Page 29 of Drowning in the Deep
Sara arched an eyebrow at me but then nodded. “I guess those heels are a little ridiculous.” She reached past me for the bottle and topped her wine off. Before she could set it back down, I grabbed it and did the same. I wasn’t letting her have the majority of this like I had the daiquiris.
As I moved, so did my phone in my pocket, and for a moment, I thought it had vibrated, so I pulled it out to look at it. Nothing. I swore under my breath and set my phone down, knowing I’d better shut up or else Sara was going to kick me out.
It wasn’t like I was so interested in watching the show. I did like it, but I didn’t really care what was going on. I couldn’t even remember half of what was happening since she’d been in the middle of a season I hadn’t seen in years. I just didn’t want to be alone at the moment.
Sara had always been my anchor to normalcy. When I was with her, I was reminded of what it was like to live in a house where the mafia was just some scary entity on the periphery of reality—kind of like vampires. But when I was alone, I had to think about the truth, how I was so caught up in this mess of a life, I’d never be able to find my way out.
Even if my father was dead, what then? My brother would take over, wouldn’t he? Did Daemon think he could find a way to lead the La Rosa syndicate? He hadn’t even been able to fully take over the Petrov business. No, I was pretty certain if Daemon cut the head off the snake, another one would just take its place. Same name. Same heritage. Different problem.
So then what? If Alex knew I’d helped kill our father, he would come after me just as viciously as Father would if he found out before everything went down. That would leave me in the same sort of dangerous situation I was in now. I couldn’t fully rely on Daemon to keep me safe because he seemed to hate me just as much as he cared about me. How could I trust a man to protect me who’d kept me locked inside a dog cage for hours at a time? I couldn’t—and I knew it.
The only way I could ever escape this life fully was to fake my own death, which wasn’t a bad idea. Or I could become an FBI snitch and turn them all in. Of course, with my luck, I’d end up ratting them out to one of the guys who had his hand in my father’s pocket, and then I’d be in even more trouble.
Continuing down this path was exhausting. I didn’t want to do it anymore. That was why I’d tried to break free by coming to Chicago to begin with. After my saint of a mother had passed away, I’d had no choice but to try to put some distance between us. Now, I was all caught up in it again.
Once again, I considered calling Daemon, just to check on him. Just to hear the sound of his voice. I had a feeling he was starting to trust me a little more since I’d been so open with him about the property acquisition. Maybe he wouldn’t get mad if I gave him a ring. I reached for my phone, thinking I’d finish my wine and then sneak out to call him.
But then I thought better of it. I couldn’t force him to acknowledge I was important to him, and it seemed that the more I tried to do so, the more eagerly he pushed me away. It was best to treat the man like a skittish deer, to watch him from a distance and wait until he felt comfortable enough to come closer. Only, I didn’t want to put a bullet through his head. I just wanted him to let me into his heart.
Sara’s hand reached out to grab my wrist, which almost made me jump. “I love this part,” she said.
My eyes focused on the screen, and even though I hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening, I knew now. The familiar notes of Ron Pope’s “A Drop in the Ocean” began to play as the actors on screen portrayed the anguish, heartache, and betrayal I felt deep inside of me.
Sara began to sing along, her drunk self not quite able to catch the melody, but I found myself opening up and singing along with her, the words coming back to me as I poured my heart into what had to be one of my favorite songs.
After all, wasn’t that exactly what I had been doing all along—praying that Daemon and I would end up together? Even when I didn’t know who he was, I was praying for rain while I stood in the desert.
Now, I knew who he was, and I knew I still wanted him, although unlike Mr. Pope’s song, I wasn’t quite sure yet if Daemon Petrov was my heaven.
He very well might be my own personal hell.
Nevertheless, the very thought of him put a smile on my face as I belted out the lyrics with my best friend. Daemon was going to call me—I just knew it. I’d see him soon, and we’d work things out because we had to.
CHAPTER20
DAEMON
The meth barn smelled more like piss and spilled alcohol than meth, but then, everything in the entire farm had the odor of meth since we blew the shed up. I could still smell the singed odor of melted metal and chemicals as we gathered our five new friends up in the barn.
“On your knees,” I demanded, shoving the closest one onto the dirty floor. His knees hit hard as he tried to keep himself from falling face-first into rancid hay from a hundred years ago and whatever the hell else had been dropped on this floor over the decades. The others dropped down willingly, all of them scowling at me. They knew they were either going to die in the next few minutes, suffer horrific pain, or both.
The correct answer was actually both.
“Now, I need some answers,” I began, pacing in front of them. I’d collected my knife from the corpse where Vin had lodged it on my way in, and it still had blood dripping down the blade, so I wiped it off on the face of the guy nearest me. He grimaced as if he thought I was just going to slice right into his face. Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But I wasn’t ready for that just yet. “I have questions. You have answers. We’re going to work together so that a couple of you get to walk out of here.”
One of the Savages on the far end muttered something in Latvian I couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter because I knew it was an insult. So did Vin, who was standing behind him. He slammed his boot down into the guy’s leg so hard, we all heard the deafening crack of his bone breaking. Immediately, the man shrieked in pain, tears filling his eyes. The man next to him said, “Shut the fuck up. Die with dignity.”
That guy probably wasn’t going to be doing any talking, and the one that was blubbering couldn’t even formulate a sentence. I turned my attention to the guy on the end. “You get to go first.”
He looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with fear, but also, I saw a hint of determination. He didn’t want to talk. None of them did. So I’d have to set an example of what happened when people didn’t provide me with information.
I signaled for Dezzy to step up and hold his shoulders. Nico was standing to my right, observing, and I knew he’d go back and report all of this to the other capos, so I had to show a strong hand. With Dezzy holding the bastard in place, I placed one hand on the top of his head and brought my knife down hard, slicing through half of his ear as he screamed out in pain. Blood streamed down the side of his neck, turning his white shirt red as he tried his best to fight me. Dezzy slipped his hands down to hold his arms in place so he couldn’t flail about. Still steadying him with one hand, I took another stab at it, severing his ear fully this time.
I held the severed ear up for all to see before tossing it aside. Then, with no warning, I laid into the guy’s other ear. By now, he was hyperventilating, trying to scream with nothing but a shrill shriek coming from his throat as he panted in pain and misery. Blood dripped onto the floor, and when I caught Nico’s eyes, I could tell even he was a little astonished at the gruesome scene. I managed to get this ear off a lot faster and tossed it behind me.
Then, it was time to end it. This guy wasn’t capable of talking and wouldn’t be for a while. With Dezzy still holding him, I took my knife and plunged it into one side of the Savage’s throat, making a quick arc to the other side. The sound of his windpipe cracking as I sawed through it was akin to fingernails on a chalkboard for some, but it made me laugh.
The metallic smell of blood was unmistakable now as the pool of red sticky liquid grew deeper around what would soon be a corpse. Dezzy let him go, and the man fell over onto the floor, splashing Nico’s shoes as he jumped back out of the way. I let the Latvians take it in for a second before I wiped my knife off on the other cheek of the man I’d used before, the man who was second in line. “Now, it’s your turn to answer some questions.”
