Dark Castle by Shanna Handel

19

Santo

The girls rushto Willow’s side, peppering her with questions one after the other, reminding me of when Enzo and I get into a good volley of ping pong. “How is she? Where did you see her? What’s she like now? What did she want? Is she well?”

“She’s…well.” Willow offers a tight smile. “There’s a lot to discuss. But there’s time.”

Briar reads her cues, standing back from Willow’s chair. “Let’s go home. Sophia will be a cloud of cuss words if we don’t get her Santo home.”

Posie dismisses Prue entirely. “I don’t even care to hear about Prue. A woman who runs out on her family like she did? Goooood riddance.”

The little hellcat is right. I drop a kiss on top of Willow’s head. “Let’s go.”

I’m ready to get back. There’s a lot that needs to be done. I need to talk to Leo. We need to find Prue. Demi’s team left, but I’ve been through enough of these events to know it’s never entirely over. There’s no resolution. Only a move, then a countermove. It’s like a never-ending game of chess.

And I like to be prepared.

I gather our things while Willow cleans the teacups, hand washing them and leaving them to dry. I swear the girl is never not doing chores. That’ll have to change.

Once I have everything secured it’s time for Cinderella to have some fun. We’ll have to move up our annual gala. My princess deserves a ball.

We get back to the castle. I hold Willow’s hand in mine, my chest high with pride. Everyone knows the moment they see us that we’re together. There’s a lot of disappointed single men at the castle and who could blame them? She’s pure perfection. But she’s mine. They know not to look and certainly not to touch unless they want to visit the family graveyard.

Leo takes the news pretty hard, but Cecily has the good idea to set him up on a blind date with one of her single friends—a girl with a heart-shaped mouth and a lip piercing—and Leo seems to heal pretty quickly after that.

Willow and I fall into a steady rhythm of working all day and fucking all night. She’s every bit as sexy and naughty as I knew she’d be under those long homespun dresses. She’s hot for me under the sheets, leaving me dreaming of her all day long.

She’s even got me liking the taste of bread.

I take care of her. Spoil her. Leave her gifts at her workstations. Flowers, chocolates, lavender scented candles Briar said she adores but would never buy herself. Ask her to let me take her shopping.

She’s not to leave the castle grounds without me.

Ever.

And she doesn’t; to my relief she’s a good girl when it counts.

My men have Prue’s castle surrounded. They hide in the woods. If she returns, they’ll bring her to me.

I want to know why the witch tried to kill me.

But most of all, I want to know why she put her own daughter in a prison cell. There was no door, no lock, but still, it pisses me off to no end and I want answers.

I told Aldo finding Prue is my mission, not his.

Willow was the one Prue approached, the one she wants to talk to. This involves Willow, which means it’s my call. Aldo shoots first, asks questions later. Willow wouldn’t want that. I’m more collected. I bide my time. Get my answers. Make a plan, then enact said plan, leaving room for changes and corrections if my plan needs to evolve.

If it comes down to it, I do what I need to do.

I just take my time.

Things with Stefano and Demi have been quiet. They haven’t been back, and Stefano swears on his life he’s working on a plan. Aldo grows impatient, ready for a war. I tell him these things take time.

I know we won’t hear from Demi for a few months at least. That’s her way. It’s how she operates. Make a dramatic stand then disappear into the shadows.

We’re working on making the castle more secure.

I’ve had taller towers built so our lookouts can see further down the road. I’ve had long chains made, their links decorated with metal spikes. If another parade comes our way, we’ll lay the chains across the road. My brother won’t have to shoot any tires, they’ll be flat before they get anywhere near us.

If—when—she comes back, we’ll be ready.

Until then, we look for Prue. And do what Russos do best. Party our asses off.

With the help of the women in my life, I make plans. I make a few special purchases. And I wait.

Every day I lead the rounds. I take my most trusted men and my brother Enzo. First, we leave the wall. Guns drawn, we walk the rear perimeter, the one that borders the forest. Our forest, gifted to us by Stefano.

What was once a gift has become a source of constant concern because you can never know what threat hides in a dark forest. After we round the wall, we hit the woods, riding our horses over the paths looking for anything out of place. Then we take the horses back to the barn and trade them out for more horsepower.

Yeah—it causes me physical pain—but my cars are the best and for Willow’s sake, I’m allowing others to drive them. Teams of three follow the roads that lead out from our land. We ride for miles.

Scouting. Collecting information. Burning off steam.

Today, I choose my canary yellow Jag. She’s a beauty to behold and she hugs curves like no other. She goes zero to sixty in five point five seconds.

