Page 22 of Kissing the Villain

He hit a button on his collar and turned his head, speaking to someone in hushed tones. Then, he bent down and said, “Mr. Salvatore is not accepting visitors.”

“No, you tell him to open this gate and let me inside, or I will…”

What would I do?

I had no power over Luca.

“I’m sorry, Miss Wellington,” the man replied, his tone devoid of emotion. “Turn around and go home.”

I knew Luca issued the order over the comm in his ear. That bastard had denied me access because he’d done something to my brother. Aiden had been staying out all night for weeks. He also looked like he was using drugs. He was a shell of the person he was before we’d moved to Devil’s Creek.

This town was a black hole.

The longer we were apart, the more I felt my mental health slipping. He was the glue holding me together, the one person who made me whole.

Determined to get answers, I parked at the bottom of the hill leading out of Devil’s Creek, hiding my BMW between other luxury cars. Playing detective was my last resort. Luca hadn’t given me another option.

After waiting thirty minutes in the dark, Luca’s Aston Martin Vantage flew past me and headed toward Beacon Bay. He was so predictable. I knew my sudden arrival at his house would jolt him into action.

Keeping a safe distance, I tailed Luca through the sleepy seaside town. He drove past the waterside mansions closest to Devil’s Creek and went south. The houses were smaller and dilapidated, interspersed between warehouses and crumbling storefronts—a vast difference from the north side.

Luca eventually stopped at The River Styx. Several drunk men staggered out the door, beer bottles in hand. They lit cigarettes and drank, leaning against the spray-painted brick wall.

A sudden unease filled my stomach. I hesitated for a second, fear shaking through my limbs. I’d had the same horrible feeling the night Luca introduced Aiden to The Serpents.

Luca bypassed the front door and turned right into the alley. I wasn’t a fan of dark, cramped spaces. After years of my mother locking me in the closet, I hated feeling trapped.

What choice did I have?

This was my opportunity to expose Luca’s lies.

“Hey, baby,” one of the drunk guys yelled as I crossed the street. “Come chill with us.”

“Yeah,” his blond friend said, “we’ll take good care of you.”

Nerves slithered down my spine, heightening my already intensified senses. My heart raced so fast that each breath hurt my chest.

Please don’t follow me.

I wiped my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans and ignored the leering men, doing my best to calm down. But it was too late. My mind and body were out of sync, no longer working in unison.

Not the best time for a panic attack.

Thankfully, the men forgot all about me as I entered the alleyway. The backs of storefronts lined both sides. My nose tipped up at the smelly dumpsters overflowing with trash. More bags and discarded cartons were scattered across the ground.

Between the dank smell, the heat flushing my skin, and the ringing in my ears, the brick walls were closing around me.

It was too dark.

Too hot.

Too quiet.

Suddenly, I was transported to my childhood.

Locked doors.

Dark closets.

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