Page 82 of Stolen Seconds

How do I explain to someone that I’d spent my entirelife feeling lost, a stranger in my own skin and I was too broken to let anyone see how broken I was?

I pulled away from him, searching his eyes. “I’m tired, Luca.” My voice trembled. “Can you. . . can you just hold me? Only for tonight. Please.”

He nudged under my chin lazily, as he always did. “You never have to say please, piccola ribelle.”

A sharp sensation brought me out of the comforting memory, my eyes blinking open.

The man was standing over me, blood coating him with his cold eyes staring into me.

A piercing pressure fell onto my right arm, and I knew he was drugging me again. My heartbeat accelerated, unknowing of what it was this time.

It didn’t take long for my consciousness to sway and become heady before he walked away, but I never passed out.

Minutes ticked by, and I stared at Nicolai from across the room. He was covered in so much blood that he appeared unrecognizable with his body slumped and his head thrown back.

Death appeared closer, and I wondered if this was how my story would end, cut open and still as I watched my brother take his last breaths.

It was hard grasping on to life when my eyes were fluttering in and out of sleep, unsure of what was real and what wasn’t.

My body didn’t feel like my own, as if I was in an upended state, my brain fogging up and creating figures, shapes and sounds that heightened my anxiety.

When darkness brimmed the edges of my vision, I swore I heard the sound of my own heart breaking athisvoice.

“Not so pretty anymore, Irina,” Luca said.

Chapter 22

Luca

The blade slid along my father’s arm smoothly, blood pouring out in a slow stream.

Irina leaving fucked me up in the head and I’d let out steam in the only way I knew how. Violence.

“I’ve gotten bored with your existence,” I said, finding another patch of skin to cut through. “You suck the joy out of everything, even in death.”

An incoherent mumble came from him, bringing my attention to his hollow face, sweat and blood dripping down his forehead.

“You’ve done enough talking.” I lifted the blade between us, assessing it under the light above us, the crimson color vibrant. “Not that you’re able to, anyway.”

I spun the knife with my fingers before wrapping my hand around the hilt and jabbing it in his thigh.

A silent scream vibrated from him as he shuddered against the bed.

“It’smyturn to talk now.” I dragged the knife down until I’d ripped through muscle and flesh.

Was it normal to feel unaffected by my own father’s pain?

“Isn’t it ironic?” I chuckled, wrenching the blade out. “You always wanted me to be exactly like you and, in a way, you succeeded.” I emphasized my words by digging it in his other thigh as resentment rose to the surface. “But there’s one difference between us.” I glanced up at him, fury thrumming in my veins. “You’re going to die, and no one will mourn your loss.”Stab. “Not me.”Stab. “Not Evangeline.”Stab.“No one.”

Red drenched the mattress by the time I finished mangling his body, and yet a part of me wasn’t satisfied. It hadn’t been for weeks. I was done.

Leaning over him, I brought my face close to his, forcing him to see the coldness I felt on the inside. “You took my mother from me,” I seethed, the memory engraved into my mind as if it had happened yesterday. “You took and took from me, but I’ll never allow you to do the same to Evangeline.” I brought the knife to his neck and dug it in, his eyes filling with fear. “And I’ll be paying my thanks by taking everything from you.” Slowly, I slid the knife across his throat, dragging out his death more than I already had. “Your legacy dies here.”

Blood seeped from his mouth; his face stunned, before his eyes rolled back as he let out his last breath.

I stared at him for a few moments, wondering how I could bring him back to life to do it all over again.

Grabbing the towel from the bedside table, I wiped my hands clean as I walked out of the door.

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