Page 81 of Crescendo (Beautiful Monsters #1)

Forty newly freed women are running loose around the city now—each worth at least a grand. Mack doesn’t like having his pretty bones snatched away. He snarls in anger even as he counts the money stacked on the counter before him.

“Nabbing the drugs wasn’t as easy as you made it seem,” he adds, “but we managed to make a dent. Everyone’s happy.

” He forces a smile that seems like a gruesome mockery of the real thing.

“Or almost everyone.” His eyes home in on Arno.

“A man named Kayden, to be exact, isn’t very happy, now is he, Arnold? A man who is...was...my friend .”

Arno doesn’t flinch beneath the hostility directed his way. In fact...I think he feeds off it. With a wicked grin, he draws himself up to his full height, but there’s nothing but ice in his tone when he speaks. “The bastard crossed a line.”

“I don’t really give a shit,” Mack says, his lips still stuck in that impression of a smile.

“He could have pinned the little bitch down and forced her to suck him off in the middle of traffic. Unless...you have a problem with that?” His eyes are on Arno, but the question is directed solely at the man tethering me to his side.

“Don’t tell me that you have a hard-on for Stacatto’s whore. ..”

“It doesn’t really fucking matter why,” Arno growls, stepping forward.

His eyes gleam, and for the first time, I see the family resemblance between Lucifer and him.

If Dante is a fallen angel, then Arno is the lost soul he met on his way down to Hell.

“I told the fucker to stop. He didn’t, and he got what he deserved. ”

Mack grunts out a chuckle. “A knife to the chest?”

Arno shrugs. “You’re right. It should have been my bullet in his brain.”

“N-no.” I don’t realize I’ve even spoken up until I’m shoved behind Lucifer .

“Shut up,” someone growls at me, though I don’t know if it’s him or Arno.

“Is there a problem?” Dante asks, his voice hard and cold.

Mack is grinning and dangerous in his rage, but Lucifer... He is ice and fire swirling into one unstable inferno. I watch as he cracks his neck while flexing the fingers of his right hand.

“There won’t be,” Mack admits, “just as long as Dino’s bastard pup is willing to accept the punishment for taking the life of his fellow man. I’ll think about it, but I hope he’s grown some balls since the days he used to beg his daddy not to throw him in the cage.”

“Take your time,” Arno snarls. “I’ll pay your fucking price.”

“You will ,” Mack agrees. “But, for now, enjoy the spoils of your war, Kitty. For now.”

Before I can blink, Dante already has me outside, and I’m struggling to keep up as he barrels toward the garage with Arno on his heels.

A few other men follow, but their wary glances at the bar reveal where their loyalties lie.

The devil may not be their king, but he’s a hard leader to resist. I can’t take my eyes off him, and he wrenches the door to the garage open and shoves me inside.

“What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Arno grunts.

Bracing my hand against the staircase, I glance over my shoulder at them. “I did it. I killed him. He tried to—”

“I killed him,” Arno insists, slapping a hand against his chest. “You challenge that, girlie, and you’re calling me a fucking liar.” His eyes flash with warning, but Dante steps forward, effectively placing himself between us.

“I have your back,” he tells Arno.

“That’s all I fucking ask.” With one last glare at me, he turns and storms out.

The men still crossing the field fall into step behind him, and it’s just me and the devil left watching from the doorway .

“ You killed him?” Dante asks me, though I can’t tell what he thinks. His expression is stone.

I nod. My hand shakes, and I glance down and find it still painted red with blood. Though is it really there? I rub my fingers together, but I only feel skin. “I killed him...”

The world sways with the force of that admission. Daniela Manzano is a killer. She stabbed a man in cold blood. She looked into his eyes as the life drained from them. She didn’t even feel regret...

Because, if anyone else dared to challenge the promise etched into her flesh, she would probably kill them too.

“Come here.” Lucifer grabs my arm and hauls me up the stairs and inside the apartment before locking the door behind us. “Look at me.”

