Despite everything...I’m Lynn again, squashed beneathVinny’s thumb. His death didn’t erase my memories. My lungs struggle beneath the weight of them. My limbs burn with the need to escape, but my body... Every cell is too heavy to move.
Did you think it would be so easy, Mi Bella?my old friend taunts from the darkest reaches of my soul.Think again. I own you...
Trapped, I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my throbbing lip until it bleeds—anything to be distracted from that hollow, pulsing feeling in my chest. Is it fear? Agony? Or is it merely the knowledge that, alive or not, Vinny will never let me go.
“Look at me.”
My eyes fly open at Lucifer’s command, and Vinny doesn’t exist for the second his gaze homes in on mine—not that the devil’s rage is any easier to stomach. I have my own evil to answer for, and Lucifer frowns, both my judge and my jury.
I broke our promise.
I made a liar out of the devil.
I further corrupted his broken soul.
He tallies up my crimes in silence, and Espi’s snoring fills the space between us, mingling with the steady drip of IV fluid and the distant commotion of the hallway.
When what feels like an eternity has passed, I can’t bear the tension anymore. “Arno...is he okay?” I don’t know if I’m really concerned or if I’m just that desperate to saysomething. Either way, I chose the wrong topic.
“Mack wanted him to pay foryourkill with his life, if that’s what you mean,” the devil says. His voice is as sharp as the blade we toyed with between us, drawing yet more of my blood.
“What—”
“It’s fine,” he says quickly. “I handled it.”
He handled it, but I don’t think it was in a way Arno approved of.“I know you’ve been on ‘vacation’ for a while, but there’s only one way the alpha stops being alpha.”What did that mean? I start to ask, but a different voice cuts me off before the words leave my throat.
“You’re alive.” With one shift of his lanky frame, Espi sits upright, running his unbandaged hand through his hair.
“So are you,” I croak once I find my voice again. I can’t help the way my eyes dart from him to Dante. Side by side, it’s like watching a yin and yang symbol come to life.
Espi’s smile lights the room up, contrasting with the devil’s permanent scowl—but I’m not sure which expression I find more comforting.
They both eye me carefully, and I must make for quite the sight, because when a nurse peeks her head through the doorway, she makes a show of calling for the doctor.
In a blur of medical jargon, they throw a few terms around like poison darts.Broken ribs. Fractured arm. Months of physical therapy. Healing. Quiet. Peace.
When they leave, the only tangible piece of information I manage to decipher is that, after a few days of observation, I’ll be “free to go home, sweetie.”
Home.It’s been so long since I’ve applied that term to an actual place. Ironically, the only image that comes to mind is of a narrow room with a single bed dominated by a sleeping, imposing figure.
“You got banged up pretty good, Pyro,” Espi states with a whistle, drawing my attention back to him. His smile is as bright as ever, though the cut on his forehead ruins the carefree illusion he tries to cast.“The docs think you’ll be stuck in here for at least a week. After that...”
He lets the statement hang as if he expects me to dream up a plan of action on the spot. With Vinny’s domain in flames, I am “free,” after all. When I don’t answer, Espi glances warily at his brother.
“If you don’t have a place...you could stay with me,” Espi says. “Arno got me some digs outside of the city, and I have the extra room.”
He fiddles with his right hand while he speaks, rolling thefingers of his good hand over the bandages. I’m so fixated on the unconscious action that I don’t realize until he clears his throat that nearly a minute has gone by.
“I, uh... Thank you,” I croak out, “but I can’t.” I’ve tainted the devil and his angelic cohort long enough—though neither one seems to appreciate my guilt.
“Really, Pyro,” Espi starts. “It’s no trouble—”
“You have nowhere left to go,” the devil says, rising to his feet. There’s blood on his shirt. And his jeans. His hands... Noticing my expression, he doesn’t try to hide it. He’s the beast from the cage again, bearing his battle wounds like medals of honor. “Stacatto’s dead,” he adds. “Arno sure as hell won’t take you in. So, unless you have a better option, I suggest you drop the stoic martyr act and take the fucking offer.”
Without another word, he storms out, slamming the sliding door of the room behind him.
“Ignore him,” Espi says quietly, but for the first time, there isn’t any hostility in his tone when he refers to his brother. “I offered him a spot to crash, too,” he admits, watching the space Lucifer left with an unreadable expression. “He turned me down. Something tells me that he’ll change his mind though...”
