Page 69 of Dreadful
“Beautiful. No washing off. I’m inside you now, and I want to stay that way.”
He wraps me in his arms before rolling over to lie on his back. The move makes him grunt, reminding me that he’s injured. I lay against his chest, careful not to hurt him, and rest my hand next to the wound I tended to earlier. Thankfully my stitching has held, and it seems the pain medicine is working given everything that just happened.
What if I hadn’t stitched him up? Could he have bled out?
Anxiety runs cold under my veins at the thought, and I squeeze his waist. He grabs my thigh and lifts my leg to rest against him, just under his semi-hard cock. When I try to shift, he lets me, but his hand stays wrapped around my thigh.
“There’s no more running after tonight, Tallie. Whatever we’re afraid of, we’ll face it together.”
Whatever we’re afraid of…
I’ve always wanted to be the one that others were afraid of. I was scared for so long as a child that I worked to cut the weakness from me as an adult. But ever since I met Sever, it’s become an undercurrent in every thought.
What if I get caught? What if I’m found out? What if I never get to finish my list?
One of these days, Sever will find out about the real me. I used to relish in the idea that everyone would finally know who I am, but now I’m not so sure. The satisfaction on his face when he killed Percy, forme, makes me wonder if he’d embrace me for who I am. But would he do it again if he knew who I was? If I trust Sever with my secrets, will he use them against me, or will he become another weapon I can use? Or will he be something else all together?
I have time to find out. There are still more names on my list that I can recon first. The capo is still up in the air right now, but I can at least nail down the schedules of the rest. Once I establish their routine, hopefully I can attack before I get caught—
Panic zings through my skull like a migraine at the fear that’s tormented me for weeks. My familiar little tune drifts through my mind, and I recount all that I have left, trying not to dwell on the obstacles ahead of me.
Butler.Maids.Gardener.Driver.Capo? Priest. Judge.Godmother.Godfather… The boy?
Scene 20
…IS BUT A SHADOW
Sever
Alullaby hums in my mind, gently waking me from my sleep. Whiffs of earthy flowers and sugar make my mouth water. I stretch, only to have searing pain shoot up my leg and down from my chest.
“Porca miseria. Holy shit.”
The stabbing aches bring all my memories to the forefront of my mind. All of them. The bad. The good. The carnal.
My uncle setting me up with his mind games to pit me against my enemy and his latest minion.
Tallie tending to my wounds.
Tallie coming in my arms.
My cock perks up at the last one. I reach out to bring her back to me, but my hand only comes up with cool sheets. My eyes flicker open, and I sit up to look around. Fire radiates from my upper chest again.
“Ah, fuck me.” I press underneath my clavicle where that judge took his shot. He never would’ve even gotten close if my cousins hadn’t been holding me back.
As if on cue, a phone vibrates nearby. If it’s mine, I have no doubt it’s been going off incessantly. My messages are probably filled with concern and apologies from four different people. Three I may accept. One I’ll never believe again.
I push the thought aside and sit up more gingerly this time. On the bedside table is a stack of clothes, perfectly folded. I sift through them to find a large, long-sleeved black T-shirt, much like the one Tallie wore last night. The rest of the layers are my pants, boxer briefs, and socks, while my shoes are lined up to fit in between the legs of the table. I don’t know where my jacket and shirt are, but considering the neat display beside me, I’m sure Tallie has put them somewhere tidy.
She could’ve left all my clothes strewn on the floor for me to gather up myself. I’m not shocked that she picked them up or that she folded them. It’s the fact that she cleared off the precisely organized surface to set them closer for me.
Warmth fills my chest. I swallow back the inexplicable lump in my throat as I tug the clothes on. I’m careful to avoid aggravating my injuries, and I leave the worst—my socks and shoes—for last.
From the outside, the only difference between my legs is the scar on my thigh and my slightly larger right ankle. The enlarged joint forces my foot to curve inward. When I focus on flattening my foot as I walk, however, the awkward angle and the ache it causes are hardly noticeable in my gait.
But that’s how pain is. Invisible. It comes and it goes, some days are worse than others. Today will be on the “worse” side thanks to my uncle, but I’ll get through it. I always do.
The blood loss must’ve gotten the better of me while I slept, because at some point, Tallie used her makeshift gauze to wrap my foot. If I’d been awake, it might have hurt enough to make me pass out, so I’m thankful that she did it when I was unconscious. The wrap helped, but my ankle is still the size of a softball, and the swelling has spread to my foot and upper shin. If I didn’t already have mods on my bike, it’d make riding home impossible. I’m sure Claudio hoped I wouldn’t make it back to the North End in one piece. Good thing thestronzohas always underestimated me.