He steers me around to face him, his eyes boring deep. I don’t know what he finds in mine that makes him draw closer. Or what makes him drag his thumb across my lower lip, raising a fire that sears me down to the core.

He doesn’t stop me when I step forward and press my face into his chest. He doesn’t hold me, either, or comfort me the way Vinny would—pet names and petting. He lets me breathe him in, however. He lets me brace my fingers against his chest and leech off his heat. He lets me feel his heartbeat.

He lets me break...which I do in bits and pieces. Puppets spend their lives dangling from so many strings that they’re unsure of which emotions to feel during certain moments. Most people probably wouldn’t snicker from knowing they’ve killed a man.

Though most people wouldn’t be comforted by clinging to a more proficient killer, either.

I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since the days I used to creep into my parents’ room as they slept.

I still remember how warm the spot between them was, basted by the heat of their love.

I had never felt safer than I did at that moment.

..at least until Lucifer drags me to the bed and climbs in beside me, his arm pinning my waist to his side.

He doesn’t acknowledge the act out loud; I’m merely a bone he forgot to unclamp from his jaws.

Regardless, it’s an awkward exercise to fit his bulk beside mine on the mattress.

He has to curve himself against me in order to keep his feet from dangling off the bed.

I’m left paralyzed while his heat bathes my body in years of sin, and I know deep down that I’ll never be able to erase his scent from my lungs.

Or this memory from my head—which is a double-edged sword.

The devil is a drug for which there is no cure. No rehab. No recovery.

Weighed down by the souls he’s damned, he’s restless in his sleep, mumbling meaningless words into my neck and roughly dragging his fingers through my hair. At some point during the night, he holds me so tightly that I fear my ribs might break.

In the end, they don’t...but my heart does. Old fear coats the ruined pieces, and once again, I feel a horrible sense that none of this will last. Vinny will have the last laugh. I’ll never have a moment like this again.

The thought makes me hold him tighter. I wish I weren’t too sore to take him again.

I’d make him fuck the darkness from my skull and chase the fear away.

I’d make him own me until I cease to remember anything—or anyone—else before him.

My fingers twitch at the prospect, and I glance up, observing the planes of his face through the darkness.

Within a second, I know I don’t have the heart to wake him.

The devil is as exhausted as he is powerful.

I think of those dark days when he huddled on his bed in terror.

I wonder if he’s ever had a good night’s sleep.

When I drag my fingers along his chin, he doesn’t wake, but his brow furrows, resisting any comfort even while unconscious.

I’m halfway toward caressing a trail to his nose when a sudden sound breaks the quiet.

I flinch, bolting upright, but the devil at my side doesn’t even stir.

My first thought is that one of Mack’s men is trying to break in, but the sound is too.

..musical? It’s a sharp, mechanical melody, like that of a ringtone.

Rolling to the edge of the mattress, I scour the room, but the only clue I have is a strange whirring sound that comes from the duffel Espi gave me, tucked against the wall.

Faint light of dawn creeps in through the window and guides my way to the corner of the room.

I unzip the bag and find something I missed during my first search at the bottom of it.

It’s a cell phone, small and pink. A yellow sticky note obscures the screen and the note scribbled across it reads I’ve got this number programmed into mine .

If you need anything, give me a ring, Pyro.

A tired smile shapes my mouth. When I peel the note away, the name Espisido lights the screen up as an incoming call.

After a glance over my shoulder to make sure Dante’s still sleeping, I creep into the hallway and into the bathroom.

I run the water in the sink at full blast, and then I tentatively bring the receiver to my ear and answer the call.

“Espi?”

“Lynn,” a gruff voice replies. “‘Pyro Girl.’ Somehow, I knew it was you.”

My entire world stops spinning. Time is reduced to nothing. Only the sound of rushing water ties my soul to the present as, as if from far away, I hear a strange woman speak. “V-Vinny.”

