Page 39 of Devil's Azalea

I whimper, digging my nails into concrete until they crack and bleed as I struggle forward once more.

Then a cold, meaty hand wraps around my ankle, making me shriek.

I’m yanked back violently, and I scream bloody murder as pain explodes through my body.

This is it. This is how I die. This is how I?—

The scene shifts abruptly, and now I’m standing up, the pain gone. But there’s a gun pressed to my temple.

“I’ll shoot you.” The voice is dark and menacing and curls all around me—but I recognize it as Rafael’s. “You betrayed me, piccola. Broke the omertà. And the punishment for that… is death.”

Before I can beg or plead or explain, the trigger clicks, and BANG?—

I jolt upright in bed, gasping, heart punching through my chest. My legs are all tangled up in the sheets, my body drenched in sweat, and my hands shake as I wipe my forehead.

I glance around my bedroom, disoriented and terrified.

“Lamp. Picture frame. Desk. Books. Sunlight.” My heartbeat gradually slows as reality reasserts itself.

Fuck. I haven’t had that nightmare in years.

I thought I’d finally buried the horror of that night when I was sixteen—the night Rafael, Michael, Romero, and Maximo saved me from those monsters. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to ditch Lana, the shrink Stacey made me see.

I glance towards the window, wincing at the bright sunlight streaming in.

It must be mid-morning already. I kick away the sweat-soaked sheets and wobble to the bathroom where I brush my teeth, washing away the cottony taste from my mouth before stepping under another scalding shower until I feel human again.

“Finally. The sleeping beauty rises,” Katie remarks dryly as I emerge from my room. She sips from her coffee mug, studying me over the rim with eyes that miss nothing.

“Can I have some of that?” I don’t wait for her permission before snatching the mug from her hand and draining the contents in three desperate gulps. The bitter liquid burns a path down my throat and hits my bloodstream like lightning. I shudder. “You sadistic psychopath. How do you drink this battery acid?”

“Hey!” she protests, glaring. “I didn’t force you to chug it like you’ve been wandering the desert for twenty years.” Her expression softens. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I carry her mug to the coffee pot on the kitchen island and refill it with more of the pitch-black caffeine before returning it. She accepts it wordlessly, but her eyes never leave mine, probing, assessing until I crack. “I just had a nightmare.”

She nods like she already figured that much out. She knows how horrible my nightmares used to be. Until ten years ago. Until Rafael pulled me from the darkness only to cast me back into it.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, not really.” I shrug and sink into the chair across from her.

“Well, I think I have something that might cheer you up.” Her lips curve into a sly smile as she gets up and disappears into her room. A moment later, she returns holding a bouquet of pink azaleas and a small pink box.

My stomach drops to my toes.

“Spill. I need to know everything. Are you seeing someone?” she demands, setting both items on the table in front of me. “Because these came in for you this morning.”

Even before touching the small envelope tucked among the blossoms, I know exactly who sent them. After last night, thelastthing I expected from Rafael were flowers—and what’s that… a jewelry box?

What game is he playing at now?

12

RAFAEL

I study my reflection in the mirror, zeroed in on the brown band-aid slapped over my left arm. Fortunately, it’s just a flesh wound—the bullet merely kissed my skin. Nothing that won’t heal in a week. Still, a flicker of pride blooms in my chest as I remember the hard as flint look in Emilia’s eyes when she pulled the trigger.

My girl.