Sick with anticipation? Sick with pain?
All three have their merits, and I’m trembling when the van finally comes to a stop right before the door is opened from the outside.
“Get back.” Arno all but shoves me behind him to reach the exit first, and his voice reaches back to me on a low whisper. “We have a problem.”
Faint light spills in as Arno climbs out—but I can’t make out the figure standing on the other end. Mack is my first guess, but when my vision clears, I make out two piercing blue eyes...
The devil waits until I creep closer before he plunges a handthrough the doorway of the van and clasps the one I’m sticking out to meet him, pulling me out onto a narrow street. Relief is such a powerful emotion outside of Vinny’s cage. It weighs me down until I can only stand here and observe every inch of my devil. He’s not dead, at least, and I don’t make out any fresh bruises or cuts forming over his body. But there’s a look in his eye... It’s familiar for a reason that drenches me in dread. His eyes seem more dead than those of the man I just killed. Speaking of which, I’m jostled aside as an unfamiliar man peeks into the shadow of the van.
“Kayden?” he calls out.
When he doesn’t get an answer, he climbs in, and I assume the startled curse he utters next means he noticed the body lying in the corner.
“Kayden? He’s dead! What the fuck?” Before the man even fully leaves the van, three men standing behind Dante start to draw their weapons—though they quickly change their minds when Arno pulls his out first.
Two other men automatically step toward him, and invisible lines of loyalty are drawn in the sand.
“Your friend had a little ‘accident,’” Arno says coldly. “Had to learn the hard way that ‘no’ means ‘no.’”
“You?” the man who drew the gun demands, his weapon still trained in our direction.
Arno scoffs. “Who else?”
My hands flex, still wet with warm, sticky blood—but no one even looks at me.
Arno wears the suspicion with pride. “You wanna end up like him?”
“We’ll settle this later,” Dante snaps, drawing the attention to himself. “At the moment, we have about five minutes before the cops home in. I don’t know about you fucks, but I’d rather not spend the night in jail.”
The men grunt in agreement and follow as Lucifer turns down a narrow alley that smells like fish and into a small,enclosed parking lot currently inhabited by three large vans. I don’t understand why we’re here until one of the vehicles opens and women—all in various stages of dress—climb out.
Just like that, I stop thinking about murder and death. I forget all about Vinny. The only thing that matters is the emotion shooting through my chest, which robs me of everything, even the will to breathe.
Relief? Triumph? Fear?
The devil came through for me yet again. Because of him, at least one of Vinny’s precious businesses has taken a hit. Whatever happens after this moment, there can be no going back—and it’s an incredible, paralyzing sort of freedom to know that, somewhere...Vinny is seething because of me.
I’m still paralyzed by the shock, even as Dante explains to Arno how the plan went.
“Police on the way...tipped off...”
I can only start to move when my eyes finally connect with the kohl-lined gaze of one of the women. She’s terrified, her pupils massive and her breathing heavy.
