Page 70 of The Devil's Den

My breathing rolls out harshly as my attention darts from her to Aida, an ache battering behind my eyes…in the back of my throat.

My vision grows hazy by the second as I lift the gun in the air, and never has my hand shook this badly, not even when I first held a gun they gave me when I was a child. But right now, with the magnitude of who I have to kill, I can’t make it stop.

“Matteo, please!” Aida wails. “You promised me. You swore. Y-you can’t break that p-p-promise.” Her chest climbs higher with every breath.

“Ten, nine…” Agnelo counts with excitement, the light dancing like a flame in his eyes as he stares at me, then at them.

“Do it!” Ms. Greco yells. “Kill me!”

“No!” Aida fights the man’s grasp, her whole body shaking violently.

I level the gun, my pulse exploding in my neck.

“Three. Two.”

Pop.

The bullet roars to life, like it’s in slow motion, and once it hits her right in between the eyes, she falls on the ground with a heavy thud.

And Aida, her scream, that gasping cry—it’s a sound I’ll never forget.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

AIDA

There wasa time I thought I could trust him, that he’d never be the source of my pain, but how wrong I was.

He swore I could always count on him, the one to protect me, but instead, he took the only mother I ever had, and murdered her before my very eyes.

My lashes flutter to a close, the tears staining my cheeks as I silently cry. Robby plays with some Legos on the floor, not realizing anything is wrong.

It’s only been a day. Why would he think her not being here would be cause for alarm? But she’s gone forever, and Matteo took her from us. My heart, it hurts so bad. It’s like he reached inside and ripped it out, the emptiness gnawing at the wound in my soul.

How could he do this? How could he betray the promise he made me? Instead, his deception was like a double-edged sword. He lied. He didn’t give me the mercy of death. Instead, he brought more hell right to my feet by taking her away.

“Do you think Ms. Greco will make brownies today?”

I choke on the cry strangled in my throat, his innocent question causing gut-wrenching pain. Robby stacks some more Legos, his belly on the floor, legs bent at the knees, thankfully not looking at me. “She told me we could bake them together,” he continues. “I really love her brownies.”

I bite into my inner cheek. I attempt like hell not to let him hear me cry, but he does anyway because my suffering is too insurmountable to contain.

His large blue eyes zap to me as he instantly sits up, a single block clacking to the floor. His brows bend. “What’s wrong, Aida?” He’s incredibly perceptive for a seven-year-old and there’s no way I’ll lie to him.

“There’s something we have to talk about, Robby. Something sad.”

“Did—did something happen to Ms. Greco?”

My chin trembles, and I slap a palm to the middle of my chest, my eyes leaking at the corners. “Yes.”

“Will—will she be okay?”

I shake my head, grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry, Robby. She had an accident…and she…she died,” I whisper, strangling out the words.

He gasps, his gaze awash with his own grief. “Does that mean she isn’t coming back?” His body shudders with a cry matching my own.

“That’s right,” I snivel. “She isn’t.”

With a weep, he climbs onto my lap, and together, we let each other feel the torment of losing someone we desperately loved.

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