Page 69 of The Devil's Secret

“Are you sure?” His nostrils flare.

I nod, my pulse slamming, remembering how one of those men stuck that baton in me. How he enjoyed hurting me. How the others laughed before they all took their turn. I wasn’t a person to them. I was a carcass. A toy. A sick game they played. But now two of them are here, enjoying their food as though nothing happened.

“I’m gonna take care of it, baby. I can’t take it back, but fuck, I’m gonna make sure they bleed for it.”

“Wha-what are you going to do?”

“You mean what are we gonna do?”

I nod, my heart pacing.

“You trust me?”

“Explicitly.”

He gives me his hand. “Let’s go.”

I fumble, grabbing my purse as we both rise. He threads his fingers through mine, glancing at me with breathtaking fervor as we make our way to their table, every step like torture. Like my legs are slowly turning to stone. But I fight it, shoving down the nerves, the mind-bending fear. Because I’m not alone, and where I may be weak, he’s strong. And his strength is contagious.

Both men turn as we approach. For a split second, they don’t recognize me, but then it comes, that panic, that sheer terror on both their faces, their eyes filled with the same horror I had on my face when they tortured me.

They both glance at one another, the two women beside them oblivious as they talk to each other.

Enzo squeezes my hand once.

“Hey, guys!” he greets them, stepping right behind them, each of his arms falling over their shoulders like they’re long-lost friends.

I stand to the side, my eyes on the man who held that baton, his face pivoted to me, his anxiety setting over my gaze. I relish it. His fear. I smell it. Taste it. I want to own it. The utter devastation I felt moments before is replaced by the need for vicious violence. I’ve never felt this much rage before. It’s like someone else is trapped inside me, screaming, and ripping at the seams to get out.

Enzo spins the man’s head forward once he notices the asshole gaping at me.

“Hey, pal,” the other one says, turning around in the chair. “I think you got us confused with someone else.”

“Nah.” Enzo’s forearms clench around their necks, biceps popping as he does. “I’m pretty sure I have exactly who I was looking for, and there’s something important we really should talk about. So how about we send these ladies home so we can do just that?”

I finally peer at the two women, probably not much older than me, their faces stunned, expressions frozen.

“Yeah, we’re not gonna do that,” the one who used the baton says.

Enzo only chuckles dryly. “Yeah, you are. Because we both know if you don’t…” The rest of it he says quietly into the man’s ear, and when he does, the color completely drains from my tormentor’s face.

Enzo pats him on the head. “That’s what I thought.”

Reaching into his wallet, he throws some money on the table.

“Are you their girlfriends, wives?”

“No, um…” one answers, her long fingernail pushing her short, brown hair away from her face. “We…” She glances at the other woman.

“They pay you to be here?”

She nods.

“Well, how about I take the trash out of here, because that’s what they fucking are, isn’t that right?” He forms a fist, shoving it into one of the men’s necks. “They hurt you yet?”

Both women glimpse down onto the table.

“That’s what I thought. How about this, ladies? We never saw each other. When they go missing, and theywillgo missing, you never speak about me or her.” He gestures with a thumb at me.

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