“It’s a shame, Mi Bella ,” he croons into my ear, his voice disrupted by static. “I hate to punish you, but it is the only way you seem to learn.”

My stomach drops even before he murmurs the next words the same way a caring teacher might announce the day’s lesson.

“You are going to listen, Mi Bella , while I kill this man. At first, I assumed he was the bastard you fucked, but at least, when I cut his balls off, you will remember your purpose...”

I hear screaming, distinctly male. The sound battles with the running water, piercing my eardrums, and my blood runs cold with recognition . Espi!

“No! No! Vinny, no!” I lean forward as my voice comes out as a strangled whisper. In an instant, Daniela dies, and Lynn is resurrected in her place. She knows that the only way to Vincent Stacatto’s twisted, black soul is to beg. “Please. Please. Please. Don’t hurt him. Please—”

“Give me one reason why,” Vinny commands, his accent riding the words more strongly than I have ever heard it. These past few days have strained his control, and when Espi shouts again, I know that Vinny’s the reason why.

“You are going to listen, Mi Bella, while I kill this man.”

“M-me,” I manage to croak. “I’ll come back to you. I’m the one you want. Please. Let him go. Please. I love you. Please—”

“You love me,” Vinny growls, a laugh tainting the words as if they were some sick joke. “Were you thinking about me these past few days, Daniela? Were you thinking about my love when you threw my goddamn ring?”

Espi cries out—no, an animal does, releasing a plaintive, inhuman howl, high-pitched with pain...

“P-please,” I beg, but my voice has gone cold.

I’m reading from an old script I thought I’d never have to open again.

Lynn knows Vinny. She knows how to keep his hand steady when he aches to slap her.

She knows how to get on her hands and knees.

“I...I d-deserve to be punished,” I hear myself say.

“I’m so sorry, Vinny, but please don’t hurt him. I’ll come back. I’ll come back.”

For a moment, I hear nothing but static, and the only ounce of comfort I have is that the screaming’s trailed off. For now.

“You have thirty minutes,” Vinny tells me. “If you’re a minute late, I’ll kill him and drape his body over your bed as a present for when you come home. ”

“Thirty minutes,” I repeat, sounding so damn hollow. “Thank you, Vinny...”

He hangs up, and time begins to tick again with mocking speed. I’m numb as I climb from the toilet with the phone clenched in my fist. I’m a ghost drifting through the air when I reenter the bedroom and spot Lucifer on the bed, still asleep.

My mouth opens...but no sound will come out.

Lynn may not be as brave as Daniela, but she isn’t stupid.

If I bring Dante or his men, Vinny will know.

.. Hell, I think he’s expecting it. Espi is a toy—but Dante is the real object of his rage.

Only God knows what he would do to him. He’d chop the devil into pieces and make me swallow them.

And Dante... There is no way in hell he wouldn’t fight for Espi. He would meet Vinny head on like a true beast, and he would die. He would die...and I would be forced to watch.

And I can’t. My soul is a fragile shell, and I know without a doubt that nothing would be left of it if this man dies because of me. My beautiful fallen angel wouldn’t miss one less lost soul, but he would never survive without Espi.

And preventing that is worth any sacrifice.

Vinny’s timeline is in my head as I grit my teeth and search the duffel for a fresh sweatshirt that isn’t covered in blood. In my search, I find another object I missed—a book of matches with a smiling cartoon moose on the front, and I can’t stop myself from tucking it into my pocket.

Espi . I have to bite the pain and guilt back as I stagger into the living room and cram my feet into my borrowed shoes. I leave the shower in the bathroom running and close the door, hoping that the ruse is enough to keep the devil off my trail for even a second.

That’s all I need.

When I creep into the main garage, the devil hasn’t stirred. It’s a silent trek out into the field where Mack’s men patrol the perimeter, but they’re lax this early, and none of them notice when I reach a section of fence and climb over.

Thirty minutes. Twenty. Ten.

The deadline spurs me onward while I run right back to the hell I knew deep in my soul I could never really escape.