First Comes Blood by Lilith Vincent

10

Chiara

Dad. He’s the one who deserves to die.

I see him again, stepping out of the house clutching Lorenzo’s knife in his grip and approaching Mom as she stood by the side of the pool and wept.

She never even saw him coming.

With four ruthless men in the house, Dad was the one to kill her.

I step closer to Salvatore, and automatically, my hands smooth up his chest to wrap around his neck. It’s dangerous to ask a man like Salvatore for anything, but he’s promised to protect me like a husband, and this is what I want from him.

It’s the only thing I want.

“Please kill Dad for me,” I whisper. “I have no way to pay you other than with what Dad’s already offered you, but if you do this for me then I…” I falter over promising him the one thing that I can offer that he cares about. “I…”

I can do this. For Mom’s sake. I swallow hard.

“I’ll marry you without…resisting. I’ll do what you want.”

Salvatore’s eyes narrow. “You’re going to do that anyway. Don’t bargain with what’s already mine.”

He doesn’t understand. I’m not just talking about what happens between us on paper.

I step a little closer until I’m pressed tight against his chest, and my heart starts to pound. I’m just acting, trying to convince him to do what I desperately need him to do, but the line between pretense and reality is razor thin.

“But the way I’ll be yours, doesn’t that matter to you? Wouldn’t you rather have me willingly when the time comes? Wouldn’t you rather I—”

Wanted you.

Desiredyou.

“Wouldn’t you rather I was grateful to you?”

I’m promising him more than my virginity if he kills my father. I’ll make it good for him. I’ll make him believe I’m enthusiastic about letting him take me to bed. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Salvatore is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. Even now, standing in his arms with murder on my mind, my heart is pounding against his chest.

Salvatore laughs softly. “Baby, you think you won’t want me on our wedding night? You think you’ll have to fake anything?” He ducks his head and puts his lips against my ear. “I could make you come right here with a few words and one finger, and there’s nothing you could do stop me. Pin you with one arm against my body and drive my hand down into your panties. Rub your clit fast while I whisper what a horny girl you are for your husband-to-be.”

Heat ripples up my body and my eyes nearly flutter closed. I’ve never not reacted to Salvatore when he’s touched me. Just his lips against my ear are enough to make my knees weak.

“Please,” I whisper, and then realize it sounds like I’m begging him to do just that. “Please do this one thing for me. I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

He’s killed people before, I’m sure. What’s one more?

A sepulchral voice speaks from the shadows. “My own daughter.”

I turn and see Dad walking slowly down the hall toward us. My arms drop from Salvatore’s neck as pure hatred fills my heart.

“My own daughter would betray me like this. There’s a special place in hell for children who try to destroy their parents.”

“What about husbands who kill their wives?” I seethe.

Dad gives a humorless laugh. “I doubt it. Wife-killing is so common it’s barely even a crime anymore. I’m sure you’ll find out the same thing in time if you don’t learn your place.”

Dead in the pool like Mom.

Dad glances at Salvatore and back at me. “You little slut, trying to use your body to bargain for vengeance.”

My chest feels so tight it’s hard to breathe. Dad heard everything Salvatore and I were saying to each other. I want to crumple up and die. “If I had a gun or knew how to do it, I’d—”

Salvatore grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my face until its upturned toward his. “Don’t.”

His eyes are boring into mine, but he doesn’t look angry. He looks alarmed.

I grab his wrist and claw him with my nails, yelling at him to let me go. I wrest my hair from his grip.

“My mother!” I scream at Dad, chest heaving. “You killed my mother. You should be rotting in jail for what you’ve done.”

I’ve lost all self-control. The world has turned red and I want nothing more than to watch Dad bleed. To make him die, or at the very least make him hurt as much as I’m hurting.

I hurl myself at Dad, screaming, and he lifts his hand and strikes me across the face. I go flying off to one side, my vision black and my eyes stinging. I find myself on my knees, my palms pressed against the tiles.

“Get out of here, Salvatore. I need to discipline my daughter.”

“No.” Salvatore steps in front of Dad, and for a moment I think it’s to protect me. “She’s going to be my wife. I’ll discipline her.”

Salvatore grasps my upper arm and yanks me to my feet. He marches me over to the living room and slams the door behind us.

“Get your hands off me,” I pant, struggling in his grip. He grasps my other arm and shoves me against the wall, and pushes his furious face into mine.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” he seethes.

“Let me go.”

Salvatore slams his palm against the wall, right by my head, and roars in my face, “The next thing I hit will be you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

I flinch and stop struggling.

“You’re threatening the man who can end your life and wash his hands of guilt like that. Did you learn nothing the night of your seventeenth birthday?”

“I hate him,” I sob. “I hate him so much. He got away with murder. You don’t know what it’s like, seeing him walking around this town after what he did to Mom.”

