Page 30

I’M NOT THAT INNOCENT

MILA

As if Alex has been waiting for me to arrive, his gaze lands on me the second I stop in the doorway. He’s seated in a large black leather chair at the center of the room. The only remaining Sigma Sin King, overseeing his subjects while the party rages.

I don’t miss the berth everyone here gives him after the incident at the carnival. They’re finally seeing the monster who’s been let out of his cage after he planted a knife in Marco’s shoulder. That quick action solidified every rumor they’ve whispered about him for the past two years.

I narrow my eyes, not breaking Alex’s stare.

Even if I didn’t respond to his texts earlier, I’m sure he assumed I’d end up here. Apparently, I’m a masochist who can’t fucking help it.

What does it say that I continue stepping into his all-consuming darkness? Testing myself like my history will help me withstand whatever he has planned for me. If I were under the illusion that a clear-minded Alex stepped out of Montgomery, I was wrong .

He’s vicious, and with every passing day, he unravels a little more.

The room is clogged with marijuana smoke, and my head swims with every breath. It’s hazy between us. A mess of people dance offbeat. Flesh and sin. Sickness and lack of inhibition.

And Alex sits at the center.

If he put his violence away for a moment, he could have any of the women who watch him from the edges of the room. But he remains alone, looking almost proud of how his actions keep him isolated.

Finally stepping through the archway, I don’t head toward Alex. I break stares and walk over to a table filled with shots. Being drunk won’t do me any good, but one look in Alex’s eyes and I know I need something to cut the edge before I face him.

Usually, I’m hesitant to pick up any pre-poured drinks at Sigma House, but with my eyes on Alex, I lift one and down it. He’d stop me if there was something laced with the alcohol because even if he is a violent, twisted man, he won’t let anything happen to me.

That much, I trust.

I set the empty shot glass back on the sticky table, and Alex stands. But instead of walking toward me, he tips his head, indicating for me to follow. And I do because I’m no more done playing this game than he is forcing me to participate in it.

My black tank top sticks around my ribs. It’s sweltering inside Sigma House, and the tension between me and Alex isn’t helping.

He guides me to the large foyer, where the main staircase leads to the members’ bedrooms upstairs.

Alex doesn’t pause as he passes the two new Sigma House members standing guard at the bottom. He simply angles his head to indicate I’m approved to follow. I doubt they’d stop me even if he didn’t. Everyone here knows I’m with Alex at this point.

He made that clear at the carnival.

Alex walks up the stairs ahead of me, not pausing until he reaches the top. Only then does he meet my eyes and holds out his hand.

An offer, dangling between us.

His hazel eyes are deceptive in this light because the green and gold shine, but beyond that, there’s nothing but darkness.

Nothing but haunted memories and the fragments of a man the doctors could never put back together.

Still, I reach for him because I need him.

I take his hand like an oath I’m not ready to commit to.

He’d kill for me without blinking—and I’m sick enough to not hate him for it.

To feel at home with him because of it.

Alex waits for me to take the final step before he starts walking again. He leads me to the left, opposite to where I know Marco’s room is.

There’s no turning back as our fingers thread together.

From what I’ve been told, each room at Sigma House is purposely soundproof. It doesn’t escape me as to why that is.

We continue down a long hallway, not stopping until we reach the very end, and Alex pulls out his key. He unlocks it and waits for me to step inside first, where the fog of marijuana smoke is replaced with the scent of citrus.

Smells that take me back to when I used to visit him at Montgomery.

The door clicks behind him, and my spine straightens, but he doesn’t move. His back presses to the door while he watches me explore his room.

It’s a lot like the one he had at the psychiatric ward.

Not much fills the space aside from the essentials, either out of habit or comfort.

There’s an unmade bed on one wall and a dresser beside it.

At the opposite end is a treadmill and a stack of weights.

The door to the bathroom is open, and it reminds me of Violet and Teal saying Declan’s and Kole’s rooms also had private bathrooms.

