Page 34

Scarlett

“‘Hi Scarlett, it’s Julian. Got your number from Skylar. Just wanted to make sure you’re going to be at the studio tomorrow. I know you said it’s none of my business, but I would like to talk to you about something.’ Doesn’t sound like just a friend, does it, Ruby?” Broody taunts.

Okay, apparently stealing me wasn’t enough. They also took my phone. Why would Julian be texting me, and why the hell would Skylar give him my number? I remember how he reacted when Julian kissed me, and there’s no way he would risk letting us talk privately.

“I told you, he’s just a friend I see at the studio sometimes. Wouldn’t we have each other’s numbers if we were together ?” I ask, tacking on a nasty, “Grow up.”

I haven’t seen the light—or anything for that matter—in two, maybe three days. The least of my worries is Julian having my phone number. I stink, I’ve been stuffed with two men’s jizz non-stop for days now, and I want to sleep in a damned bed. My arms fucking hurt.

“Do you wanna know what I think?” No. “I think, darling Ruby, we’ve been spoiling you, and it’s going to your head.” Casanova pinches my cheeks between his fingers. “I think it’s been a few days without your attitude being checked, and you’re forgetting who you belong to. ”

“Maybe,” I drawl, “that’s because you said you’d let me go if I admitted it…and I’m. Still. Here.” I rip my face to the side and evade his touch, but then there’s a long pause.

“Admit what, again?” Broody asks.

If I wasn’t blindfolded, my eyeroll would probably hit the way I mean it to, but alas. “You know what.”

“I want to hear you say it. Just one more time, and then we’ll let you go. Say it one more time, for real , and we’ll believe you,” Casanova whispers into the shell of my ear, stroking his finger against my ribs in a way that tickles so badly I start to squirm.

I thought I knew how I felt. I always think I know what I’m feeling, but then they draw me in like a fucking flame and I lose all sense of self. I don’t have to say the words—not for their sake, and not because they deserve it—but if I don’t say them aloud…if I just write them in my journal or overthink in my head, none of it is real.

Taking a deep breath, I force the words out. “I’m yours and no one else’s. I don’t like how you went about it most of the time, but yes, I want you like fucking crazy, even when I try not to.” I don’t know why I’m crying, but I’m glad they aren’t mocking me for it. “I hate that you hurt me to play some sick game, and I hate that you ruined probably the only good relationship I have in my life. I hate that I still want you, despite what you did. Yes, I’m yours. But I hate you, too.”

Another minute of silence—painful fucking silence—then the spreader falls, and I crumble to the ground. Casanova catches me, and I feel his warm chest against my cheek as his arms encircle my shoulders. Broody must have run over, because somebody is unlatching the buckles of my wrist restraints, finally freeing me from my prison.

They shove my arms through two tunnels of fabric and wrap it around my body, tightening it at the waist. A robe, most likely .

I don’t think I could stand if I wanted to, so Casanova scoops me up and holds me against his chest. Instinctually, my hands seek the proof of my wrath, tracing softly over the scabbed letters I marred him with.

“It’s not just that you’re ours, you know,” he says, low enough for me to hear because I’m so close, but probably too low for Broody. “We’re yours, too.”

It shouldn’t, but the notion brings a smile to my face. It’s the last thing I remember doing before I fall asleep.

A crash downstairs startles me awake.

My head is pounding, my arms ache like nobody’s business, and I’m so fucking tired I’d love nothing more than to crawl back under the covers and pass out again. I don’t though, sliding the blanket off me to sit up and check my phone for the time.

What the fuck?

It’s four in the damned morning, and somebody is outside my fucking house. I say somebody …because I hear Penelope snoring from across the hall like a fucking chainsaw, so it can’t possibly be her. And I know it’s not Casanova and Broody because they just brought me home and left immediately afterwards.

Sprinting to my closet, I snatch my phone from the nightstand on my way, then find something to wear. Call it my groggy, sex-drunk brain, or my complete lack of ability to put together a solid thought, but something draws me to my text app instead of the much obvious answer—calling the police.

I’ve never had to call 911 before and find out how long it takes for them to arrive, but I have had to answer to a different kind of authority…and I know exactly ho w quickly they can reach me.

What I’m about to do is even stupider than texting Skylar Cole after months of giving him the cold shoulder. I never did apologize to him for the way I acted after he warned me about Dario—not that he knew why I would eventually break up with him or even the things I already found odd about the relationship.

Whether he was just jealous or not, maybe he could have saved me from wasting a few weeks of Dario’s life.

My phone lights up with a text notification:

Hiding isn’t who I am anymore. Instead, I slowly creak open the balcony doors and look around, but I don’t see anything that stands out. The trees are still trees. The grass is still grass.

Then, I see something that’s definitely not supposed to be there—a man’s shadow. The figure creeps along the wall of the house until the light of the moon reveals his face. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Dario?” I call down to him, and his eyes shoot straight for mine. “What the fuck are you doing in my yard?”