“Sure, I don’t know what that’s like,” he growls.

Oh, yes. His murdered sister and the crime still unsolved. He doesn’t know who killed her but it must still hurt. His heart must ache for her, day and night.

“If you’re going to be my husband, shouldn’t you be protecting me from him?”

“I don’t have to do anything, you little idiot. Do you think I owe you any favors? Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than fret about one unpunished murder? Your mother should have known better.”

“Why? Why should she have known better? She was the mayor’s wife, not a mafia wife.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Your father may not have been a criminal when she married him, but I doubt she was so stupid that she didn’t guess that all the pretty things in her life cost more than his salary.”

“Then should I have seen it? I never realized there was anything dangerous about my father until that night.”

“I don’t know. Should you?” Salvatore gives me a challenging look, and then steps back and rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s pointless beating yourself up about what you did and didn’t realize. Your mom did her best to protect you from what she knew. That was a fucking stupid thing to do.”

His words are a punch in the gut. My mother was stupid for loving me like she did? “You know what? I hate you almost as much as Dad.”

“No kidding.” For a moment his eyes are bleak. Despite his cruel words, some part of him feels sorry for me. It must be a very small part, though, as a moment later, his expression hardens. “This is your life, Chiara. You want something changed, you fix it yourself.” He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “Grow the fuck up. Harden up. Do what needs to be done and don’t fucking cry about it.”

My head pounds as he shakes me and I try and fight him off. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, I am, but your destiny is to be surrounded by men like me, so learn from this moment. You’ll thank me later if I’m not there to protect you.”

I suck in a startled breath. What does that mean? Salvatore’s going to abandon me? Or he could be killed. He’s got enough enemies.

I get a sudden, vivid picture of someone slitting his throat in front of me like Dad slit Mom’s. It could happen. It could even be likely. I wrap my arms around my stomach and moan. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.

Salvatore grasps my chin and makes me look at him, but not in an unkind way. “Listen to me, Chiara. You’re tougher than you think you are.” With his other arm, he gathers me closer to him. He even smiles a little. “Did you know, I expected you to scream or faint the moment I kissed you on your birthday.”

Not kiss him back. Not stare him down when he pulled away to show him I couldn’t be intimidated even though my stomach was churning.

His mouth slants over mine, and I taste salt on his lips. Salt from my tears. His rich, masculine scent washes over me, and I find myself breathing harder as his tongue moves against mine. His hand slides up into my hair and cradles my head as he kisses me.

“You like my kisses, Chiara?” he murmurs, his lips brushing over mine. “Maybe I’m an asshole, but I want you to live. So fucking kiss me so I know you’re still breathing.”

I do as he demands, opening my lips and pressing them over his.

I’m so crazy for wanting him.

Or I’m just crazy with wanting him.

We’re both breathing hard when he breaks away. “Now go out there and apologize to your father, and make it good or I really will punish you.”

I take a step toward the door and then turn back. “After we’re married, will you kill him for me?”

Salvatore puts his hand in his pockets and leans against the wall, smiling broadly. The devil’s own smile, bright and dazzling. “I can promise you this, Chiara. Anyone hurts my woman, I’ll make them bleed.”

Which doesn’t mean yes.

I shouldn’t feel disappointed when I know Salvatore is only marrying me because I’m the mayor’s daughter. The mayor’s virgin daughter. “And if I’m not a virgin anymore by the time our wedding comes around? Will you still marry me then?”

The smile drops from his face and his eyes turn black. “What are you talking about?”

They all seem so obsessed with my virginity. It makes me wish I’d lost it years ago.

“Let’s get one thing straight. This,” he says, grasping my throat with one hand and pushing the satin of my dress between my legs and cupping my pussy with the other, “is mine, and don’t you fucking forget it. Now, do as you’re told.”

He releases me with a push and I go out into the hall where my father is waiting. He has a nasty, expectant expression and I want nothing more than to scream and try to hit him again.

“I’m sorry I asked Salvatore to harm you,” I say, forcing the hateful words over my lips. Dad doesn’t react. He just goes on staring at me.

I glance at Salvatore and he makes a go on gesture.

My mouth fills with an acrid taste. “I respect your authority in this house. I’ll be an obedient daughter from now on.”

Dad glances at Salvatore and drawls, “Nice work, Fiore. You pulled my daughter right back into line.”

“It’s what I do,” Salvatore replies, and his smirk prickles up my spine. They’re talking about me like I’m a naughty child.

Anger surges through me so strong that I can feel my ankles trembling in my high heels. Before I can fall apart in front of these two hateful men, I turn and walk up the stairs and into the solitude of my bedroom.

