Page 14 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

T he gunfire has stopped, but I can’t stop pacing. My hands tremble, and I’m biting my lip out of habit, but I can’t help it. I’m worried sick about Mia. I tried calling her, but she’s not answering.

She’s down there, she—God, what if she’s hurt? I don’t even want to think about it. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know what’s going on. Just as my hand reaches for the door, it flies open. I reel back, bracing for one of the shooters—But it’s Luca.

Relief crashes over me so fast, I don’t think—I just move. I throw myself into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, rising on my tiptoes to hug him.

“Oh, thank God…” His body goes rigid. He doesn’t hug me back. Reality slams into me, and I realize my mistake. I quickly released him, stepping back.

His brow is furrowed tight like he’s furious, and my touch only made it worse. I step back mouthing sorry

“We have to go. Now,” he says, flat and cold.

Before I can respond, he grabs my arm and pulls me through the door. The workers are scrambling about, murmuring things I can’t quite catch over the noise.

I want to stop, ask one of them if anyone’s hurt, if they’ve seen Mia, if she’s okay but Luca doesn’t stop dragging me along. And I doubt he will, even if I beg to check on my friend.

We exit through the back door. He doesn’t release my hand until we reach a sleek, black car with tinted windows. He opens the passenger door.

“Get in.”

I hesitate, stepping back. After what I just witnessed tonight, I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with this man. He’s dangerous. Before I can think of an escape, the back of my head bumps against his chest. I freeze. I turn slightly, our eyes locking.

“Now,” he says, low and final like his word is law and testing his patience would be a mistake.

I quickly slid into the seat. He shuts the door with a firm click and walks around to the driver’s side, slipping in beside me without another word.

He swerves out of the parking lot, the tires screeching against the pavement. If not for the seatbelt and his big hand bracing in front of me, I might have flown out of my seat.

“Where do you stay?” he asks, eyes on the road.

“Um…” I hesitate. I don’t want him to know where I live. “You can just drop me off at the nearest bus stop. I can handle myself from there.” He growls, low and sharp.

“Woman, don’t test my patience, you'll find out I have none.”

I swallow hard and quickly give him my address. He punches it into the GPS without a word. I relaxed a little. At least I know where he’s taking me, not to some unknown place to do Lord knows what.

Luca is quiet as he drives. His hands are steady on the wheel, his posture relaxed, but I can see the tension simmering beneath the surface. His jaw keeps clenching, tight with barely contained rage.

I keep glancing at him, unsure if it’s the right time to ask. But curiosity and worry win out. Finally, he catches one of my looks and exhales sharply.

“What is it?”

My words spill out in a rush. “What happened? Why did the shooting start?” He pauses for a long moment, and I start to think he won’t answer.

“It was the Italian mob,” he finally says, voice low. “They’re trying to mess with us.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like the word Italian mobs are just another part of a normal Wednesday.

“And that’s all you need to know,” he adds, like a full stop I shouldn’t cross.

I nod, but my mind screams. I don’t want to know more. God, I wish I hadn’t asked. I wish I hadn’t walked in on that scene earlier.

I wish I hadn’t seen them dragging that bag—And I know it wasn’t animal blood I saw dripping from it, no matter how much I try to lie to myself. I shift in my seat, trying not to fidget, but my body’s betraying me—sweaty palms, shallow breaths, a wild thumping in my chest.

The only best friend I have might be hurt. Luca is in the mob. The father of my child is the head of the mob. What the hell have I done to deserve this?

I want to ask him if he’s killed someone before, but I don’t. I’m not sure I could handle the answer. This is all so messed up. I never planned for this.

All I wanted was a stable job so I could afford Noah’s treatments. So, he could get a donor. So, he could get better. So, we could just… live.

Not this. Not mob wars and blood-soaked secrets. I place a hand over my chest, willing my heartbeat would just settle, it feels like the seat belt is digging into my chest and I know it’s not tight.

It’s extremely hard to concentrate with different thoughts going through my head. He flicks a glance at me, then back to the road.

“Take slow, deep breaths.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“You’re hyperventilating.”

I am. He’s right. I sound like an asthmatic pug gasping through panic. I slump against the seat and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to inhale through my nose, exhale through my mouth. It doesn’t work. I open my mouth again. “The police—”

“If they contact you, don’t speak to them,” Luca says, his voice hard but calm. “You didn’t see or hear anything. And if you try—”

He glances at me again, then back at the road. A chill rolls over me and I remember. Claudia’s voice. I know where your family lives.

That killing look in her eyes. It was the first time I’d ever felt real fear. The kind that crawls under your skin and stays there. Is he about to threaten me, too?

My body suddenly goes cold, and it’s not from the air conditioning. But then he speaks again, and his tone is different—less threat, more warning.

“You’re not legally obligated to talk to them. No matter what they say or threaten. You have the constitutional right to remain silent, even if you’re arrested or in jail.”

My stomach twists.

“Wait, what do you mean if I’m arrested? Am I going to jail?”

He exhales like I’m missing the point.

“That’s only an example. They won’t arrest you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harboring a criminal is wrong, my inner voice whispers. And you are one. But I don’t say that out loud. We drive in silence for a while before screeching to a stop in front of my house.

I quickly hop out of the car, muttering, “Thanks for the ride,” without waiting for a reply. My legs move faster than my thoughts, carrying me to the front door. I reach up for the spare key I keep tucked above the frame, my hands trembling.

My bag and house keys are still back at the club and the last thing I was to do is go back there now. I unlock the door and just as I’m about to push it open, I feel him behind me. That weight.

That presence. I turn slowly. He’s standing close, too close, towering over me with that unreadable look in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to sound firm.

“What does it look like?” he replies smoothly.

“I thought you’d be on your way by now,” I pressed.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing like I’ve just amused him.

“Why? You impatient for me to leave?” His voice is low, dark—dangerous.

That stare—God—makes me want to disappear. I can’t let him inside. Not with pictures of Noah plastered all over the living room. Luca would recognize him in an instant. Same blue eyes. Same birthmark on the neck.

I swallow hard, and my mouth suddenly dries. I try to keep my expression neutral, my guilt hidden. He steps closer.

“You plan on calling the cops the second I drive off?”

“No! No,” I say quickly, waving my hands. “I wouldn’t—”

“Look around you, kitten,” he interrupts. “My men are watching.”

I glance down the block, and sure enough a matte black Cadillac Escalade sits parked a few houses down. It doesn’t belong here. Too clean. Too expensive. Too out of place.

When did they get there? Were we followed the whole time? A chill races down my spine.

“If you try anything funny…” he murmurs, letting the threat hang in the air.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabs the back of my neck, and kisses me. Hard. Possessive. Final. I just stand there stunned, breathless—my hands still gripping the doorknob. He pulls back just slightly, his breath hot on my lips.

“Goodnight, kitten. And don’t forget, your new job starts tomorrow.”

I nod automatically, not trusting my voice. He opens the door for me like a gentleman, then turns and walks back to his car. I slip inside and shut the door behind me. And only then, in the silence of my living room, do I let myself fall apart.