Page 4 of Brutal King

That’s because she assumes the Sinacores are rich, not that we’re part of the mafia. If she knew, I doubt she’d still want to hang out. I can’t afford to lose my only friend.

Loathe as I am to do it, I make my way to the car. But I’m not two steps in when the tip of my sneaker catches on a crack in the sidewalk. I brace for impact, my hands in front of me protectively as I go down.

Strong arms wrap around my waist and I land gently on my knees. I immediately turn to see who has just rescued me from the nasty fall, but before I can catch more than a glimpse of dark hair, the tall guy is walking away, his gray hoodie concealing him from view.

“Thanks!” I call out after him.

He waves a hand over his head in a “no-problem” sort of gesture.

“Are you all right, miss Sofia?” Victor is in front of me now, offering his hand.

I take it and he pulls me up onto my feet. “Did you see that? I almost ate shit.”

“I saw.”

“Lucky that guy was passing by.”

Victor gives me a curt nod as he looks toward the guy who is quite far now. “Lucky.” I walk behind him to the Cadillac sedan. He opens the back door for me. “I hope you enjoyed your day.”

I toss my bag inside, but pause before getting in myself. “Were you following me this whole time? Or does Luca have a tracer on me somewhere.”

“Yes.” His one word reply leaves a lot to be desired.

“Yes, you were following me? Or, yes, I have a bug on me.”

“I’m answering the question you didn’t ask.”

“Which is?” I urge him to continue.

“You will always be found. There is nowhere you can hide, that we cannot find you.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It should.”

I wish I could see his eyes through the very dark aviators he likes to wear. It’s kind of hard to read the unmovable hard lines of his face. I can never tell if he’s serious or just messing with me.

Lifting my Cannon EOS to my eye, the lens aimed at him, I say, “Smile.”

He doesn’t flinch when I snap the photo. Doesn’t move a muscle.

“Whatever.” I slip inside the vehicle and he shuts the door. A few minutes later, I’m tucked back behind the safety of my cell at Columbia University.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I ignore it and continue with developing my analog film, transferring to the photo paper, then dipping it into the tray filled with developer, followed by the one with the stop.

I’ve barely pulled the paper from the rinse tray when my phone rings. It’s Luca’s ringtone, the one that’s called Sci-Fi because it feels like I’ve been abducted by aliens since he took over my life.

Of course, I ignore him.

I hang the developed photograph to dry and view my work. A smirk paints across my lips.

“There you are,” I say. Victor’s image stares back at me, and this time, I can seehim.

That’s what I love about photography. You might be able to hide from the naked eye, but not from the lens.

Again, my phone rings.

“Ugh. Fine!” I take off my gloves and exit the darkroom. “Hello.”

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