I grab a pillow off my bed and scream into it until I can’t breathe. I want him dead. I want him dead. It’s obscene that he gets to walk around smiling and living while Mom lays butchered in a cold grave. No one cares that her killer roams free. Not the police, not the people of Coldlake who professed to love their mayoress so much, and not Salvatore Fiore, who gets exactly what he wants now that Mom’s not standing in his way.

Salvatore’s not going to get what he wants if I have anything to say about it, and neither is Dad.

I take off my makeup with a cotton pad and give my teeth a swift brush before crawling into bed and hauling the covers up over my head. I want to give into a long bout of angry sobbing. I can feel the tears crowding at the back of my throat, ready to burst forth in a great storm of pain. For Mom. For myself.

But tears don’t solve anything. I can’t expect anyone to fix my life for me. I swallow them down, and use their pain to hone my focus.

I can’t reason with people who are power-hungry and ruthless, and I can’t offer something that they could easily take for themselves. Salvatore has power, and knows how to leverage it. I just have to discover my own power, and then use it to get what I want.

* * *

One month later

“So I told Mr. Spears, if he doesn’t let me do extra extra credit, then my father will come down to this school. That changed his mind.”

With a glossy acrylic nail, Rosaline cracks open a can of diet soda and takes a sip.

The other two girls nod approvingly and tell Rosaline that she’s absolutely right to fight for her grades when it’s her future on the line.

As I take a bite out of my tuna sandwich, I notice someone staring at me from across the cafeteria.

Nicole. Her expression is a mix of longing and apprehension. We haven’t talked since she dumped me as a friend. She glances at the girls I’m sitting with, and her lips press together with disapproval.

I chew with difficulty and swallow the bite of sandwich. I didn’t set out to make new friends. Rosaline, Sophia and Candace gravitated toward me. Welcomed me. Took away my crushing loneliness. I always thought of them as smart girls, but too edgy for me. They talk back to teachers and will shred anyone in the halls who bumps into them or dares to catcall them in the street.

They’re tough. These days, I respect that.

Rosaline is the daughter of the head croupier at Salvatore’s biggest casino. Sophia’s mom is head of PR for his restaurants, and Candace’s father is a financial manager at one of Salvatore’s companies.

“I should see Mr. Spears about extra credit as well,” I mutter, putting my sandwich down. Thinking about my grades and why they’re so awful this year has made me lose my appetite.

The three of them tell me that’s a good idea and start brainstorming how to persuade all my teachers to give me extra work to bump up my grades, which makes me smile. They’re all beautiful, and they’re whip-smart and competitive about grades and colleges. I think I would have let my brain turn to mush and given up at school if it weren’t for them.

Lunch ends, and we all hurry off to our different classes. I sit beside Sophia in Italian class as we fill out verb worksheets. My pen writes automatically but my mind is drifting. For a member of the mafia, Salvatore has a strong corporate presence. So does Cassius. Vinicius and Lorenzo, who knows what the hell those two get up to. I suppose that’s what makes Salvatore so successful. He has a veneer of legitimacy, which makes him untouchable. There are many people in this city who are afraid of him, but many more who respect and admire him.

After school, the four of us grab our bags and head out the school gates. As we walk through the parking lot, I notice a boy leaning against a black Cadillac Escalade in a leather jacket with his arms folded, watching us.

No, watching me. And smiling.

A faint smile, but it lights up his hazel eyes. He’s eighteen or nineteen from the look of him, with high cheekbones and rumpled hair. As he notices me gazing back, he smiles wider, and dimples appear in his cheeks.

“Damn, he’s cute as hell,” Rosaline murmurs, slowing her pace as she stares at the boy. “I wonder who he is.”

The moment we slow down, the boy pushes away from his car and strolls toward us. He comes to a stop right in front of me. “Hey. What’s your name?”

I can feel the three girls bristling at my sides. Not with jealousy that he’s talking to me, but with protectiveness.

“She’s spoken for,” Sophia immediately says.

The boy grins and pushes his fingers through his thick hair. “Spoken for? What is this, the Dark Ages?”

Considering how my marriage has been arranged, he’s not far off.

This boy is smiling at me like he expects us all to fall at his feet and worship his handsome face. But I’ve seen handsome. I’ve kissed handsome. As cute as this boy is, he’s got nothing on Salvatore Fiore, and even if he was the hottest boy on the planet, I don’t need the trouble of another massive ego connected to a charming smile laying waste to my life.

Besides, if this boy touched me Salvatore would probably have him killed.

I grasp Rosaline’s arm and start dragging her away. “Sorry, we have to go. We all have homework.”

“I’m Griffin,” the boy calls after me. “Have a lovely afternoon, ladies.”

Five minutes later, we’re walking along the street when a gray Maserati pulls up next to us. The top is down and a man in a suit, black shirt and sunglasses gazes at me, his handsome face a blank mask.

