Page 200

Numb.
A blonde with big tits danced at the center of the room. From this angle, she looked like Alex when she swayed her hips.
But she wasn’t Alex.
No one could replace her.
No amount of drugs, alcohol, or pussy could fill the hole in my chest. Alex was my end game, plain and simple. Neither of us could escape fate.
Tuning out the world, I lay my head back against the chair, sipped from the bottle of scotch, and stared up at the ceiling, heart racing.
She would forgive me.
My girl always did.
But would I forgive myself?
She’s upstairs.
Go get her, dumb ass.
Tell her how you feel.
70
ALEX
My eyes sweptover Marcello’s bedroom, taking in every inch of the space. He was alone on the top floor, his father at the far end of the hall. Thankfully, we hadn’t run into Arlo. That would have been awkward as fuck.
The room had high ceilings, tall windows with dark curtains, and a balcony overlooking the bay. He had the same room as Luca, but one floor above him. I stood at the center of the room and noted every mural detail, which spanned two walls.
Marcello can paint.
A smile stretched across my face, and a strange feeling stirred in my belly. Several emotions raced through me at once—excitement, happiness, and pride. His mom would have been so proud of him. I thought about the fresco in Evangeline’s studio. With their perfect golden crowns, she saw her sons as stars, the light illuminating their handsome faces.
Smooth brushstrokes created a world that belonged to Marcello, and his bedroom was a testament to his raw talent. Black, red, orange, and a hint of white paint swirled across his walls. In Brooklyn, I painted the Underworld version of Devil’s Creek on my bedroom walls. All the devils were there. But Marcello’s muralwasthe Underworld.
A man stood at the center of the skull and fire landscape, his head down, dark waves atop his head. He had snakes wrapped around his legs, slithering up his arms. What looked like a king cobra sat on his shoulder, its tongue hanging out.
Like The Serpents.
“Marcello,” I choked out, stunned by this surprise. “This is…” I turned to look at him. My mouth hung open. “Wow… You’re really good.”
“We have a lot in common,” he said with a wink.
I smiled up at him. “You could pursue an art career. We could…”
“No. I don’t want anyone to know.” He shook his head, dark hair falling onto his forehead. “My art is the only thing not corrupted by evil.”
“Exposing my art to the world opened my life up to interpretation. I get a lot of questions about Luca. People want to know if he’s the Devil in my paintings.”
“He’s your inspiration.”
“It started as a present for him,” I admitted. “Just an experiment. I didn’t even think my first Devil painting was that good. But Luca made a big deal out of it.”
“My brother is a bastard. But he has his moments.”
Marcello’s eyes flicked back to the mural. I studied the man with the snake wrapped around his body.