Marco shared with a few others, so this must be an indication of Alex’s status with the House.

“You wanted to talk.” I twist my fingers together behind my back. “So talk.”

Alex smirks, lifting off the closed door and approaching. Every step makes my heart skip a beat, and when he stops in front of me, I can’t decide if it’s fear or excitement that has my heart hammering.

Ever so gently, he tucks my hair behind my ear. “Why are you here, Mila?”

“Seriously?” My shoulders deflate. “You asked me to be here.”

“Doesn’t mean you had to show up.”

“I guess.” I hate how simple that sounds when it isn’t at all. “Maybe I’m here for the same reason you decided that I would be the person you’d finally talk to after all these years. Or maybe I’m just a masochist. Who knows.”

His eyes meet mine, and I wet my lips to settle my nerves when he smirks.

“Why did you decide to talk to me?” I ask, trying not to breathe him in as he steps closer. “We barely spoke at the hospital. And I know what people say about me… the rumors Marco spreads. I can only guess what you assumed about me before we met. ”

“You have no idea what I knew about you before we met at Montgomery.” His words are clipped.

“Did your sister mention me?”

He shakes his head. “Patience never so much as said your name to me until you showed up there. But I didn’t need her to understand you, Mila.”

“You always call me by my name.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s your name.”

“Most guys avoid names whenever possible. God forbid they accidentally say the wrong thing.”

“If a man could look into your eyes and call you anything other than who you are, then he isn’t worth the time you’re giving him.”

“Are you worth it?”

His fingers pause where he’s still absentmindedly playing with my hair. “No.”

Alex’s hand falls away, and I miss it.

Miss him.

My whole chest aches when he’s not touching me.

“Why not?” I ask.

“You saw what I did to Marco?”

“Yes, and you don’t scare me, Alex.” I press my lips tight, taking a shallow breath. “You’re not the only one with secrets and regrets. I’ve done my share of terrible things too.”

Remi’s scream echoes in my mind. I should have fought harder to save her. I should be out there hunting the man who hurt her. Instead, I’ve let myself get distracted. I was all she had left, and I’m failing to get her justice.

“We all have our failings.” Tears burn behind my eyes, but I hold the dam. “I’m not that different from you.”

“Except you are.” Once again, his hand finds my jaw, and he holds it like I’m shattered glass. “Your sins are forgivable.”

“And yours aren’t?”

He doesn’t answer that question right away. His gaze roves over my face, pausing where my lips press together.

“There’s no heaven for me at the end of this.” He slowly drags his thumb up over the apple of my cheek. “No forgiveness. No atonement. No peace.”

I can’t decide what makes me shiver. That it sounds like whatever he’s referring to isn’t over, or that he thinks he’s truly damned.

Truly evil.

“So why am I here then, Alex? If you’re that terrible and not worth it, then why would I subject myself to you?”

“Because it’s what you think you deserve.”

“You aren’t someone I’m just using to punish myself,” I whisper.

“I wouldn’t care if you were.”

“That’s really fucked-up.”

He shrugs. “It’s you.”

“And that means something?”

“It means everything, my angel.”

I swallow hard, trying to process how certain he sounds. After all these years without speaking, sometimes he still stumbles over his words just slightly, or his voice cracks. But there’s no hint of doubt when he talks about what I am to him.

No hesitation.

“I’m no angel. I’m not that innocent.”

“Never said you were.” Alex tilts my chin up, brushing his thumb along the ridge of my lower lip. “You’re the angel of death, Mila Bianchi. Because when I laid eyes on you, I was certain I’d crossed over. ”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Depends on how you look at it after what happened to me.”

I swallow hard, looking up into Alex’s eyes, and I dare to wrap my hand around his wrist. I ignore that he flinches when my fingers touch his scarred flesh, and I finally dare to ask him the question I’ve needed an answer to since the first day we met.

“What did happen to you, Alex? What did they do to you in that trial?”