My stomach rebounds around inside me. Salvatore. Does he know that I’ve been talking to a boy? How could he know? An internal radar that goes off when a member of the opposite sex dares to talk to me?

Then he smiles and the sun glints off his white teeth and burnishes his tan throat. “Hey, baby.”

A ripple of surprise and delight goes through the girls I’m with. They absolutely adore Salvatore. Candace calls out, “Hello, Mr. Fiore. What a beautiful day it is.”

She’s not flirting, but I supposed she thinks it’s prudent to be friendly to her dad’s boss.

“Yes it is, Candace,” Salvatore replies, looking only at me. “I saw four beautiful girls while I was on the way to a meeting and I couldn’t help but stop and say hello. I’ve been busy lately, baby. I’m sorry.”

The news is full of a money laundering scandal that involves one of Salvatore’s CEOs. I suppose he’s been working to keep the man out of jail.

“Yes, I read all about it,” I reply, not smiling back.

“Your father’s been helping me smooth everything over. The mayor is such a generous man. I’ll talk to you later, Chiara. Bye, girls.”

My father. A wave of disgust goes through me. With one last smile for me, he steps on the gas and roars away. The girls gaze after him and then turn back to me.

“Damn, you’re an ice queen,” Rosaline tells me, but her tone is admiring. “If Mr. Fiore was my fiancé I would have jumped right into that car.”

“I wouldn’t have bothered to open the door,” Sophia jokes.

“You’re playing it right, though,” Candace tells me as we all keep walking. “A man like Salvatore loves to be teased. Holding him at arm’s length is only going to make him crazier about you.”

“Not always at arm’s length. It’s wise to let him stake his claim in public once or twice,” Rosaline points out with a smile, and I know she’s referring to the time Salvatore showed up at school and kissed me at the school gate.

Is that what I’m doing, making Salvatore crazier about me by being cold to him? I suppose it could be his fantasy, his untouchable bride who only melts for him in private. I don’t want to melt for Salvatore, so I’ll just have to be careful never to be alone with him.

I glance at the three girls. “Can I ask you guys something? Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

Candace immediately says yes, and that’s no surprise. Of the three of them, she’s the most uptight and ambitious, and she’s open with the fact that she wants a husband from high up in Salvatore’s organization. She even has a scrapbook with photos of every eligible bachelor under forty who works for Salvatore and earns more than two hundred thousand dollars a year. One of them was married last week, and she crossed out his picture with red pen, tears running down her face.

“I lost my V-card last summer,” Rosaline says with a shrug. “I want to get good at sex before I meet my future husband. Besides, sex is fun.”

“Right now, I’m keeping it,” Sophia says, “but when I get a proper boyfriend I’ll give it away so damn fast.”

“I’m thinking of losing it.” It would be the solution to all my problems, wouldn’t it? Salvatore won’t want to marry me if I’ve already given his coveted prize to another man. The other three mafia men are just as virginity obsessed. I could be free of all of them at once.

“You think you want to lose it?” Rosaline asks. “You better make up your mind before suggesting it to Mr. Fiore. He’s so hot for you he’ll jump you like that.” She snaps her fingers.

“Not with Salvatore. With someone else.”

The three of them stare at me, scandalized. Then Sophia bursts out laughing. “You could try, but Mr. Fiore wouldn’t let it happen.”

“Do you remember when he dragged Ginevra out of a restaurant last year because she was on a date with Adriano Montessori?” Candace says, her eyes shining. “The pictures were everywhere online. He was like a tiger.”

Montessori is an infamous playboy with a reputation of going through every socialite in Coldlake. Seducing Ginevra Fiore would have been his crowning glory.

The three of them discuss Salvatore’s bouts of brotherly overprotectiveness over the years, until Rosaline says to me, “Anyway, our point is, when it comes to family pride, Mr. Fiore is an unstoppable force. He’s not going to allow anyone unworthy to get their hands on his sister or his fiancée.”

Candace stares at me, baffled. “Why would you even want to give it to someone else when you’re marrying Mr. Fiore?”

I shrug and mutter vaguely about having reasons.

Rosaline’s words ring in my ear for the next week. When it comes to family pride, Mr. Fiore is an unstoppable force. With pride that strong, surely me having sex with another boy would wound Salvatore so much that he would break off our engagement.

As if he’s trying to stay upmost in my mind, the boy in the black leather jacket, Griffin, crosses my path again. On Sunday morning he’s in the line behind me in my favorite café, buying coffee, and he smiles at me when I notice him.

The following Wednesday evening I’m jogging in the park when I spot a familiar figure on the tennis courts. Griffin, wearing black shorts and a tight black T-shirt. As I jog past, he waves at me, a yellow tennis ball clutched in his fingers. There are tattoos decorating his forearms and more on his biceps.

