Page 99 of Brutal Devil
“Handle it,” I order him quietly.
Saint downs the rest of his whiskey, knowing when to argue with me and when to retreat. Quietly, he leaves me alone in the gym, blood still trickling down my battered and bruised knuckles. In the silence he’s left behind, I go back to the punching bag, pummeling the shit out of it.
None of this was part of the plan.
I was never supposed to become obsessed with my wife. Tomasso Revello was never supposed to get clipped at our wedding. Amedeo the Animal wasn’t supposed to have anystrings to pull. And the two families were meant to combine peacefully.
It was supposed to be an arranged marriage that brought all the chess pieces carefully into place on the board.
It wasn’t supposed to be a bloody fucking war.
Chapter 24
LUNA
This was supposed to be my last year of postgrad.
It was supposed to be when I finished my creative thesis.
When I had a completed poetry manuscript ready to submit to literary presses. When I had enough poetry publications under my belt to make my work stand out in a sea of so many poets. When I decided where to apply as an assistant professor.
This was supposed to be the academic year that started the rest of my life.
And in a way, I guess it was.
But instead of any of the plans I made for myself, it’s not even October, and I’m already moving back to the world I thought I’d made a clean break from. Moving into a Mafia don’s penthouse apartment where I’ll be a sitting duck for anyone who wants to make an example out of me, the same way they did to my father and my brother before me.
All the worldly possessions that are the most important to me are gathered into three boxes at my feet.
Three. Fucking. Boxes.
“This it, Mrs. Andriani?” asks one of the henchmen my husband has tasked with moving my belongings this morning.
Because why would a Mafia don move his own wife’s shit?
I haven’t seen Priest since last night when he told me that I’m going to be a sacrifice to the Mafia gods all so that our two families can be united. Well, that’s not what he said in so many words, but he may as well have. His intentions are the same.
“That’s it,” I tell the stony-faced kid in front of me.
He’s younger than me, no more than seventeen, I’d guess. A high-school student. Is he already a made man? I wouldn’t put it past the Andrianis. It’s about time I started focusing on the plain facts—this family is the enemy. They always have been, and they always will be.
Last night, after the vicious fallout from Priest’s announcement, I realized something about myself. I’ve been stupid. I lowered my guard. And somehow, I allowed myself to catch feelings for a gangster.
That’s why it hurt so much.
Why it felt like my guts were being ripped out of my body.
Why the fact that I’m being used as a pawn for the second time in a few short weeks is such a massive betrayal. Both men who put me in these precarious positions were men I cared about.
First, my father.
Then, my husband.
Neither of them deserved it.
Both of them are willing to use me to get what they want.
I should have known better.
