Arno shrugs. “You’re right. It should have been my bullet in his brain.”
“N-no.” I don’t realize I’ve even spoken up until I’m shoved behind Lucifer.
“Shut up,” someone growls at me, though I don’t know if it’s him or Arno.
“Is there a problem?” Dante asks, his voice hard and cold.
Mack is grinning and dangerous in his rage, but Lucifer... He is ice and fire swirling into one unstable inferno. I watch as he cracks his neck while flexing the fingers of his right hand.
“There won’t be,” Mack admits, “just as long as Dino’s bastard pup is willing to accept the punishment for taking the life of his fellow man. I’ll think about it, but I hope he’s grown some balls since the days he used to beg his daddy not to throw him in the cage.”
“Take your time,” Arno snarls. “I’ll pay your fucking price.”
“Youwill,” Mack agrees. “But, for now, enjoy the spoils of your war, Kitty. For now.”
Before I can blink, Dante already has me outside, and I’m struggling to keep up as he barrels toward the garage with Arno on his heels. A few other men follow, but their wary glances at the bar reveal where their loyalties lie. The devil may not be their king, but he’s a hard leader to resist. I can’t take my eyes off him, and he wrenches the door to the garage open and shoves me inside.
“What the hell happened?”
“Nothing,” Arno grunts.
Bracing my hand against the staircase, I glance over my shoulder at them. “I did it. I killed him. He tried to—”
“I killed him,” Arno insists, slapping a hand against his chest. “You challenge that, girlie, and you’re calling me a fucking liar.” His eyes flash with warning, but Dante steps forward, effectively placing himself between us.
“I have your back,” he tells Arno.
“That’s all I fucking ask.” With one last glare at me, he turns and storms out.
The men still crossing the field fall into step behind him, and it’s just me and the devil left watching from the doorway.
“Youkilled him?” Dante asks me, though I can’t tell what he thinks. His expression is stone.
I nod. My hand shakes, and I glance down and find it still painted red with blood. Though is itreallythere? I rub my fingers together, but I only feel skin. “I killed him...”
The world sways with the force of that admission. Daniela Manzano is a killer. She stabbed a man in cold blood. She looked into his eyes as the life drained from them. She didn’t even feel regret...
Because, if anyone else dared to challenge the promise etched into her flesh, she would probably kill them too.
“Come here.” Lucifer grabs my arm and hauls me up the stairs and inside the apartment before locking the door behind us. “Look at me.”
He steers me around to face him, his eyes boring deep. I don’t know what he finds in mine that makes him draw closer. Or what makes him drag his thumb across my lower lip, raising a fire that sears me down to the core.
He doesn’t stop me when I step forward and press my face into his chest. He doesn’t hold me, either, or comfort me the way Vinny would—pet names and petting. He lets me breathe him in, however. He lets me brace my fingers against his chest and leech off his heat. He lets me feel his heartbeat.
He lets me break...which I do in bits and pieces. Puppets spend their lives dangling from so many strings that they’re unsure of which emotions to feel during certain moments. Most people probably wouldn’t snicker from knowing they’ve killed a man.
Though most people wouldn’t be comforted by clinging to a more proficient killer, either.
I haven’t shareda bed with anyone since the days I used to creep into my parents’ room as they slept. I still remember how warm the spot between them was, basted by the heat of their love. I had never felt safer than I did at that moment...at least until Lucifer drags me to the bed and climbs in beside me, his arm pinning my waist to his side.
He doesn’t acknowledge the act out loud; I’m merely a bone he forgot to unclamp from his jaws. Regardless, it’s an awkward exercise to fit his bulk beside mine on the mattress. He has to curve himself against me in order to keep his feet from dangling off the bed. I’m left paralyzed while his heat bathes my body in years of sin, and I know deep down that I’ll never be able to erase his scent from my lungs. Or this memory from my head—which is a double-edged sword.
The devil is a drug for which there is no cure. No rehab. No recovery.
Weighed down by the souls he’s damned, he’s restless in his sleep, mumbling meaningless words into my neck and roughly dragging his fingers through my hair. At some point during the night, he holds me so tightly that I fear my ribs might break.
In the end, they don’t...but my heart does. Old fear coats the ruined pieces, and once again, I feel a horrible sense that none of this will last. Vinny will have the last laugh. I’ll never have a moment like this again.