A smile creeps onto his face, but he stumbles backwards and throws his arms out to the side when he screams, “ Diavolina , I have come to win you back.”

This motherfucker is going to wake up the entire goddamn neighborhood or worse—Penelope. “Don’t move! I’m coming down.” I throw a cardigan on, then carefully tiptoe downstairs, making sure Pen’s still snoring savagely.

I really don’t feel like watching Dario get beat up again, but if Skylar sees him here, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I don’t understand why he waited weeks to reach out to me if he wanted me back. I didn’t block his phone number, so I know he could have texted.

He must be drunk or high to think this is okay. I haven’t thought about it much, but his outburst at the diner should have proven what type of person he’s been from the start. He’s just another man who can’t take no for an answer, not unlike some other men I know…but that’s besides the point.

I make it to the last house in our row, but there’s no signs of life, so I turn the corner and start walking through the back area by the forest.

“Dario!” Still, there’s no answer.

Crack.

A branch snaps among the trees to my left so I carefully step towards the noise, but I don’t see anything. The only other sounds come from a few owls and chirping crickets.

“Dar—” A body darts out from the shadows and collides with me, a hand quickly cutting off my scream before I can cry out.

“Hello, my diavolina . Did you miss me?”

Dario slams my back against the tree he was hiding behind, the rough and cracked bark digging painfully into my sore back. My limbs are still so numb, and none of my muscles have recovered from their abuse over the past few days.

I shake my head frantically, but he presses further into me, his hot breath stinging my nostrils with the scent of beer. A rustling of leaves to our right has me hopeful that Skylar is here to save me, but a different man emerges. I don’t recognize him, though he bears a striking resemblance to Dario.

He must see the confusion on my face because he gives a chuckle at my panicked look. “One of my brothers,” he explains, “I told you about him, remember?”

I realize he’s actually expecting me to give an answer somehow, so I nod my head, turning back to meet his eyes.

“I’ve told him all about you, too. Isn’t that right, baby brother?” he asks, and the man nods in response with a malicious grin. “See, Renzo has expressed the desire to know more about you, diavolina . And you’re going to show him. ”

He’s not making any sense, and I have no idea where he’s going with this until the hand on my mouth disappears, returning a second later with a straight razor clasped between his fingers.

“I know you left me for those two pieces of shit, bellezza . I know you put on a red mask for them. I know you let them fucking kidnap you. I know you let them fuck you,” he spits out, slamming his fist into the tree above my head. “I know you didn’t run from them when you should have, but I’m going give you that chance. So run, diavolina , because when we catch you, we’re going to fucking ruin you.”

“Dario, pl—” I try to plead with him, but this isn’t a game like with Casanova and Broody. This is a threat.

“ Dieci, Nove, Otto…”

Not wasting another second, I shove his chest and sprint through the trees. My feet are bare, and I only have on some night clothes along with my cardigan, so I’m fucking freezing. My legs still don’t work properly, so I stumble with every stride, cursing Skylar for taking his sweet time. The ten seconds must be up by now—if he even bothered to finish the countdown—but it’s too dark to see anything beyond the few trees surrounding me. The new spring leaves are blocking the moonlight from shining through, so I’m on my own.

I can’t do this.

I’m going to die in these fucking woods, and Skylar will have been the last person I texted, and I’ll have gone weeks without talking to my best friend, and I’ll have never reached my dream to become a tattoo artist, and…if I die now, I’ll never see them again.

I’m not ready to die.

Dario doesn’t know that, or he doesn’t seem to care. Barreling into me, he sends me crashing to the ground before mounting my waist with the razor held to my throat.

I’m not going without a fight, though. If I’m going to die today, I’m taking him with me .

My hips buck wildly like a bronco trying to throw off its rider, and my nails rip at the skin of his arms and hands. My legs thrash out to get any kind of traction against the leaves and dirt to give me some sort of advantage here, but Dario is huge, and my body is weak.

Renzo rushes over to us, and when Dario orders him to grab my legs, the tears finally come. No matter how hard I push, shove, scratch, kick, or try to throw them off me, it’s not enough. Renzo manages to rip my shorts off and starts digging into the skin of my hips to get a grip on my panties, but a shouting in the distance distracts them.

“Go! Make sure no one comes this way, I’ll take care of it,” he commands his brother, and Renzo halts his efforts to run through the woods, back from where we came.

“You’ve become so much more of a problem than you’re worth, you know that? But you already soiled this for me once, and you’ve been marked, so there’s no letting it go.” Dario slices the razor across my collarbone and down my chest, forcing a scream to burst from my lungs. My fighting already caused the blade to cut into my neck a few times, but the adrenaline stopped me from feeling that. “Don’t cry now, Scarlett. I still have you until the summer solstice. Then, you’ll be free of all your worries.”

“Scarlett!” Someone calls through the trees, and it’s enough to make Dario spin around—finally giving me a moment of advantage.

