Page 112 of Hearts Of Darkness

“You have my word.”

He staggers away, keeping hold of my hand until the very last second, like he did on the plane in Africa. When the contact severs, my grief strips the strength from me, and I tumble to my knees.

“I love you, Dante Santiago,” I call out after him, my voice breaking. “… And I forgive you.”

He turns to smile at me, a sight so rare and so exquisite that I can feel my whole body shuddering from the power and intensity of it.

I watch as he tips his glorious head back to look at the myriad of stars above our heads, and then at the soft lights reflecting on the water below. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself just in time.

Moments later, he’s diving headfirst into the ocean.

EPILOGUE

EVE

Six Months Later…

“This is good, Eve. This isreallygood.”

My editor’s enthusiasm rouses me from my thoughts. I turn away from the window to watch him pore over my copy for the third time this morning. I’ve spent the last few months investigating the rise and downfall of a Ponzi-style scheme that has gripped and devastated the upper societies of New York in equal measure. Dante was right. It seems that dangerous criminals lurk in every facet of life.

“Thanks, Rob,” I say, grinning at my overweight, overworked, but perennially cheerful boss, as he sits back in his chair to consider printing schedules.

“We’ll run it this weekend. Front page. Excellent work again, Miss Miller.”

“Does this mean I get a corner desk?”

He tips his balding head back and laughs. “Let’s see whatthe circulation figures look like first, eh? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I return his good humor with another smile as I head for the door, running my fingers along the delicate chain of my necklace. I’ve given up biting my nails. I have this new habit now, and I catch myself doing it often.

The necklace arrived fourteen days after I was rescued from the dockside, dressed only in a sweatshirt and covered in blood. Mute from shock and surrounded by bodies.

It was delivered without a note, but I knew who had sent it even before I opened the black velvet box with the embossed lettering. Resting on a light gray cushion was an exquisite silver necklace with a pendant like no other. It consisted of three numbers spelled out in dozens of tiny diamonds:

‘666’

The mark of the devil.

The mark of Dante Santiago: a man who has branded himself across my heart and my soul.

The authorities aren’t buying my story ofwrong place, wrong time, even though Rick had Manuel’s body removed and my apartment cleaned up for me. I recognize a tail when I see it, and the FBI aren’t exactly discreet. I’m being watched, twenty-four-seven, and I tell myself that this is the reason he hasn’t returned for me yet.

I may have forgiven Dante for what he did to my family, but my family won’t forgiveme. I’ve put my father in an impossible position, and I hate myself for it. He knows exactly who Sebastian Días is. He knows it was him who stole me away. He holds the key to linking me with the man who murdered his son, but he’s keeping my secret safe for now. I may disgusthim, he may think that I’m a traitor to my brother’s memory, but he doesn’t want to see me locked up, either. I’m holding on to hope that one day he’ll understand my motives and lessen the burden of his hate for me.

“Are you coming for drinks tonight?” calls out Rob.

“Sure… You’re buying, right?”

“After you turned in a piece like that? Damn straight I am.”

“I’ll see you at six.”

I make my way along the hallway and back to my desk, pausing for a moment to take in the sprawling Miami skyline.

I know he’s out there.

Sometimes, when I’m watching the news, I’ll find myself face to face with the hallmarks of his handiwork: The African dictator cut down in a hail of bullets, the rogue sniper who assassinated a wanted terrorist. He’s still slaking his bloodlust. He still hasn’t broken the cycle, but perhaps in time…

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