Page 77 of The Devil's Den

Maybe death is the only way one can escape Agnelo. And that is the saddest thing of all—not really living, counting down to your own death.

“I—I’m sorry,” I say. “I love you!”

“Thr—”

I rip the weapon from Agnelo’s clutches, and without another moment’s thought, I pull the trigger.

Pop.

“No! Matteo!” His body slumps backward and my ears drown with my own screams, calling his name as I crawl to him, tears seeping down my face. But I don’t get far, Agnelo’s grip holding me back.

“It’s time to say goodbye. To him. This house. This life. It’s over for you.” He yanks me backward toward the stairs.

But I ignore him, my eyes still fastened to Matteo, just lying there. Helpless.

Dead.

Oh my God, he’s dead!

I break with another wave of sobbing.

I killed him.

Suddenly, we’re not alone. Multiple people rush down the stairs, and the next thing I know, one of them hauls me from behind, while another heads for Matteo, whacking him hard on the top of his head with a gun.

“Matteo!” I scream, unable to stop calling for him, my fingertips fighting to touch him, just one more time.

“You know where to take her,” Agnelo tells one of the men.

“Wha—?” I breathe heavy, my eyes widening. “Whe-where am I going? What are you doing? Where’s Robby?”

“He’s not your concern anymore,” he calmly tosses.

“No! I won’t go! I’ll be good. Please.” I fight and scratch at the burly, tall man who’s already dragging me up the stairs by my arm, and Agnelo falls out of view.

The man stops, gripping my throat, bashing the back of my head into the wall. “Don’t make me knock you out, girl.” My temples throb as he once again tugs me up and into the main floor, heading for the door.

“Robby!” I call for him. “Where are you?” Oh my God, did they hurt him? Is he dead? My pulse knocks in my ears. “Robby!” I scream until my throat aches, but there’s no sign of him. “I need my shoes!” Anything to kill time, to find him.

“You don’t need no shoes where you’re goin’.” The man’s callous tone grates up my flesh, like a scratch across a chalkboard.

He drags me out the door, the concrete grinding beneath my bare feet, to a fate far worse than I’ve yet to know.

* * *

MATTEO

“Drug—burrry hi—” There’s a flash of voices that filter in and out, the light in my eyes flickering, like I’m fighting to stay alive. My head buzzes with a sound and my shoulder throbs. But I’m still breathing. I know that much.

“Yes, sir,” someone says, a hand around my neck, then hands grab my ankles. I can feel them pressing into me, dragging me away.

“Lift—up—stairs.”

Then I’m off the ground, being hauled in the air. I keep my eyes shut, needing them to think I’m out cold.

We’re upstairs now, and someone opens the door, cool air hitting me. From the corner of my eye, I can see a white van, then I’m being thrown in it.

Fuck!

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