Page 74 of The Devil's Den

Then, just like that, I smile again.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

AIDA

TWO WEEKS LATER

The last coupleof weeks have been uneventful, which for us is a good thing. I’m still dealing with my nightmares, unable to do anything with Matteo other than kiss him. He’s patient and kind. Too good to me.

The loss of Ms. Greco still haunts me, but we all try to deal with it the best we can. I vow to find her family and tell them what happened and how much she meant to me.

I don’t know where Agnelo threw her body, and I doubt anyone had informed her mom or sister that she’s gone. I could just imagine how upset they are, not knowing where she is.

Her family probably has already assumed the worst, knowing who she works for. But even still, they deserve closure. They need to hear it from me, someone who actually saw her die.

Her sacrifice for me, even in her final moments, is nothing but heroic. She always stood up for me in one way or another, and even while facing death, she fought for me—the daughter of her tormentor.

Sitting in the kitchen with Robby, we munch on some leftover baked ziti I had made yesterday. “I love ziti.” He coughs suddenly, placing his fork down as he’s unable to catch his breath.

I’m instantly on my feet, opening his bottle of water, stroking his back as he continues to cough. Once the coughing fit eases, I hand him the bottle. “Drink a few sips, buddy.”

He slowly does, his eyes watery as he looks up at me. Once he’s done, he hands it back and coughs again.

“Do you feel sick?” My brows huddle.

“I think so. My throat hurt me a little yesterday.”

“Robby, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gotten you medicine.”

“I’m sorry.” He frowns. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble.”

“Why would I get into trouble?”

“Because he’s always yelling at you.”

I let out a sharp breath, a bout of sadness gripping my heart. “Oh, Robby. I love you. Don’t ever hide when you don’t feel well, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Try to eat if you can.”

He nods, picking up his fork, taking a few bites as I take my seat across from him at the kitchen table.

As though knowing we’re having a nice time, Agnelo comes stomping in, scratching the side of his gray hair.

“Where’s my fucking lunch?” he barks, his fist hitting the counter, causing my plate to rattle, some sauce spilling over.

Robby’s fork clatters against the ceramic plate, his hand clutching my thigh, those small fingers digging into me, his face hiding in my side. Fear, that’s all this poor child has ever known. He would’ve been better off with someone else. I’m almost sure of that.

“Fridge,” I answer firmly, picking up my fork and continuing to eat. The next thing I know, my plate is swiped from the counter, cracking into pieces scattered across the floor.

“What the hell?” I grit.

“You stupid little bitch! I ask you for food and that’s your answer?” He reaches for my throat, clasping it tight as he lifts me off the chair. “You still don’t know any better, do you? You’ve learned nothing,” he grits.

My throat aches, and I cling to every tiny fragment of a breath he allows, but his grip only tightens. “You should’ve gotten off your lazy ass and served me the food that I buy.” He spits in my face.

“Aida!” Robby cries, and I try to twist to look at him, but it’s impossible.

---