Page 2 of As Angels Sin

There’s also the intimacy of staring someone in the eyes as the blade pierces their flesh. There is the thrill of the transfer of energy that passes from them to you as the knife sinks in deeper. You become one. Whole. Connected by six-inches of sharpened steel. You watch their soul leave their body with its one final breath.

It’s a thrill like no other. And another reason I can’t do it to her. I will not allow the dark spot to consume her as it has so many. She is still so pure.

Well, as pure as a bullet to the skull can leave someone, anyway.

I lift the gun and center it on her forehead. A gentle squeeze is all it’s going to take, now. Quick and clean and then she will be gone from this world. No different to how she is now, really, with the chemical concoction of my sleepy time drugs flowing through her veins.

She won’t even know it has happened. From black to black, only this time, there’s no waking up.

“Quiet.”

Great. I’m still talking to myself. If I don’t pull the trigger, my darker self is going to get worse. This is the longest I’ve gone without satiating the creature, and it’s not letting me forget it.

Need time to think? You’re doing this, and that’s final.

“I said quiet.”

Rushing won't do me any favors.

I’m being tossed around in a whirlwind. A few minutes ago, I was balls deep inside of Fiametta. Indulging in a different kind of lust; one that seems so innocent and pure compared to this.

Don’t tell me you’re going soft, Crue. We’ve been doing this your entire life. You can’t escape from me. I am Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. You live to serve me, and I live to protect you.

“Shut the fuck up,” I roar at myself and instantly regret my decision.

This isn’t the kind of place to make noise. We’re outside Lorenzo Napoli’s Sanctuary Nightclub. Although it isn’t the place, I wanted Fiametta to find peace, it makes the most sense, given the timing. Napoli goons will find her body easily in these alleyways, clearly sending Matteo Baronne’s message to Lorenzo.

I’d also get my own twisted relief. Vengeance for Lorenzo did to me. His daughter for my mother. An eye for an eye, but starting an endless cycle of slaughter.

“Who’s over there?” A flashlight shines from the far end of the alleyway. It’s two men, both big and burly. The one holding the flashlight has a hand behind his back, ready to draw his pistol. The other one already has his gun out.

Luck. That’s what I’ll chalk it up to. I don’t mean being cornered in a dark corridor with two men eager to kill me, but rather Fiametta’s survival. Instead of shooting at her, I decide to save my own life.

I train the gun on the two goons, who interrupted my ritual, and fire three of my six shots, before starting to run. And run I do, narrowly avoiding the hot sting of one of their bullets.

I’ve been shot before, and I don’t want it to happen again.

What are you doing? Shoot her. NOW!

The darkness is angry at me. I never thought a cloud floating in my head could be angry, not until now. I’m sure it’s going to make me regret this.

I turn into a connected alley, running faster and harder than I’ve ever run before. I can’t go back to the main streets. My caris too far away to reach before they find me. Stepping out of the dark alley and onto the road would be a death sentence, and probably for blocks in every direction.

They will have found Fiametta by now. That’s why they aren’t chasing me as hard as when they started. I take the time to test every door I pass. A quick touch of my hand, fiddling with the handles, in hopes that one of them will turn.

I get lucky again as I reach the end of the alley. One door handle turns and opens into a shop’s back room, colored in red and decorated with oriental trinkets. The room is small with two doors, one open and the other a shut off mystery.

The open door leads into a kitchen, which is filled with the heavy scent of Chinese food and chemical cleaners. It’s empty, and no good to get me out of this jam.

Mystery door it is.

“Son of a bitch ran that way.” A voice alerts my ear, as the door falls shut behind me.

The narrow staircase behind the door leads me down into obscurity and the sickeningly sweet smell of cheap incense. Like the upper floor, the corridor I step onto is adorned in Chinese symbolism, paintings and other paraphernalia. Each step I take forward carries me closer toward the sound of music. I hear voices; low mumbles, satisfiedahhsand a grotesquely wicked screeching woman.

“You can’t do that in here. Are you stupid?” she hisses.

“I’m not doing nothing,” a man grumbles. “Nothing at all. No sir, no how.”

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