Page 22 of The Devil's Den

“What the fuck did I tell you?” Stan barks in my ear. “You fucking do this and do this well or you know what they’ll do to your precious girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” I glare back, grinding my teeth as I look straight at him.

These people, I want to kill them all instead. I want to take Aida and run away with her. But I can’t, and she’ll never go anywhere without me. She’s made that clear. So we’re stuck here, in this world where I’m forced to do the most awful things, not for me, but for her, the one person I have left in this world to protect.

That girl is the only one who still makes my heart feel happiness. I don’t know how not to be when she’s around. Even when I push her away, even when I want to hide the evidence of what her family makes me do, still, I want her around. She’s a part of me I can’t let go of, and I’ll protect her always. Because no one else does.

“Take the fucking gun,” Agnelo shouts as he walks up to me, pressing the barrel of the weapon into my throat while Faro watches from behind him. “You’ll do what we fucking tell you. It’s the only damn reason you’re not working the club. You remember it, right?” His upper lip curls. “The place I showed you?”

I refuse to answer. Just thinking about that disgusting place makes my heart race. The sick things those people were doing with each other, to the kids.

“Answer me, boy!” He slaps me hard, my head whipping to the side. “Not only will I send you there for being a shit…” His hand curls around my jaw, the gun digging into my neck. “But I’m going to send Aida there too.”

“No!” I pant, shaking my head over and over until my neck hurts. “Don’t do that to her.”

“Then you pick up this gun”—he pulls it away and stretches it out for me—“and kill that scumbag.”

“Wha—what did he do?” Maybe if he’s bad like them, I can do this.

Faro chuckles. “You work for us. You don’t fucking ask questions.” He steps up to me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking hard. “It doesn’t matter what he did. Hell, we could’ve picked him up off the street and you’ll still have to kill him. You have no alternative. You either kill for us or we send you and Aida to work the club. It’s your choice.” He drops his hand away, returning to where he first stood.

My shoulders tremble with loud exhales as I take a peek at the man I have to kill. He stares at me, his eyes pleading, his head jerking, the chair rattling as he tries to run, his muttering getting louder.

My mind instantly goes to Aida—that long golden hair, that smile, which always lights up the room, erasing every awful thing I’ve done and will have to do. For her. And without another single thought, I take the pistol from Agnelo, line it to the man’s forehead, and…

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I pull the trigger, the rip of the bullet piercing the air.

Instantly, his face falls forward.

He’s dead. I did that. I killed a person.

An arm drapes around my back, a hand falling over my shoulder, but my eyes are glued to the dead guy.

“You never apologize,” Agnelo says. “You kill without hesitation. Without an ounce of regret.”

I glance over to find him glowering at me, the fury in his eyes forcing me to swallow down my fear.

“If you ever apologize again, I’ll fucking kill her. Then, I’ll kill you.”

CHAPTEREIGHT

AIDA AGE 14

He holdsmy hand in his, both of us sitting on the mattress still on the floor like it’s always been, the same one we both know quite well.

Every year that passes, I think this will be the year my father changes his mind and lets him go. But I’m foolish, aren’t I? Evil has no bounds. No restraints. It’ll eat away until there’s nothing left. And from Matteo, they’ve managed to take everything.

He’s only fourteen, but his eyes, those kind brown eyes, they lack the sweet touch of the little boy I once met, and every year, I find less of him.

But no matter how much he may change, our friendship never does. He’s still my Matteo. And lately, I think… I think I’m starting to like him, like more than just a friend, which is weird because I never even liked a boy before. Not that I’m around any or anything, but still.

I could never tell him though. I could never say that when I’m near him, my stomach does this flip thing, like a swarm of butterflies have somehow made it there. Nor could I tell him that whenever his lips roll up in the tiniest of smiles made just for me, it makes my entire heart burst. I’m even grinning as I think about him. I can’t tell him any of this because I’m sure he doesn’t like me that way. Why would he? He’s cute, and me—not so much. My hair is too thin and pale for starters. What boy would like that?

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over the top of my hand, my head lying over his shoulder.

“That I have ugly hair.”

“What?” He jerks his head back in an instant. “Who gave you that idea?” The way he stares, it’s not with anger at me, but for what I just said.

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