Page 95 of Phantom Mine

“My brother’s handiwork.”

Valentina’s fingers tremble as she touches me, running down the long vertical line of scarring that anchors the large letter ‘R’ that’s been burned into my back.

“He…” She doesn’t seem to be able to finish her sentence so I do it for her. “He…”

“He branded me.”

A choked sound comes from behind me and I hate that she pities me. She traces the lettering back up, across my shoulder blades and to the right where it loops back down and joins the left side, only to jut once more out to the right. The ‘R’ covers almost the entirety of my back.

“He’s a real artist. He took his time with it,” I say acerbically. “Years of torture using many different instruments —cigarettes, cigars, blades, pokers, rods, anything he could get hot and burn me with, really. His favorite was the cigars. The skin would often get infected and he’d get to watch me struggle through that pain for weeks afterwards.”

“Y-your father—”

“My father helped.” A humorless chuckle escapes me. “You don’t get away with this type of torture without your parents knowing about it. They didn’t care. Rocco is the heir, I’m the spare. I was his to practice with if he wanted. He’d burn me, I’d heal, and he’d burn me again. It went on like that until he killed Susana and I finally left home.” Valentina’s hand moves silently along the mutilated flesh, her fingers unafraid to touch, her touch undoing years of festering bitterness and hatred I’ve held for my deformity. “I might have escaped, but he won in the end. That fear of fire burns inside me no matter how much I try to quell it. It’s a constant reminder that he has a hold over me.”

My stomach twists when she stays silent. I wish I could see her face. “You said scars didn’t scare y—”

Valentina is speaking before I’ve even finished.

“I’m going to kill him,” she hisses from behind me, the words carried with such venom that, for a second, I don’t believe she’s the one who’s said them.

I turn then and realize that it wasn’t pity I heard earlier, but anger. It burns bright and formidable in her gaze, so potent it’s as if I can see the very flames of her fury alive in her eyes.

She looks consumed by her rage, far beyond what I’d expect her to feel for me alone.

Behind the anger, I see in her gaze that she realizes how alike we are. Both of us haunted by pain, mine physical, hers emotional.

Her scars may not be visible, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. We’re two broken pieces that should never work, but that somehow came together in what’s starting to feel like an oddly perfect fit. I cup the side of her face, rubbing my thumb over the smeared lipstick on her cheek to wipe it away.

“His life is mine,cara.”

“You better hope I don’t get the opportunity then, because if I do, I promise you I’ll kill him myself.”

This time when I chuckle, there’s real humor in it. I sober when I see the determined expression on her face. She’s dead serious.

“It’s my fault Susana died. I should have left before he hurt her instead of letting him escalate—”

“You were eighteen!” she interjects.

“—I made a mistake.” My gaze hardens, my hand tightening on her face. I grab her waist and pull her close. “But I won’t make the same one with you,cara mia. I’ve warned you away from him in the past and you haven’t listened, but now you know what he’s capable of. Stay away from him, Leni. Stay away from his office. You’ve seen what he’s capable of doing to his own brother—if he catches you, he won’t just kill you, he’ll torture you and he’ll enjoy every single second of it, and this time I won’t be there to save you.”

My heart lurches in my chest at the thought of Valentina caught in Rocco’s clutches, suffering at his hands. Violence unlike anything I’ve ever felt before surges through me, bringing a red mist before my eyes and a bloodlust to my hands that needs sating.

“Promise me you won’t go looking for him,” I demand. “Promise me you’ll stay away.”

Valentina’s hand comes up to clutch the back of mine. She holds it firmly as she promises, “I’ll stay away from him.”

Her eyes stare deep into my soul, impressing upon me the vow she’s making and begging me to believe her. I bring my mouth to hers in a searing, cherry-flavored kiss.

When we separate, we smile at each other like we don’t both know she just lied to me.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Valentina

“Cazzo, Melody,” Stefano curses. “I asked for the two whiskeys neat, not on the rocks.”

“Shit,” I say, giving him two fresh pours. “I’m sorry.”

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