“With Dog Mom,” she says before disappearing inside her room. “She kept him while I was at the office.”
Trading Wilder’s slippers for a pair of my own tennis shoes, I grab a hoodie from my dresser and slip it on, knocking on Lydia’s door as I pass. “I’m going to get the dog. I’ll be right back.”
“What?” she shouts over the sound of running water.
“Nothing,” I mumble, heading out the door. I’ll be back before she’s done with her bath.
The warm winter day ends with the setting sun, and a bitter chill falls over the city. I lift my hood over my head to block the cold, hurrying down the concrete pathway leading to Dawn’s apartment. Sprinklers turn on over the grassy area where the dogs run. Water sputters from the sprinkler’s head before a uniform arch drenches the entire area.
Trickling water duets with the crickets, and their tune serves as a warning about the approaching night. The air smells like freshly mowed grass and the bitter scent of tap water, leaves long decayed and always salty from the nearby sea.
The twin boys from Building C are caught in the spray, and instead of fleeing, they celebrate and ride their bikes through the jetting streams of water, racing from one end of the lawn to the other. They plow up grass under their wheels, digging grooves into the submerging mud.
Naughty children. Naughty, normal, innocent children.
Not wicked.
Blessed.
Some units have their Christmas decorations up, wreaths on the doors, garland wrapped around porch railings, and strings of bulbs varying in sizes along windows. And then there’s Dog Mom’s apartment, decked out with an entire nativity scene beside an inflatable Santa that waves and chants,ho ho ho,as I approach.
Not too far off, St. Nick,I think to myself.Not too far off at all.
Wearing a headband with antlers, Dawn catches my eye through her apartment window and lifts her hand to wave as the hair on the back of my neck stands up and my spine straightens. Her smile falters with greeting, and I don’t have to turn around to know someone is standing behind me. A hand clamps around my mouth as Dawn rushes through her apartment, but it’s too late.
“Tell her to go back inside,” Luca sneers into my ear. He drags me away. “Or she dies.”
Human strength is a funny thing. When Wilder and I are together, I take in his tall stature and bulky body mass, and my mind knows he’s strong. There’s power in his handshake, in the way he hugs, kisses, and fucks me. I witnessed it this morning in the gym. I saw the way his muscles flexed and his veins protruded. He grunted, curling weight I could never pick up myself.
But I’ve never truly felt the force behind those muscles, that strength, or the damage it can inflict.
Luca uses everything he has on me, and it feels like I’m dying. He crushes my face under his hand, squeezing my body against his like a vise, folding my lungs and bending bones. No amount of struggling loosens his grip until I nod in agreement.
“Camilla,” Dawn calls out. She bursts through her door, coming to a sudden stop when faced with us on the pathway between our apartments. The antlers on her head have fallen to the side, and she holds her hands over her heart. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Who is this?”
I should follow directions and tell Dawn that Luca is a friend. She might not believe me, but she would trust my judgment and go back to her dogs. To my dog. But Wilder was wrong. He is nothing like Luca.
We are nothing like them.
After a lifetime in the dark with my monsters, I know what they look like. I’ve danced with devils and brushed elbows with men who prayed at the altar with deceitful tongues.
Love doesn’t delight in evil but rejoices with the truth, and we don’t fucking lie. We blur the line between sinner and saint, crossing off commandments like a to-do list. But we don’t share Luca’s wickedness. His soul is corrupt. Like my dad’s. Like Elijah’s.
But our hearts are capable of love.
I sat in my father’s closet for years, with my head down and my lips closed, only to find out it was never locked.
“What’s done in the dark will come to light.”
That’s not a mistake I’ll make twice.
“Dawn, run.”
Luca groans and reaches into his back waistband, as if this is nothing more than an annoyance and the woman with the silly antlers on is open season. The color drains from Dawn’s face, and she shrinks back, retreating slowly before turning around to run. With the gun in one hand, Luca points, squeezing his finger on the trigger.
“No!” I slam into him, driving my hand under his wrist to aim the pistol to the night sky. The weapon fires, rocking my body with the violent force of it. And the echo ricochets through the complex, bringing everything to a standstill.
Luca has the audacity to laugh, scratching an itch at his temple with the barrel of the gun. “She got away thanks to you,” he says. And then he’s back on me, twisting my arm behind my back and sticking the pistol in my side. “Try me again. I won’t miss this time.”
