Page 211 of The Devil's Thorn
The silence returned—thick and stretching—but it didn’t press down the way it used to. It just… lingered. A quiet hum beneath the night, broken only by the sound of the wind brushing against the railing and the faint city sounds below.
I let the pendant swing slightly between my fingers, catching the moonlight. The chain glinted, delicate and old, and I twisted it once, then again.
The weight of Rafael’s gaze tugged at me before he even spoke. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward my hand. His voice wasn’t demanding—it was calm. Curious. But sharp beneath it all. Always sharp.
I glanced down at the charm resting in my palm. “This?” I asked, fingers curling around it. “Just a pendant. Anna gave it to me the day we left.”
He turned to face me more, his expression unreadable in the dark. “Anna? The woman you were talking to that night?”
I nodded slowly. “She couldn’t sleep. Called me. Said she had a feeling.”
Rafael’s eyes dropped back to the pendant. “What kind of feeling?”
I shook my head. “She just said she thought I might need some luck.”
He stepped closer, gaze narrowing slightly as he studied the pendant. It was old. Ornate. A small silver medallion with a swirling pattern etched into the surface and a deep red stone pressed into the center like a drop of blood that refused to fade. Something about it made the air shift.
“You said Anna gave it to you,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” I murmured, brows pulling together. “She called it alucky charm. Said it belonged to someone who meant a lot to her once.”
His jaw ticked just slightly. Barely there—but I caught it. “Do you know who?”
I looked down at the pendant. “She never said. And I didn’t ask. It just felt… kind of personal, I guess.”
He was still staring at it. Still not blinking.
“Do you recognize it?” I asked, voice soft.
He shook his head once, but not with certainty. “No. Just… familiar. Like I’ve seen something like it before.”
I studied him, searching his face. “Maybe it’s common. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Maybe,” he said, but his voice didn’t match the word. There was something unsettled about the way he looked at it. Not alarmed. Just… thoughtful. Like some part of him was digging through memories he couldn’t reach.
I curled my fingers around it again and tucked the pendant beneath the collar of my shirt. “If you’re worried it’s cursed,” I said dryly, “you can relax. I don’t think it bites.”
That earned me the faintest smirk. “Does everything you wear have to be a weapon?”
I raised a brow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
He didn’t.
We stood in silence again, the wind curling around us, brushing my hair across my cheek and stealing the tension with it.
But I could feel his thoughts from here—knotted and calculating, always moving. Still staring at me like the pieces weren’t fitting the way they should. Still not realizing that I wasn’t sure what pieces I even had to give him.
Rafael hadn’t moved, and neither had I. The city sprawled out below, lights twinkling in a quiet rhythm that made the night feel deceptively calm. The pendant was warm where it rested against my skin now, tucked away, but not forgotten. His question still lingered in the air—pressing against my thoughts like the wind pressing against my back.
He tilted his head slightly, still watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Were you ever familiar with organized crime before you met me?”
The words were casual. Effortless. But nothing about them felt simple. I glanced at him. His eyes were steady. Calm. I swallowed, tightening my arms across my chest. “Familiar?” I echoed. “Not exactly.”
He didn’t respond right away, so I kept going. “I mean, I knew it existed. You don’t grow up in the world I did and stay that naive. But no. I was neverinit. Not like this.”
A breath passed. Not quite silence. Just a pause.
His voice dropped a little. “Did your mother ever mention anything about the Italian families? About their world?”
