Page 54 of Unholy Bonds

Irene leaned in, her hands forming a steeple beneath her chin, her eyes widening with curiosity. “And then?”

“I want to see what he’ll choose. Will he abstain—is he strong enough for that?” I smacked my lips with a smirk. She leaned closer, her eyes wide, fully entranced by the story.

“And? What next?”

“And if he dares to make even the slightest move, I’ll be ready to pounce and take everything.”

“You know you’re insane, don’t you? The very good kind of insane, but still insane,” she said, her eyes amused as she put her legs on the coffee table.

“You still love me,” I said, so grateful that she had chosen to stick by me. She was my family, my only family. When Katelyn was forcefully taken away from me, Irene was all I was left with. My only piece of heaven in hell. And I’d forever be grateful for her.

“I do. I love you. I love you as much as I loved Katelyn. You’re my family.”

“And I love you.”

23

OBSESSION

RYDEN

It was the longest fucking four days of my life. I had resisted the urge to go find Yara, and this time, not run away like a fucking coward and stay. I kept telling myself that my life was already a mess as it was, but the conviction was fading, and I itched to have my palm around her neck, tight, as she screamed for me.

I took a sip of the beer, standing next to Enzo and staring at the painting of a crow with a skeleton’s ribs perched atop a burnt tree branch.

Smoke curled around the creature, and the night sky bled black. It was morbid. Enzo liked morbid things. He reminded me of Dracula, a bit younger but much paler.

“When did you buy this disturbing crow?” I asked, glaring at the creature that looked at me with its beady eyes full of disdain.

“I went to an art exhibit two days ago,” Enzo said, fixing his squinted gaze on the crow. “And the crow cawed at me. So loudly, too. I couldn’t resist.”

“Hah! It fucking cawed?! How much did you waste on it?” I looked at him, and he smiled glibly, tracing the condensation on his beer glass.

“The artist was a tall woman in a shit-brown tweed jacket. She looked like she’d cry if another person passed by her art. It’s a brutal world, Ry,” Enzo said, shaking his head. “The painting reminded me of Hanna. She always loved weird things.” We both sat in silence, our eyes on the crow. “She would have loved you,” he said as an afterthought, and I shook my head.

“Yeah? Thank you, but FYI, a serial killer isn’t someone you should introduce to your sister.”

Our friendship was a weird contrivance born out of a necessity and then became a strange comfort in the loneliness. When you had too much baggage to carry, you needed somewhere to leave it off once in a while, and Enzo was that place for me. He never complained about my baggage, which was often filled with the dead.

“You would have been the best thing I could have introduced to her. You know… I brought that fucker to our home. Jacob Levey. It was my fault. The guilt… it kills me.” His face twisted with pain and anger.

“You didn’t know. No one could have known,” I said as Enzo emptied his beer. “It was Jacob Levey’s fault. Only his.”

“I should have known. He was a… friend. I called that fucker my friend.” Enzo’s fingers tightened around the bottle before he pulled himself out of the darkness that he often went to whenever he thought of Jacob.

“He’s dead. We killed him for her,” I said, trying to dig him out of the pit.

“And so is she. Dead. Gone.” Enzo sighed, emptying his drink.

We sat there in tightening silence before he took a deep breath. “I hope she’s fine wherever she is, and I hope he’s burning for his sins,” Enzo said, rubbing his fingers against his temple.

“We burned him for his sins.”

We continued to stare at the crow, and I could almost hear it now—the loud caws in the creeping silence. Its eerie eyes made me shudder.

“I do love that thing the more I look at it. Those eyes…” Enzo hummed. “Keen. Don’t you think so?”

“It looks like it’s judging us!” I grunted. “Such judgmental eyes for a fucking crow.”

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