Page 36 of Cinder
I study my new driver’s license. In the photo, I have blonde hair and bangs. I look at the other ID and it all looks real.
I look at my new last name.Antonio.
Luca’s middle name.
Meant as another reminder that he owns me, no doubt.
Until he hands me over to Viktor.
“Viktor’s man also created a small history of you online should those biker fucks decide to dig further into your past.”
“I told you, they already did that with facial recognition,” I say.
“Yes, but Viktor’s man was able to create some kind of plausible reasoning for that. Something to do with facial configurations or something.” He waves it off. “Your job is not tounderstand how others do their job. It’s to make sure you do as I tell you.”
He also hands me a phone, which also looks like it’s from the last century.
“This is so I can contact you. If you don’t answer, I will see it as a breach of trust.”
One day, I am going to shove this phone down his throat and watch as he chokes on it. But until then, I nod, biding my time until I can do exactly that.
“And before you think about calling anyone else, just remember, I have access to the calls you make.”
It’s a burner phone. Not even Luca Moretti is that powerful. But again, I just nod.
“Don’t let me down, sister. Or I’ll have my men show Lucretia what happens to those who disobey me.”
I don’t look at him. Just him mentioning Lucretia makes me burn with hatred.
Instead, I imagine myself stabbing him in the heart and then cutting it from his body. It makes it easier to force the compliant smile across my lips.
“I know what is expected of me,” I say.
“Good, otherwise it will be too easy for you to fuck this up.”
He walks out of the motel room as if he is the most important man in the world. As if he was the man who built the mighty Moretti empire.As if he isn’t an evil monster who sold his half-sister to another evil monster.
I watch as his driver opens his car door, and Luca slides in and puts on his sunglasses. When the door closes and the darkened window rolls down, he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me from behind black sunglasses as the car pulls away.
I close the door behind me and let out a quiet squeal.
I can breathe.
I can finally fucking breathe.
The next morning,I wake up feeling well rested and happy after sleeping better than I have in the past three months. Despite the scratchy sheets and the groan of the ancient plumbing whenever anyone in the motel used it throughout the night.
Before climbing out of bed, I stretch and inhale a deep breath, then relax and feel a foreign contentment soften my limbs. This place is gross. But it is a haven where I can take a moment to figure things out.
After a quick shower, where I successfully dodge a couple of patches of mold in the cubicle, I dress in a pair of denim shorts, a faded band T-shirt, and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots Luca had one of his staff pick up from the thrift store.
Taking in my reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall, I can’t help but smile at what I see, and I twirl and laugh even though I have no idea why.
Maybe it’s because being dressed this way makes it easier to believe I am this carefree version of myself. Ella, the girl with no past. The free spirit who works at an MC clubhouse and who doesn’t have a care in the world.
Or an evil half-brother whose men will always be waiting outside their motel rooms whenever she comes and goes.
There is a knock at the door, and my smile vanishes.
