Page 36 of Stained In Sin (The Twisted Trilogy #1)

Dante

I’m on the side of the abandoned building. The dust and mold fill the air around me. Lucien stands behind me, waiting for my lead.

We are taking out a handful of rats that were feeding Bastian intel. Usually, Lucien stays back and handles the deals, but I convinced him to get his hands dirty.

We hold our guns drawn, ready to assassinate the fucking scum lurking on the inside. I check both sides, ensuring no one is on the outside, and we proceed to the back entrance.

I push the door open silently, looking down the corridor. Lights flicker, and rats gather in the corner. Fucking nasty.

I wave to Lucien, and he follows closely behind me. Our steps are silent and calculated.

A man comes into view at the end of the hallway. I take my shot. The bullet goes straight through his head, brain matter splattering on the wall behind him.

We slide against the wall, slipping into a room to have cover in case he wasn’t alone. The silence stretches longer, and no one comes. I peer out of the room and see a gun aimed at the back door. I slip back into the room, nodding to Lucien. He swiftly aims and shoots. He hit the ma n in the chest.

He drops to his knees, still gripping his gun.

Lucien doesn’t kill often, but I do.

I swiftly pull the trigger, putting a bullet in his head.

The man topples over, and silence follows.

We continue to make our way down the hall—two down, three to go.

The staircase to the right is rickety and falling apart, but I hear the faint footsteps coming from above. I hold up my hand to Lucien, telling him to stay back to cover me.

I move up the stairs, trying to step on the solid pieces of the board.

One of them gives out and snaps, but I’m quicker. I plant my foot on the next step and continue to the top. Once I’m at the top, I see a figure move into the room at the end of the hall, but I’m not fucking stupid.

I clear the rooms one by one.

I step into the first room, and a man rushes me, crashing his gun across my face. Pain explodes in my jaw. I taste the blood in my mouth as I shove him back and aim, shooting the motherfucker dead.

I move on to the next room. It’s clear.

The last room is where the remaining men await their fate. I step into the final room, gun drawn, but the window is open. I peer out the window and see two men taking off on foot. I don’t waste any time.

I aim my gun and shoot.

I kill the first man with a headshot. The second man keeps running. He is too far for me to take the shot. I bolt out of the room, running down the broken stairs.

Lucien follows me, understanding that we need to fucking go. I pick up the pace; my steps are heavy. The building rests in the middle of a field, and there are tons of places to fucking run. Fuck.

We keep running. My arms and legs are moving like a machine. I see the man up ahead, and I aim. Not caring how fucking far away I am. He looks over his shoulder, and I lock up. Damien .

Lucien catches up to me, panting.

“What the fuck man. Why didn’t you shoot?”

I stare blankly ahead of me. How the fuck is Damien Crowe alive?

I turn around, storming back to the car. What the fuck.

We parked in a clearing to the west of the house, the opposite way from where we were chasing him down.

My fists clenching and my mind swimming with thoughts. It can’t be him. I’m just fucking crazy.

We reach the car and I get in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. I grip the steering wheel tightly as my jaw ticks.

“Jesus Christ, man. What happened?”

I sit, wondering how the fuck I am going to tell him that I was chasing down his dead brother.

The file my father gave me had a location and the descriptions of five men. We only had names for two of them. The rest are guilty by association. So why the fuck is Damien running around with fucking rats. He’s supposed to be fucking dead. I was at the fucking funeral.

I don’t say anything to Lucien. I speed away, not looking back. Whatever he is doing is going to get himself killed— killed for real.

* * *

I stop at Astra’s house to pick up Evelyn and drop off Lucien. He was pretty fucking pissed I wouldn’t tell him anything. I’m just glad he isn’t a faster runner. If he saw him, I know he would have never stopped running.

He always hated his brother. Didn’t even go to the funeral. I think he now has a guilty conscience about it. His brother was always his father ’s favorite. Lucien was always the afterthought. No matter how much he claimed to have hated his brother, I know he misses him.

Evelyn climbs into my car, giggling at something Astra just said. Her door closes, and she stares at me with heavy eyes.

“Are you drunk?”

“Mmm….Yes,” a laugh erupts from her tiny frame.

I smile at her. The shy, timid girl I met at Club Muse doesn’t exist anymore. She is fucking wild— as I knew she would be.

She buckles herself in and I place my hand on her thigh, reminding her that she is fucking mine. She grabs my hand and moves it closer to her center.

She licks her lips. Her eyes full of need.

I pull my hand back to where it was. If she keeps looking at me like that I will fuck her right here. I don’t give a fuck if I’m parked in front of her friend’s house or not.

She makes a pouting face as I put the car in drive.

We listen to music the entire drive home, and she is singing— no. Screaming along to the songs. She is a terrible fucking singer. I rate it a 0/10. The only flaw I have found.

I park the car, and she stumbles out of the car, nearly running headfirst into my Ducati.

I quickly rush over to her and scoop her up into my arms. She weighs practically nothing.

We stand in the elevator, and she traces my neck tattoos with her fingers.

“Would you let me carve my name into you?”

Her question surprises me. She has a pretty weak stomach, and I didn’t think the thought would ever even cross her mind.

“Yes.”

I don’t hesitate with my response. I would gladly fucking bleed for her.

“W-why?” Her voice is soft and filled with a sense of curiosity.

I step into my bedroom and place her on the edge of the bed. I slide a knife out of my nightstand and hand it to her. She holds it in her shaky palm.

“Because. I belong to you.”

Her eyes search mine for answers as if I didn’t give her a good enough explanation. I grab her wrist, stepping into her. Letting the tip of the knife nip the skin above my heart.

“I will kill for you. I will bleed for you. And I will fucking die for you.”

She pulls the knife back, and her watery lashes flutter.

I tilt her chin up and stare into the depths of her soul. She is the crack in my armor.

“I’m yours.”