Page 149 of Their Reckless Thief
I scooted closer to her. “This explains what happened to your parents. Celeste, they didn’t leave you. They were murdered.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “How would you know that?”
“I have a lot of connections in The Below, and this is what I’m good at. It took longer than I planned, but it was worth it to give you this closure. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Roberto murdered your parents.”
Celeste gasped and covered her mouth, the folder slipping from her grasp.
I pulled her close, gently raking my fingers through her hair. “He had eyes on you for a long time, well before you ran away. Roberto was a stray, and he could recognize special people, like you, when he saw them. He waited until you were old enough to function without your parents, then he waited for an opportune moment. The night they went out on a date, he followed them, murdered them, and disposed of the bodies.”
Celeste shook her head. “I still don’t understand what you’re saying. How could you know this? How do you know what Roberto thought or had planned? This makes no fucking sense, Luca.”
“Roberto liked to document his plans. He kept an electronic journal. After his death, it was easy for my men to access it.” I cupped her face in my hands. “Celeste, look at me. I know this is a hell of a lot to take in, but you needed closure. You needed to know your parents loved you and never would have left you. Not for fucking anything. Just like I’m never going to leave you.”
She buried her face in my neck and sobbed. “Thank you.”
I held her until the sobs subsided, until she went limp against me and dropped into a deep sleep.
We were imperfect, broken in ways that might never fully heal, but together, we were something whole. And maybe, for the first time, I could believe that was enough.
45
CELESTE
A few dayshad passed since that harrowing detox from the Phantomine. All three men had made sure I had someone by my side at all times, and I was slowly starting to feel human again.
I’d insisted that Luca take a break from sitting by my side while I took a shower. The hot water poured over me, soothing my tight muscles as it washed away the stress and grime of the day. I closed my eyes, grounding myself in the silence, in the simple sensation of warmth. It was a rare, quiet moment, and I wished it could last.
As I reached for the soap, I saw a black smudge on my hand. A leftover mark from helping Vivian with heist planning earlier, I thought absently. I rubbed at it with the loofah, but the blackness didn’t budge. If anything, it darkened, pooling across my skin like fresh ink.
I pressed harder, scrubbing the spot with a sudden intensity, but the mark didn’t fade. Instead, the ink bloomed, unfurling like tendrils of smoke spreading across my palm and creeping up my arm. My stomach tightened as the dark shapes twisted and spread, coiling along my skin with a life of their own. Each swirl and line was too perfect, too intricate to be accidental.
“What the hell?” I whispered, a tremor of panic winding its way into my voice. I pressed my fingers into my flesh, hoping somehow to wipe it clean, but the ink merely climbed higher, curling over my wrist and up my forearm to my shoulder, as if it were claiming me inch by inch.
A prickling fear coursed through me, a searing cold that pulsed beneath the surface of my skin. It was as though I could feel the markings in my veins, an icy burn that left my entire arm tingling. No matter how hard I scrubbed, the ink continued to spread, deliberate and unstoppable, curling up toward my neck, closer to my heart with every second.
Panic gripped me in full as I stumbled back, hitting the cold tile wall. My breath came in shallow bursts, the reality of the marks clawing at my mind as I watched, helpless, while the ink kept slithering upward.
In a frantic daze, I stumbled out of the shower and grabbed my robe, barely registering the soft fabric as I yanked it over my damp skin and wrapped it tightly around me, desperate for some sense of protection against the impossible thing marking me. I didn’t pause to think as I bolted out of the bathroom and ran toward Vincenzo’s room.
He’d know what to do.
I burst in without knocking. “Vincenzo, something’s wrong.”
He was out of his seat and at my side in an instant, his eyes narrowing at the sight of me. “What happened?” His gaze followed my trembling hand as I pulled back the robe to reveal the dark, twisting marks snaking over my skin, spiraling up my arm like tendrils of smoke.
“I don’t know, but it won’t come off—” The sight of it was horrifying. It wasn’t stopping. “It keeps spreading.”
He didn’t answer, but the tension in his gaze sharpened. Vincenzo raised his hand, and before I could take a step back, he cupped my arm gently, his fingers brushing over the marks. Hisface tightened, and he let out a string of curses, pulling out his phone and calling Dorian and Luca. The desperation in his voice was as unsettling as the marks crawling up my skin.
A knock on the door announced Vivian’s arrival. She poked her head in, concern etched on her face. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
I thrust my arm toward her, the markings shimmering in the faint light. “This blackness is spreading up my arm. It won’t stop.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, but her brow furrowed in confusion. “Celeste, what are you talking about? I don’t see anything.”
The blood drained from my face as I looked down at my arm. The marks twisted and pulsed as if mocking me. “What do you mean you can’t see it?” My voice cracked, panic clawing its way to the surface. “Don’t you see these damn black markings twisting up my arm?”
Her face went pale, and she took a step back, looking between me and Vincenzo, as if unsure who to believe. “Celeste… there’s nothing there.”
