Page 56 of The Beautiful Dead

“You already know the answer to that.”

Remi rolled his eyes and huffed a breathy laugh. “Last night.” He swallowed his Adam’s apple, grazing my palm. “You knew what Brielle was doing.” He tilted his head to the side as much as my grip would allow. “So tell me who you really are.”

“You’ve seen me kill someone with my bare hands.” He nodded. “A normal person wouldn’t do that.” I ran my nose along the side of his face, inhaling his earthy, mossy scent. When I next spoke, my lips brushed the sensitive skin of his ear. “Inside, you already know the answer.”

“I do,” he rasped. “But I want you to say it.”

I released him from my hold and slipped out of bed. “I’m Domino DeMarco. My father, Federico DeMarco, is the Don, and Marlow Heights is ours.”

Silence settled over the room as Remi processed what I told him. I walked into my closet and got dressed in an all black suit, securing my holsters and guns before slipping into my jacket. I had an important meeting with Valentin “El Fantasma” Guerra of the Los Espectros cartel to prepare for. The men needed organizing, and the weapons needed to be checked and accounted for. It was a direct trade of weapons for drugs, since our last few arms shipments had been fucked over by the Gallos I needed to recoup quickly and this was the most logical—if not risky—option.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Remi said as I headed back into the bedroom and pulled open the drawer that housed my cufflinks. I tried to get them in, but one just kept slipping and fell to the floor.

“I should be; that would be the normal response, but I’m not.” He slipped out of the bed, silk sheets pooling on the floor. He picked up the cufflink and put it on for me. “I want to know how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

I swallowed, and the muscles in my jaw ticked. “Get dressed.” I ordered. “I have a meeting this afternoon that I need to prepare for. You can come.” I wrapped my hand around his throat and tipped his head back with my thumb to stare into his eyes and see his reaction. “But you stay with me, and you keep quiet,piccolo agnello.”

The rain had been fallingfor hours, it drummed against the metal roof of my SUV as Ghost drove us into the abandoned train yard. Valentin had set the time and the location. I’d hadmen out on site scouting it, giving us another layer of defense if this deal went south, but we hadn’t heard back from them. I checked my Glock, which was in a holster on my hip, and then the SIG Sauer P228 that was hidden on my back. I’d sharpened my switchblade already.

“This is for you.” I handed Remi a blade of his own, a serpent wound around the handle. “Keep it somewhere easily accessible.”

“We’re here, boss.”

Ghost looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Have we heard back from Dante and his team?”

“No.”

A growl rumbled in my chest, and my senses sharpened. “Track them and update me.”

Ghost handed me two earpieces. I turned them on and gave one to Remi. “Put it in, but remember to stay silent. You are here to observe only.”

“Are you sure about this?” I glared at Ghost, silencing his protest. He didn’t know Remi like I did. Didn’t know what lurked beneath the surface, the monster in him that stalked his mind, itching to be freed. Soon, he would. Soon, they all would.

We stepped out of the SUV together. Remi moved silently by my side as the rain continued to fall. It slithered through the cracks in the pavement, seeped into the rusted husks of abandoned freight cars, and dripped from the heavens like blood.

The air was thick—iron and oil, decay and inevitability. It smelled like death. Like home.

I adjusted the cuff of my suit, smoothing the sharp black fabric as I waited for the rest of my men to get into position. They carried over two crates of pure processed cocaine, packaged into 8-balls and half-balls per my previous discussion with Valentin. In payment, he should have five crates of weaponsranging from handguns, rifles, grenades, and C4. Today was a test to see if this partnership would be profitable on both sides.

Remi stood beside me, looking like he belonged to the night. He was wrapped in black jeans, my hoodie, his leather jacket, his breath curling into the cold like a whispered secret. Rain had plastered his black and white hair to his forehead and streaked down his sharp cheekbones.

He didn’t even flinch when thunder growled across the sky. He was too still. Too quiet. Watching, calculating what was going on as men moved around us from both sides. Tension was running high; one spark and everything would implode. His ice-blue eyes hit mine, shadows running through them like he’d finally realized the world he’d stepped into.

I wanted him to see it. To feel it. To understand that this world—this violence, this bloodstained kingdom—belonged to him, the same way he belonged to me. I knew he could handle it. He was built for it. For blood and torture. For death.

The cartel members ahead of us shifted, murmuring among themselves. Their unease was clear in the flick of their eyes and the way their fingers twitched near their weapons as they waited for their leader to arrive.

I didn’t blame them.

They should be afraid.

I wasn’t thinking about the deal. I was thinking about Remi. How beautiful he looked standing in the downpour, his pulse a steady, rhythmic drum beneath his skin.

How I wanted to press my fingers against his throat, feel that delicate beat, squeeze just to see if he’d let me. Would he fight me? Would he submit? Or would he stare at me with that dark, endless hunger in his eyes and ask for more?

My fingers flexed as I reined in the urge to test him here, now. I could already see the way his mind was shifting, the slowunraveling of his innocence. I would be there to catch him when he finally fell and joined me in this hell because Remi was mine.

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