We’ve walked the perimeter, ridden the forest, and spun our tires a good fifty miles in each direction. My two teammates look to me for the signal to turn around. But I’m not quite ready. I’ve got more ground to cover. I radio them, sending them home.

“Enzo, Tyler, go on back. I’ll be there shortly.”

Enzo’s voice crackles over the radio. “You sure, brother?”

“Yeah. I got somewhere to be. Be back soon.” They make U-turns, burning rubber, and head home. Someone’s going to be buying me new tires.

I’m the only one on the road for miles. This is a quiet stretch and I’m left alone with my thoughts. My gun sits on the empty seat beside me. I hold it, tapping the barrel of it against the leather seat in time with the music while I drive.

The odometer reaches sixty, seventy, eighty. They told me this baby tops out at one fifty-five. I’ve made it to one ten. Let’s see if she can fly.

Ninety, a hundred.The scenery out the window becomes a blur. One ten.

Willow’s beautiful face appears in my mind. Telling me to slow down. It’s like I can hear her voice in my head, like she’s in this car, talking to me. Hairs stand up on my arms—like when someone tells you a really good ghost story.

She’s not here. I know she’s not here. But it feels so real.

She smiles. “Slow down, baby. For me.”

I lift my foot from the gas. One hundred, ninety, eighty, seventy. I hold it at a respectable sixty. Laughing at myself, I shake my head.

No one’s ever been able to slow me down before.

Only her.

And she’s not even here. Funny how it is when someone finds their way into your heart. They find their way into your head, too. If you’re enjoying something you wonder if they’d enjoy it too. If you’re worrying or planning, it’s like they’re right there giving you advice. You know what they would say and they’re not even there to say it.

I keep the speed steady and I roll. I know where I’m going. The outpost behind the Rosa castle. The one I’ve set up to keep a better eye out for Prue.

I turn off the main road, taking the gravel one that leads to a long-abandoned building once used by the military. It’s stocked with our weapons and ammo and a few generators for power and running water. It’s a temporary set up for now, but it’s a good place, tightly built and well-hidden, and we’ll keep it as a security outpost once we’ve found her.

Parking the car by the side entrance, I step out, leaning my arm against the roof of my car. I give the whistle—two high, two low, and wait for Po. He wanted more responsibility, so I gave it to him. This the first outpost he’s been in charge of.

He’s doing a damn good job. He’s funny and light but serious when he needs to be. He can tell you a joke to make you laugh or cut your throat with one swipe of his blade. My men like him.

Po ambles out, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other on the handle of his gun like I taught him. “Brother! Tell me you’re here because that la ragazza of yours baked some bread to deliver to us.”

“Nope. Not today. Just checking in.”

“Noooo.” He groans, clutching his belly like he’s starving. “You’re killing me! Not only are you keeping that beautiful girl all to yourself, now you have to hoard her baked goods too?”

I laugh. “I’ll bring some. Next time. When you’ve got something for me I’ll have something—”

“Let me stop you right there, ragga.” He holds out a palm, cutting off my words. “We think we found something you’ll be interested in.”

My interest is piqued. “And?”

He pauses, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s thinking something over. “I have something you want.”

“What?” I take a step toward him. I used to tower over him but not anymore. We’re head-to-head.

“Two dozen of Willow’s sprinkle cookies and the information is yours.” His jaw tightens. He’s making a stand.

I tap his chest with the tip of my finger. “You tell me what you know, and I don’t kick your ass.”

He gives me that exasperated look little brothers reserve for their older brothers. “Come on, man. Three dozen sprinkle cookies and I won’t kick your ass.”

I cock a brow.

He knows when to quit. He throws his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright! Alright. For five dozen and a heap of Pizzelles—”

Loud bangs ring out from the woods. They’re pretty far out. Maybe half a mile from here?

The same sound as we heard outside the Rosa castle that day.

Po draws his gun, moving quickly toward the wall of the outpost. “Sounds like the calling card you warned us about.”

“It’s just firecrackers. Meant to get my attention.”

His brow knits. “Couldn’t she just text like a normal person?”

Drawn by the sound, men are creeping out from the outpost, guns drawn. “Just go back inside. Get your men back inside and cover me from the windows.”

Po wants to argue but he nods, heading back toward the men. He signals to them, one fist in the air open then closed and they go back into the building.

She’s clever. She’s hidden from my men and bided her time. She’s been waiting for me.

I move my gun behind my back, tucking it in my belt and pulling the tail of my shirt over it. She’s probably watching every move I make from her hiding place in the woods and knows I have a gun, but I keep it. I move toward the sound, figuring if she wanted to knock me out with one of her lightning strikes, she’d have done it when I got out of the car.

She wants to talk.