On Saturday afternoon I’m studying in the public library when someone carrying a stack of books slides into the seat next to mine. Right next to mine, when there are half a dozen free tables nearby.

I look up, and I’m only mildly surprised to see it’s Griffin. He pretends to be absorbed in his reading but a smile is glimmering around his mouth. When he finally “notices” me staring at him, he leans his chin on his fist and grins lazily at me. “Oh, hey. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Are you following me? This is getting creepy.”

Griffin laughs and shakes his head. “No. But. Okay, full confession. I see you around a lot but you never notice me. I thought I’d try making you notice me. I think you’re cute and I can’t get you out of my mind.”

He gazes deep into my eyes, and smiles. If Salvatore looked at me like that, I’d probably feel a tug on my insides and hear a voice whispering to tilt my mouth up to his. But he’s not Salvatore so that smile just leaves me cold.

Griffin is playing with fire, flirting with me in public, and I don’t want to get anyone beaten up or killed. I turn a page in my book. “You should stay away from me, for your own sake. My fiancé is crazy.”

Griffin laughs softly. “Salvatore Fiore doesn’t scare me.”

“He should,” I say, highlighting a line in my notes.

Griffin leans over and covers my hand with his big one. His voice is low and his lips are close to my ear. “Want to get out of here?”

His voice is thick with suggestion. This is what I’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? A sign I should sleep with some other boy and get Salvatore off my back. I glance up at Griffin. He’s cute enough, I guess. He’s got a great body, but I don’t feel anything when he touches me. His hand on mine doesn’t cause fire to ripple through my veins.

But that’s a good thing, right? I don’t want to want Griffin. I just need a boy, any boy, to rid me of my pesky virginity.

And yet the idea of kissing Griffin gives me the creeps. Salvatore and his ex-friends seem to have left indelible ownership on my body. I can remember vividly every place they touched me, and it didn’t feel wrong.

Except for Lorenzo. That felt insane.

Griffin picks up a pen and writes a number in my notebook before getting to his feet. “Call me,” he says, and walks away.

I watch him go, worrying at my lip with my teeth. My life has turned into a game of chess as I try to think three steps ahead. It will never be over unless I find some way to win.

Later that week, I stay after school for an extra chemistry class with a handful of other students. The school is deserted as I walk out the gates. The parking lot is almost empty except for a handful of teachers’ cars.

And a black Cadillac Escalade.

The driver’s side door opens and Griffin gets out, looking like any high school girl’s wet dream in that black leather jacket and faded jeans. He waits for me by the open door, one eyebrow raised.

Enough messing about. In or out?

I take a tighter hold of my backpack and walk slowly toward him.

“Want to go get a soda?” he asks when I’m a few feet away.

It’s not soda he’s thinking about. If I get in that car, he’s going to take me to his place and we’re going to have sex, and that will be that. All my problems over in one afternoon.

“Uh, sure,” I whisper, and go around to the passenger side door and get in. I’m really doing this. I’m going to give my V-card away to some boy I don’t know so my mafia fiancé will dump me and I can be free.

This is crazy.

But the alternative, marrying Salvatore, is unbearable.

I expect Griffin to make small talk as we drive, or to be flirty and charming like he’s always been, but all he says as we get onto the main road is, “My place is on the other side of the city.”

The emptiness of his words makes unease wash over me. At least Salvatore makes me feel precious and coveted as he’s controlling every moment of my life. I push away thoughts of Salvatore and try to ignore the sick feeling in my belly.

While we’re stopped at the lights, I stare out the open window, my arms folded tightly. I just hope the deed itself doesn’t feel too awful, or Griffin doesn’t make it awful by being cold and callous. I cringe, and my courage evaporates.

I don’t want this, and I open my mouth to tell Griffin I’ve changed my mind.

That’s when I notice that the man in the next car over is staring at me. It’s a huge white SUV, spotlessly clean and expensive looking. The person sitting in the driver’s seat is a bear of a man in a white business shirt that’s pulled tight around his biceps and fitted across his shoulders. He has a neat dark beard and his muscled forearms are dusted with black hair.

If we both reached out, we’re close enough to hold hands. I feel a jolt as I recognize him. Cassius Ferragamo has one severe black eyebrow raised at me. His gaze slides over to the driver, and his other brow rises to join it.

My heart lodges guiltily in my throat, as if it’s Salvatore himself who’s caught me with another man and not one of his estranged best friends.

He opens his mouth to say something, and in that moment the lights change. Griffin guns the engines and we shoot forward.

I take a few deep breaths, and then glance out the window. Cassius’ white SUV isn’t there. A blue Ford is in its place. I’m about to relax when I glance into the side mirror.

Cassius is following us.

