Page 142 of Crescendo

“You went back to him,” the devil spits out at the ceiling,broaching the topic that I suppose has festered between us since the morning I left him at Mack’s. “That fucking bastard. You went back to him.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I hear myself say, though do I truly believe that? I damn well had a choice—I just made the one that worked in his favor. The act didn’t make me a saint—in fact, it made me more corrupt than any fallen angel.

I willingly traded my soul for the devil.

“The fuck you didn’t,” he snarls. “I would have gotten Espi back on my own—”

“He would have killed you.” I let the words hang, but when I hear his mouth open, I reach for his hand and dig my nails into the scarred, callused surface. The remains of our promise leave an ugly mark across his palm, identical to the one on mine. “He would havekilledyou,” I croak, surprised that he doesn’t try to pull away—not that I could let him go. “He would have made me watch. And I couldn’t... Icouldn’t.”

I’ve stabbed a man to death. Had sex with a stranger on camera. My soul has been stained black with so many crimes, but I couldn’t bear to watchhimdie. Maybe that makes me a coward, worse than Vinny. He was sadistic. I’m selfish.

Dante wrenches his hand from my grip only to turn the tables by seizing my wrist so tightly that the bones compact. “So you figured it was easier to let me watch you die,” he says in that dangerous, unsteady octave.

“It wasn’t how I thought,” I croak out when he doesn’t say anything else. “Killing him. I thought...I thought it would be easier to...” Move on? Look at my future with Espi at the helm and magically heal like every other damsel in distress did at the end of her fairy tale? Some days, I even longed for that simple, easy bliss. Lynn used to pray for it.

But now...

“Killing him wasn’t enough, Dante. Not when there are a million other bastards waiting to take his place. I want...” I scanthe ceiling once again while the weight of those two words settles over my tongue.I want. A fancy music school or peace aren’t enough to satisfy this new creature born in the ashes of Vinny’s destruction. “I want to ruin everything he’s ever built so that no one can claim it. Ineedto.”

The devil stirs beside me, dragging himself upright, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “So, what? You think you can just go back and take on fuckers like Mack on your own?”

“I heard what Arno told you,” I admit. They may have been brothers, but even the closest of family didn’t enjoy sharing power. “And you have Espi to look after. This isn’t your problem—”

“Damn it. Get up.”

I blink as Dante rises to his feet and draws his jeans back up. He took his shirt off, however, and I catch a glimpse of the silvery scars left on his torso.

“Now,” he snaps when I haven’t moved. “Get up.”

Wincing, I obey and follow him up the stairs, into the small bathroom. When he flicks the switch, the artificial light washes over our bodies, casting the blood on his arm in stark relief—not that he bothers to even wince as he cuts the shower on. We take turns bathing, and when I’m done, he leaves for a minute only to return with clothes fished from my duffel. The lilac sweater and the dark jeans make for a strange armor against the uncertainty.

In silence, we return downstairs, and the devil opens the front door, marshaling me out onto the front stoop—though we leave my bag behind.

Darkness paints the quiet neighborhood gray, almost swallowing the black truck idling alongside the curb. When Lucifer pulls the passenger’s side door open, I recognize the driver and my heels promptly dig into the pavement.

“It’s all right,” the devil claims while Gino stares dead ahead, his hands on the steering wheel.

“Evening, Ms. Manzano,” he greets me, but I can’t seem tomove until the devil climbs in first, jerking his chin for me to follow.

“It’s all right,” Dante repeats, and I climb onto the back seat.

The moment I close the door behind me, Gino starts driving.

“You make sure he’s secure?” Dante asks him, his voice gruff.

“Of course.” Gino shrugs without taking his gaze off the road. There’s an ease to his posture that wasn’t there around Vinny. Hell, he almost seems relaxed as he blends into the trickle of late-night traffic. “Yourfriendhid him well, but not well enough.”

“Good,” Dante grunts, flexing his hands in and out of fists. “I hope the fucker’scomfortable.”

“Who?”

Gino ignores me, but Dante glances back, and the dangerous gleam in his eye...

It’s terrifying.

It’s beautiful.

“Stacatto didn’t get lucky,” he says. “Someone sold out Espi. I know who.”