Page 67 of Savage Rule

I stare at it, then at the path between the graves that leads to a family plot at the top of a slight hill. From here, I can spot the little fence that separates the Sinacores from the rest of the dead, the shadowy figures of their tombstones seeming to loom over us.

“I’m scared.” Every scene from the horror movies I watched as a kid comes back to haunt me—twisted hands breaking through the dirt, the undead out for revenge, and decaying bodies in search of the one that killed them.

His fingers wrap around mine. “I’m here.”

We walk toward the place, and I might as well be heading toward a tribunal.

I pause, my feet refusing to go past the line of demarcation. Once I cross I’ll be able to see the proof of what I did. I’ll stand beforeher, and I don’t know if I can bare it.

“You have to.” Giving me a slight tug, Gunn places me in front of a beautiful white marble headstone. On it, reads,Alma Maria di Persia. Beloved Daughter and Sister.

Every cell in my body freezes upon seeing her name. My breath lodges in my throat and I can barely utter a sound ofhorror. I’m standing at the gates of the underworld, ready to be judged, and my soul is completely tainted with guilt.

“No!” I finally scream and make to run, but strong arms come around me and stop me mid-flight. “Let me go!”

“You have to make peace with it, Scar,” Gunn says. “You have to face her.”

I kick and punch, but he’s like a brick wall surrounding me, keeping me imprisoned against him. “Stop it, Scarlet.”

Suddenly, all the fight is drained from me and I fall limply to my knees, bringing Gunn with me. I look back, but the moment I see her name again a sob explodes from me and I burry my face in Gunn’s chest. “I can’t.”

“You have to. If you don’t, the guilt will consume you.”

“Maybe I deserve that.”

“Maybe. Maybe we all do. You can still tell her how sorry you are.”

I touch my side, the spot where I’ve cut time and again, keeping the wound fresh, so afraid that if it closes I’ll forget her like I’ve done so many others. Afraid I’ll forget what I did, the name of the innocent life I took. But how could I? Alma Maria di Persia. Her name is an invisible scar on my black soul that will never heal.

Using what little strength I have left, I force myself to face Alma’s grave. I dig my fingers into the dirt covering her casket, needing to somehow connect with her.

“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen,” I whisper to her, sensing that wherever she is, she can hear me. “Why were you there? You didn’t belong there.”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I recall that night at Flag’s Point Marina. Gideon called Luca to make an exchange, Carina for her father, Gregorio. Alma wasn’t supposed to be there. Why was she there? A civilian should never be a part of mafia business.

When I threw the knife that ended her life, it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for the man that betrayed Gideon’s father.

It hit her instead and just like that, my hands were covered in innocent blood. There was no justifying it. No sin on her part that cancelled out mine.

I tear myself out of Gunn’s grasp and crawl to the headstone. The guilt that’s been rotting away at my chest abruptly dislodges and comes up my throat, nearly choking me, and I scream.

“Forgive me!” I cling to the base of the marble as if it were Alma’s own feet and I beg. “Please, please forgive me.”

For a long while, I wail. I remain there, crying, desperate for relief. When I don’t get it, I tug my knife out but before I can do any damage, Gunn takes hold of my hand.

“Don’t shut off the pain. She deserves better than that.” He takes the knife, but he doesn’t try to move me. Instead, he curls around me, warm and strong. A powerful anchor that allows me to let go because I know he won’t let me drift away.

Finally, after what seems like hours, that relief I so desperately sought finds me.

I take a breath and another. Each one comes out easier than the last.

When I’m able to speak, I turn to him and ask, “Have you ever killed an innocent person?”

He shakes his head. “No. But I don’t have to have the same experiences as you to understand what you feel. And I don’t have to be in your skin to feel your pain. Punishing yourself won’t bring her back.”

“It will keep me from doing it again.” I let out a lengthy exhale and drop my head back to gaze at the night sky. “The worst part of all this is that I’ll never see her. I’ll never be able to drop down to my knees and beg her for forgiveness.”

“Why do you say that?”

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