He’s on the phone and his expression is grim. I can’t tell what he’s saying but I have a horrible feeling it’s got something to do with me.

A few minutes later, Cassius hangs up and Griffin turns onto the freeway. I stare into the wing mirror, hoping that the white SUV peels away, but Cassius stays dead on our ass.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence. This is the busiest freeway in the city and it’s entirely possible that Cassius is just—

“What is that asshole doing?” Griffin’s squinting into the rearview mirror.

I turn around and look behind us, wondering if Cassius is flashing his headlights. A few hundred yards down the road, an obnoxiously red Ferrari is weaving through traffic, speeding and swerving like a race car driver. It takes the car just a few minutes to catch up with us and pull into the lane next to Cassius.

I recognize the handsome face behind the sunglasses. Vinicius Angeli.

What the hell is going on?

“You like Ferraris or something?” Griffin asks, clearly puzzled by the way I’m still twisted in my seat and staring out the back window.

I’m about to turn around and try to pretend there aren’t two mafia bosses on our tail when I see a black, militaristic Mercedes-Benz 4WD tearing up the slip lane next to the freeway, about to merge into traffic.

Oh no.

I have a sinking feeling who’s driving such an aggressive looking car. The driver of the Merc jerks the steering wheel and pulls across two lanes of rush hour traffic, causing half a dozen people to slam on the brakes and sound their horns.

“Is he crazy?” Griffin mutters.

Not crazy. Insane.

Behind the wheel of the Merc, Lorenzo Scava catches my gaze, points at Griffin, and then draws his finger across his throat.

That guy? He’s dead.

“Why do you even care who I’m with?” I moan under my breath.

“What?” Griffin asks.

I turn to Griffin and grab his arm. “I’ve changed my mind. Take the next exit and drop me off somewhere crowded and leave…quickly.”

These three men might hurt me, or they might not, but they will definitely hurt Griffin if I don’t get him out of this.

“My place isn’t far.” He switches the radio on.

“No, I’m serious, you need to—”

“I love this song,” Griffin says, turning the radio up and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

A few minutes later, Griffin pulls off the freeway into a distinctively sketchy part of the city. It doesn’t seem like a fun place to be left stranded without a ride, but I don’t care as long as Griffin can get out of here unscathed.

He presses a few buttons on his steering wheel and says, “Call Jax.”

A moment later, a number being called cuts across the music. When the call is picked up, Griffin says, “Jax? It’s me. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

A deep male voice without any inflection replies, “Dope.”

Then he hangs up.

“Who’s Jax?” I ask.

Griffin stares straight ahead and doesn’t answer.

I take another look around at the buildings we’re passing. Rundown warehouses and chain link fences. Rottweilers on rope leashes. Houses with boarded up windows.

“Griffin? Where exactly is your place?”

“Chill, would you? You’re jumpier than all those drivers on the free—” Griffin trails off as he glances in his rearview mirror and sees the same white SUV stuck to his bumper. Behind it is the red Ferrari. Behind that is the black Merc that nearly caused a pile-up.

Griffin’s furious eyes snap to mine. “Did you call them? Where the fuck is your phone?”

“It’s in my bag. I’ve just been sitting here the whole time.”

“Then what the fuck are your friends doing here?” he snarls, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“They’re not my friends. They’re not even my fiancé’s friends. I told you to let me out and go, so pull over!”

Griffin ignores me and speeds up. Cassius’ white SUV pulls into oncoming traffic and races up beside us. He tries to cut in front of the Escalade but Griffin twists the wheel savagely and we swerve into a side street. I grip the handle above my window and gasp a prayer.

The other three follow in a squeal of rubber, Cassius in the lead. Lorenzo’s black Merc turns down a side street and disappears.

I suppose it’s too much to hope that he’s going home.

I lean down for my bag and pull out my phone, intending to call Salvatore. He might have a meltdown when he finds out what I planned to do, but at least he’ll protect me from whatever the hell is about to go down.

Griffin grabs my phone and shoves it inside his jacket. “No, you fucking don’t.”

“Give that back. I’m trying to save your life.”

“Shut up,” he growls, his eyes darting around the streets as we drive way too fast.

“Those guys following us?” I say. “They don’t want you. They want me. Stop the car and let me out and they won’t follow you. Stop the car, Griffin!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs but he’s ignoring me.

Lorenzo’s 4WD races out of an intersection in front of us, and Griffin swears and slams on the brakes. I shoot forward and the seatbelt digs painfully into my throat. We stop just a few inches short of slamming into the Merc.

Griffin tries to put the car into reverse, but Vinicius’ Ferrari is right behind us, and then Cassius pulls up beside Griffin’s door. The enormous Italian man jumps out of his car, his shoulders bunched and his eyes black with fury.

