Page 41 of As Angels Sin

“I know. Thank you.”

I reach the hallway leading to my room and in the distance, I see that my door is open. I know I closed it, simply because I always do. In this vast expanse of house, it’s my only sanctuary. My place of peace.

But someone’s inside it.

My first instinct says it’s Crue, and my heart flutters. Then, it sinks, because I realize that if it were him, he’d have chosen to come through the window instead. He’d have surprised me with his arrival, rather than announcing it.

Fuck.

“Are you going to be okay, tonight?” Simone asks as I creep further down the hall.

“I think so.” I stop outside the door, listening for any sign of life inside. Nothing.

“I need to go, Simone.” We should’ve come up with a codeword for when things seemed dangerous. I hope a sudden shift from chatting, away to having to run, will get the point across. “I’ll call you soon.”

I hang up and step into the doorway.

Tomas is sitting on my bed. All the bags I packed are lying open and their contents are scattered across the sheets. He has my copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hand, scanning through the notes I’ve written in it over the years. The antique copy that Crue gave me is resting at his side.

I freeze in place, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Tomas was bound to turn up eventually. He gets his kicks by watching me squirm. I should count my blessings it took this long to happen, after what he did to Father.

“A captivating read,” he shuts the book and waves it in my direction. “Particularly the scribbles. Mad ramblings and deep desires.” He tosses the book over his shoulder, and lazily shifts his eyes in my direction.

“What are you doing here, Tomas?” I’m rooted in place, unable to move or run. Fear takes a hold of my chest, squeezing the oxygen out of my lungs.

I’m scared.

More than scared.

I’m terrified.

“It’s time you and I had a chat, Fiametta. About the here and now. About the future.” He stands up.

“We don’t have much of it, so we better get started.”

Chapter Nineteen

CRUE

What a perfect night.

A bloated moon hangs heavily in the sky among dimly lit stars. The air is warm, with a light breeze blowing in from wherever, keeping me cool. In the empty sky, no clouds block the glorious gleam of the moon’s rich, decadent, cheese-colored glow.

That thing inside me? It's my shadow. What was once a source of turmoil, has grown cautious with time. Can it be? Has it grown soft, without a plaything to satiate its hunger? Of course not. It’s a voice in my head — a skull fuck shriek, igniting my base instincts. It keeps me tip-top, thus ensuring my survival.

It isn’t screaming, tonight, though. Tonight, it simply speaks. Calmly. Passing on the message I need to hear.

Release the reins. Loosen the shackles. Kill.

Make them hurt. Make them suffer. Kill all who stand in your way.

Feed on their anguish and bathe in their destruction.

But rarely as it happens, I’m one step ahead of my shadow this time. It is preaching to a dark choir. My mind is already made up and my decision is final. Those vile men will pay. Each will pay a pound of flesh for every tear Fiametta has shed in mourning. With my shadow’s guidance, and by my own hand, they will be welcomed into the black nothingness.

I’m outside her window again. Watching. Protecting.

The last is a lie, I know. I am telling myself what I want to believe, so that I feel better about seeing her trapped in her room with Tomas.

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