Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
My fist flew before I could even tell my body to restrain itself.
Because it was Eden.
Because it could have put her in danger.
Because it could have broken her heart.
From the very fucking grave he rested in.
Men moved out of the way as my left hand followed my fist, grabbing onto his pristine black collar and tugging him across the floor until I was near the only wall that didn’t have books displayed.
I kicked him in the stomach, sending him into the drywall, his head knocked back with a resounding crack. I caught Marco as his body slumped forward and punched him again, this time in the nose. Blood instantly started spurting down his lips.
He stumbled next to the bookcase, trying to get his bearings, and knocked over a vase that was placed on the second shelf. It crashed to the floor.
“Hope that wasn’t a family heirloom,” I said, reaching for him again, knocking my head against his twice before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“Meh.” Andrei waved his hand. “It’s replaceable. Do continue.”
I shoved Marco to the ground and put my heel on his throat.
“Motherfucker, next time you won’t be so lucky.” I spat in his face, pulling my foot away, then adjusted my shirt, tucking it back into my trousers; I cracked my knuckles.
I stepped over the body. “Always a pleasure, Andrei.”
“That was him being lucky?” someone whispered under their breath.
My lips twitched.
“They say he’s both lover and fighter, sinner not saint. Take a look around, gentleman,” Andrei exclaimed. “And remember, to piss off a Sinacore is to sign your own death sentence.”
I hesitated at the door, turned, and nodded my head at Andrei, earning a respectful nod back as I made my way through the club.
A sense of peace washed over me.
The last remaining piece of evidence would be dealt with.
The men saw what would happen if they fucked up.
And my blood lust was cooled—for now.
I spent the rest of the day working, making sure Tristian’s tracks were covered. Day quickly turned night by the time I was walking through Eden’s front door. She was standing there with a black apron covering an enticing knit black dress. Leaning over the table.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her smile as she adjusted the food like a pretty picture.
It was suddenly ruined by a loud screaming at the top of Naz’s lungs that he nearly starved to death, but I still smiled at the scene.
At what should have been.
Could have been.
What I fucking gave up.
And for what?
A dead brother?
An equally dead heart?
I wondered in that moment what it would take to earn a seat in that pretty picture.
Or if it was too late altogether for a man like me, a sinner like me, to sit with the saints.
No, not saints…
Angels.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“The Villains are all parts of me. For years I’ve been wondering what it would be like if all these negative elements were forced onto the main character’s side. I can understand a character with that kind of anger.” —Hayao Miyazaki
Eden
Naz was clapping his hands in glee, then did a little knuckle dab with me like I taught him before pulling out his seat to grab his orange juice. “Mama, do you think that Uncle—”
The door clicked shut with Romeo walking in, his jaw clenched, eyes averted for the first time in, maybe ever. He was watching the table, maybe the food? Was it because he was hungry, or was it something else?
I’d wanted to apologize for the other day when he walked in with all the blood. Was it ironic that tonight he was covered in more?
How was that even physically possible?
He leaned against the door in a way that reminded me a bit of Tristian early on. How I used to look forward to him coming home after a long day at work. I remember thinking that it was enough. I’d been in love with Romeo, but I’d started to love Tristian in a way I didn’t love his brother; the guilt had slowly dissipated as we found out we were pregnant, and then all of a sudden, things started to shift after Naz was born.
He had changed.
I stayed the same.
I made the meals.
I waited for him to come home with that same smile on his face and was welcomed with dark circles under his eyes and secrets he refused to tell.
“Looks good.” Romeo cleared his throat and awkwardly walked into the room, both hands clenched into tight fists with stains of blood that I knew were most likely a mix of his own and someone else’s. “I’ll just go wash up.”
“Is this going to be a habit?” I asked as he walked past me.
He froze, lowering his head like he was ashamed, and whispered, “The blood. Absolutely. I’ll hurt anyone who threatens you.”
I sucked in a breath; he kept walking.