Griffin is scrambling around behind his seat and I see the flash of a metal barrel. A split second later I realize what it is.

“He’s got a—”

Before I can finish the sentence, Cassius has yanked the door open and grabbed Griffin by the lapels of his leather jacket. I lunge for the gun and smack it out of Griffin’s hand, and it goes skittering into the seat well.

I jump out of the car and race around to the men. “Let him go, please. This is a horrible mistake.”

Cassius ignores me and drags Griffin out of the car. Vinicius frisks Griffin for weapons and Lorenzo’s got a gun in his hand. I look desperately around for something or someone to make this insanity stop, but the street is deserted.

Cassius begins dragging Griffin down a driveway toward a warehouse. “Chiara, get in my car and lock yourself in.”

With these three acting like Griffin is the Unabomber and Griffin making weird phone calls and grabbing guns? No chance.

I follow the three men and the twisting, swearing Griffin into the empty lot of a deserted warehouse. Cassius throws Griffin to the ground and the three of them start kicking him. In the stomach. In the kidneys. In the head. Vicious kicks that have Griffin groaning in pain.

I run forward and grab Cassius’ arm. “What are you doing? You’re going to kill him. Stop it!”

Cassius pushes me off and lands a kick between Griffin’s shoulder blades, who grunts in agony.

“Stop that. All of you. He didn’t do anything!” I push my way between Cassius and Lorenzo, prepared to throw myself down on top of Griffin in an attempt to shield him with my body. If they’re going to kick him then they can kick me, too.

Cassius wraps his arms around me and hauls me out of the fray. Feet off the ground and thrashing in Cassius’ grip, I watch the other two continue with the beating. “You pricks! Leave him alone. I was just in the car with him. Why do you care when you don’t even know who he is?”

“We know exactly who he is,” Cassius growls in my ear, “and what he planned to do to you.”

“It’s just my virginity,” I scream. “Who cares? It’s mine to do what the hell I want with. This was my idea!”

The other two stop kicking Griffin. The boy alternates between gasping for breath and coughing his lungs out, blood dripping from a split lip and gashed eyebrow.

Boy. Griffin is a boy. The other three are grown men. I knew they could be despicable, but this is on a whole other level.

Cassius loosens his arms and lets me slide down his chest until my feet touch the ground, but he doesn’t let me go. Griffin rolls onto his side and tries to push himself up. Lorenzo puts his foot on Griffin’s neck and shoves him back down.

Keeping Griffin prisoner with his boot, Lorenzo takes his phone out of his jeans and makes a call. “Hey fuckface, we found someone about to get his greasy hands all over your girl. Want to have some fun?”

I guess Salvatore is fuckface now. I feel sick at the thought of “fun” these men could have with someone they’ve already beaten half to death.

Lorenzo holds the phone away from his ear and winces. “Quit shouting at me. Get off at exit twenty-three. We’re at the old tinned food factory over on Pond—” He glances at the screen and grins. “He hung up. I think he’s on his way.”

He leans down closer to Griffin, an insane glint in his eye, and points at me. “That girl’s fiancé is on his way. Any last words before we pull all your teeth out with rusty pliers and shove them up your ass?”

Griffin tries to speak but Lorenzo grinds his boot into Griffin’s throat, making him wheeze.

“Stop that! He can’t breathe.”

Lorenzo glares at me like he’s thinking about choking the life out of me next. “Bring her here. I want to talk to our princess.”

Theirprincess. I’m not theirs.

Cassius forces me closer to Lorenzo. I try to fight but Cassius holds me against his chest as easily as a child holds a doll.

Lorenzo dips his face close to mine and snarls, “If you were looking to get gang-raped by a bunch of criminals, you should have called us.”

My blood pounds hard in my ears. “What are you talking about?”

Lorenzo pulls that hateful knife out of his jacket and leans down to Griffin.

“No—” I start to say, thinking he’s going to stab Griffin with it, but he grasps the sleeve of Griffin’s leather jacket and slashes it open.

He straightens up and points to a tattoo on the boy’s forearm. “He’s a Geak, you fucking moron. Do you know what they do to women when they want to send a message to the man who owns them?”

“No one owns me,” I say automatically, but I’m staring at the gothic letter G inked into Griffin’s arm. I was never close enough to Griffin when his arms were bare, but would I have recognized this tattoo for what it is? I barely know anything about the Geaks except that they’re a gang that’s sometimes mentioned in the news.

Jax. That was the name of the person Griffin called. “Who else is in the Geaks?”

“A bunch of lowlife scum,” Vinicius replies.

“Names,” I demand.

“It’s not like we’re mutuals on fucking Instagram,” Lorenzo growls. “He’s got a Geak tattoo on his arm. What more do you want?”

