Page 77 of Cruel Devil

I couldn’t even get out of bed today. Savage’s flat screen was on, episodes of some comedy series playing on mute. I couldn’t be bothered to turn up the volume, because I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the actual show. I just wanted something to stare at as I desperately tried not to replay every single fucking mistake in my life on loop.

I’m in the same black joggers and misappropriated red vest I wore yesterday. Haven’t showered. Brushed my teeth. Even washed my face. My hair was such a tangled mess I just piled it on top of my head.

Savage just keeps frowning at me like I’m his first fucking attempt at a Rubik’s cube.

The chicken leg drops down into my mountain of rice, sending a few grains tumbling to the floor. Bella the German Hoover is at my feet in an instant to vacuum the tiles. Then she looks up at me with her round eyes gleaming with concern like she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be fed in her life again.

“Fine. Fuck it.” I throw my drumstick toward her, but Savage snatches it out of the air a split second before Bella can inhale it.

Smack.

Bella looks confused when she realizes there isn’t a chicken leg in her mouth, and then whines and lies down on her belly, her big brown eyes instantly forgiving me for being such a tease.

We’re outside on the villa’s patio, Savage, Vito, Andy…everyone but me enjoying an early supper of roast chicken as the sun sets behind the trees.

On a normal day, in a normal person’s life, it would all have been pretty as fuck. The orange and pink hues mirrored in the calm waters around the jetty with its single motorboat that was probably used for years in drug runs.

The way the setting sun peeks through the Spanish moss dangling from the branches of the massive oaks along the bank. The early evening breeze that toys with the lace curtains framing the French doors leading inside.

How can I appreciate anything when my sisters are suffering through God-only-knows what hell?

How can I fucking eat?

I shove my plate toward Savage. “Help yourself.”

Instead of eating my food, he tosses the chicken leg I’d been trying to feed to Bella back onto my plate.

“Chicken bones,” he says mysteriously.

I huff at him, tilting my head as I cross my arms over my chest. “And puppy dog tails?”

Andy delivers an impressive, “These are a few of my favorite things!”

Everyone at the table turns to look at her. She shrugs. “What? I was in the choir before…life happened.”

Savage returns to his own meal, inspecting his chicken leg like he’s wondering how best to devour it.

Vito leans over to me. “Dogs shouldn’t eat cooked bones, especially chicken. Could splinter and pierce their intestines.”

I hurriedly swallow down bile, clapping a hand over my eyes as a vivid flashback from my nightmare assaults my memory.

There’s a wet smack-chomp under the table. I peek out through my fingers to see Savage biting chunks of meat from his chicken leg and feeding it to Bella.

“You okay, sweetie?” Andy asks. “You’re looking a little pale today.”

I send her a frosty smile. “Bet I’m doing a hell of a lot better than my sisters. They’re on their way to the auction block, in case anyone missed the news report.”

Everyone flinches when Savage’s fork clatters onto his plate. I glance at him through my lashes as he slowly takes a sip from his beer, eyes locked on something in the distance.

“We’re doing everything we can to find them,” Vito says in a tight voice. “We have every halcone at our disposal digging up what they can about Sullivan’s auction?—“

“Yeah, sure Vito, thanks. I’m gonna sleep real well tonight knowing all five of your buddies are helping out.”

“Sixteen,” he mutters.

“All sixteen men? Dear God, who’s running the cartel?”

“Nyx…” Savage growls from beside me.

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