I spot a decent sized rock near my shoulder, so I grab for it and immediately swing. It lands against his temple with a THUD , and just like that, his body rolls off me and falls to the dirt at my side.

In a sheer moment of overwhelming panic and anger, I hover over him and slam the rock against his head a few more times until I’m sure he must be dead. His body lies frozen, his knees still bent from straddling me and his arms limp at his side. An enormous gash across his brow is pouring dark red blood that would normally make me sick…

But I don’t mind blood. Not anymore .

Skylar finally arrives, panting loudly as he keels over in front of me to catch his breath. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” he asks, but I see his head spinning when he notices I have no pants on.

I reach out for him in an embrace I never thought we’d share again, wrapping my arms around his neck. He plops his ass on the ground and pulls me into his lap. “I’m alright…but I killed him I-I-I think.” I can barely get the words out because I’m shivering and pushing through the worst panic attack of my life.

“We killed the other guy, too,” he admits, hugging me back with one arm curled around my waist, the other stroking my hair. I’m confused at first what he means by ‘we,’ but then Julian comes through the trees—dragging Renzo’s body with him. “Jules! Give her your jacket.”

Julian approaches, his features grimacing at the state of me, though I’m thankful for him not saying anything to draw attention to it. He removes his coat and throws it around my shoulders, bending down to grab me by the waist and lift me to my feet.

This is almost more awkward than New Year’s dinner. We’re standing around a dead body in triangle-formation, nobody saying a word. I know I probably should have called the police before, but when I suggest doing so now, Skylar has an opinion.

“We can’t call the police, Scarlett. Nobody can know they’re dead.” He flashes Julian a look I can’t comprehend—whether it’s meant to be secretive or not—I’m just too fucked in the brain right now.

“He’s right. We’re going to have to bury the bodies. Nobody finds out about this. It didn’t happen, understand?” Julian turns to me for an answer.

“What are you talking about, Skylar?! We just killed two people. The police will know it was in self-defense. We just—”

“What the fuck were you doing with him anyway?” Skylar blurts. “I told you to stay away from him. ”

I’m fucking aghast. “Are you seriously victim-blaming me right now, you douchebag? Do you think I would have texted you if I invited him here? He fucking attacked me, you sick fuck!”

Stepping up to me, he towers over my frail, trembling body. “Right. But now, we have to bury two people because you didn’t fucking listen to me, Red. I warned you. I told you to stay away, and because you couldn’t do as you’re fucking told, we have to—”

The slap echoes through the trees so loudly, I imagine it like one of those movie scenes where a gunshot goes off and all the birds fly away.

When I hit him, his head turned all the way to the side, but now that he’s coming back towards me, I’m compelled to hit him again. I rear my hand back and let it fly, but he catches my wrist midair and yanks me into him.

“Don’t you ever fucking think about hitting me unless you want it reciprocated, Ruby, ” he sneers. I try to pull my arm away, but he won’t let go. His eyes are boring down on me—angrier than I’ve ever seen them.

“What did you just call me?”

“Sky—” Julian tries to intervene, but I’m focused on Skylar.

“What did you just call me? Why do you know that name?” I repeat.

“You heard me, Ruby. Don’t act so fucking surprised.” He grins, bringing his free hand to wrap around my throat. “I know you’ve always had your suspicions. It’s not my fault you chose to ignore them.”

The past eight months of my life flash before my eyes.

I remember every time I looked at Skylar or Julian and thought they could be comparable to Casanova and Broody—if only this or that was different about them. I remember insisting it had to be Skylar who put the Post-it on my mirror at Dad’s place. I remember confronting him, but he somehow turned the tables, and I fucking slept with him instead.

I remember everything .

“No.” Even now, denial tastes much sweeter than the truth. He still won’t let go, no matter how hard I try to push him off. “It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m not helping you bury them. I’m calling the police.”

Skylar backs me into a tree, his fingers still tight around my throat. “You’re not. Because if you do, we’re taking you down with us.”

“You have blood on your hands, Scarlett,” Julian steps up to us, leaning his hand against the tree next to my head. “You don’t understand this yet, but you’re in danger. Either we bury these bodies so nobody finds out, or we send you to prison where we know you’ll be safe. I’d much rather you have your freedom, but it’s your call.”

Danger from what? Did we not just kill the danger?

“H-he said…” I fight to speak through this mongrel fucking strangling me, but when Julian taps his shoulder, Skylar lightens up. “He said something about the solstice and me being marked. What does that mean?”

The boys share another cryptic glance.

“It means they’re coming for you, no matter what,” Julian sighs, dropping his head in defeat.

“Who?” I ask, but neither of them answer me. “Who’s coming for me?!”

Skylar pauses for a moment, the hand choking me just moments ago instead coming up to stroke my cheek with tender knuckles. His eyes shift out of their anger and into something else entirely.

Sadness? Remorse?

Nothing good.

“Adérfia Aímatos—the Brothers in Blood.”