“All I know is they’re led by a guy called Jax,” Vinicius says.

I suddenly feel like Lorenzo is leaning on my windpipe. Jax. That deadpan voice on the phone. Griffin was taking me to him.

“Is that enough proof, princess? How about this?” Lorenzo raises his foot from Griffin’s throat. “How many of your buddies has Mayor Romano put in prison?”

“Seven,” Griffin rasps, his eyes full of hate as he glares at me. “This cunt deserves to be fucked with a broken bottle in every ho—”

Lorenzo draws his foot back and kicks Griffin viciously in the head. I stare at the boy as he writhes on the bloodied concrete.

Slowly, Cassius releases me and places his hands on my shoulders. “Bambina. Go back to my car while we take care of this. You shouldn’t watch.”

The last thing I want is to watch them torture someone to death, but I need to understand.

“Griffin, you were really going to…” I can’t bring myself to repeat the horrible things he spewed, “hurt me just because some of your friends were put in prison? I didn’t do anything to you or them. I can’t control who the courts convict.”

“This isn’t about you, you stupid bitch,” Griffin wheezes, spitting blood.

“So why bring me into it?”

Lorenzo answers for him. “It’s about your father. Right now, you belong to him and you’re fair game for anyone who wants revenge against the Mayor of Coldlake. Killing you is punishing him. Later, you’ll be targeted by anyone who wants revenge against Salvatore. That’s why we—” He breaks off and glances at the others, and then growls, “Never fucking mind. Go back to Cassius’ car. We won’t tell you again.”

The sound of an engine roars along the street and a vehicle screeches to a halt. A car door slams, and then a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a dark suit comes stalking across the lot with murder in his eyes.

No one speaks. Even Griffin has stopped moving.

Salvatore stops a few feet away and glares at each of his former friends. At me. At the bloodied boy lying on the concrete. And finally, the ornate G inked into his arm.

His hands curl into fists and he growls, “How did this happen?”

Vinicius is the one to speak up. “Your promised bride sought to do something about her virginity with a cute, harmless boy who’s been, what?” He glances at me. “Walking you home from school?”

I wince. Oh, Jesus Christ. I thought Vinicius, Cassius and Lorenzo were following me because I dared to get into a car with a strange boy, when they were actually freaking out because I was in a car with a Geak, someone they knew wanted me dead in the most horrific way. They saved me, and now everyone knows about my humiliating plan.

“He—Griffin—has been following me. We spoke a few times, and today he was waiting at school for me.”

“You’ve been stalking her?” Salvatore snarls at Griffin.

I wait for all four of the men to give me looks of loathing for being so stupid, and for attempting to have sex with a complete stranger, but all their venom is reserved for Griffin.

“Get him on his feet,” Salvatore says. Vinicius and Lorenzo haul Griffin up by his armpits as Salvatore takes his jacket off and rolls his sleeves back to his elbows. He takes his time about it, but his jaw is flexing like crazy.

Cassius stays close to me with his hands on my shoulders, his bulk a solid, almost comforting, presence.

Griffin can barely put weight on his own feet but he glares at Salvatore through a fringe of bloodied hair. He knows what’s coming, but he’s not crying or begging for his life.

My future husband steps closer to Griffin and then, without warning, punches him in the gut. The boy would collapse if it weren’t for the other two holding him upright. Salvatore goes on punching the boy with both fists, a slow, methodical, and brutal beating all over his torso and face. I can’t look away. Every sickening crunch and groan pierces my mind.

Griffin vomits, blood and half-digested food spattering on the broken concrete. Vinicius and Lorenzo finally let him drop.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Vinicius asks Salvatore, drawing a gun out from the back of his pants and aiming it at Griffin’s head.

“Do whatever you want with him,” Salvatore mutters, massaging his bruised knuckles. “Just see that he ends up dead.”

Vinicius glances at me, as if asking for my opinion about what should become of my would-be rapist.

Then he smiles.

Vinicius is always charming, and so blindingly handsome that you couldn’t possibly believe that anything ugly or gruesome could ever happen because of him.

He pulls the trigger. The shot explodes in my ears and in Griffin’s skull. A hole is blasted out the back of his head and blood, bone fragments and slimy, scrambled-egg lumps spatter over the concrete.

I stare at the lumps until I realize it’s Griffin’s brains. A wave of nausea rolls up my body.

The night of my seventeenth birthday, I didn’t believe that Vinicius was dangerous, and I’m still being fooled by his angelic looks. All four of these men are violent devils with handsome faces, powerful bodies and tailored clothes. They warned me they were dangerous, but I didn’t believe them.

My priest once gave a sermon on how the devil himself can appear beautiful, for Lucifer was an angel before he fell from grace. Beauty is deceptive, and a handsome face can hide a multitude of horrors.