Page 115 of The Hate We Breathe
Red, yellow, and orange colors flick together, dancing back and forth.
“Gio…” Darrio’s voice is a croak now, raw and uneven. “Gio, you don’t want to do this… once you kill a man, you can’t take it back.”
Finally, Gio looks at the man in the pit. “I know,” he says. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
With that, he tosses the lighter into the pit, right where Darrio’s standing. The man tries to dive away, to scramble back, but it’s too late. There are no pleas left. No places left to run in the small hole.
His skin catches fire pretty quickly and then the screams start. At some point, Darrio’s bonds burn away and he uses the freedom to try and scratch his way up.
The guys seem to be expecting it as Gio lifts the gun he retrieved and points it directly at Darrio, shooting out both of his knees so that the other man can’t climb to freedom. When Darrio tries to smother the fire by rolling back and forth against the dirt, Lex goes back to the duffle and comes back with more fuel. They dump it on Darrio’s twisting and melting flesh and I grimace, covering my mouth and nose with my hand at the stench. I doubt I’m going to want to eat meat for a while.
Hours later, after standing guard for what feels like an eternity, there is no more left of Darrio Vargas save for a half-charred body and silence.
It’s done.
Nolan is the first to move. He brushes dirt from his hands, his jaw set tight, his eyes catching mine for a long, unspoken moment. “Ready to go home?”
“Can we get ice cream?” I ask.
Both Gio and Lex turn to look at me. “Seriously?” Gio asks. “You’re hungry afterthat?” He gestures to the smoking and smoldering pit.
I shrug. “Well, I don’t want a fucking steak, but I could go for some mint chip.”
Lex wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Mint is what you brush your teeth with.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever, are we going or what?”
Gio steps closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger at my jaw, calloused and warm. “Let’s bury this piece of shit, and we’ll get you your weird-ass ice cream.”
My hand smacks against his chest with a loud clap. “It’s not weird!”
The guys grumble disagreeably as they move to begin filling the hole. It’s far faster to fill it than it was to dig it, but I’m grateful because now that I mentioned ice cream, Ireallywant some. Hopefully, we can find a place that’s open late.
The four of us walk back through the forest, one of my hands in Gio’s and the other in Nolan’s as Lex carries the gear. Dirt, twigs, and leaves crunch beneath our boots, the world eerily still except for the slow hum of insects in the darkness.
When we reach the edge of the woods, I blink at the haze of light in the distance. We’ve been out all night and a new dawn is here. I spy the small outbuilding next to Nolan’s bike and Lex’s SUV as Gio slows to a stop.
Lex heads forward, carting along the duffle, black bag, and shovels. I turn my face up as Gio tips his head back, eyes locked on the lighter colors bleeding across the horizon.
The sky is wide and endless—stars scattered like ash on velvet. My own gaze takes it all in as Nolan releases my other hand and jogs forward in Lex’s direction, leaving both Gio and me alone. Smart man.
The night air is warm against my skin, the scent of earth and smoke clinging to both Gio and me as I wait for him to speak.
“Even with the sunrise…” Gio murmurs. “The stars still look brighter.”
I follow his gaze and pick out the glittering gems nestled amongst clouds. “Or,” I say, “it could be that we’re just standing still long enough to notice them.”
His lips twitch. “You think?”
A hum vibrates in my throat and I shuffle closer to his side, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I wonder how they’ll look from Eastpoint.”
Gio glances down, the corner of his lips curled up. “Different, probably,” he says.
“Maybe,” I agree. “Different… but also better.”
“Everything’s better with you, Prep Girl.”
I smile and grasp his hand tighter, going onto my toes to press my mouth to his. His lips part for me, letting me take the lead in a way that he normally wouldn’t. It’s soft and sweet, and so damn addictive that I wonder how I ever lived without them.
We’re weeks away from our last days in Silverwood. It’s something that my parents haven’t quite grasped yet. That no matter how many apologies they make—no matter how many times my mother blames Morpheus’ threats for her abandonment or my father blames his lawyers for being unable to get him out of jail—none of it matters. I’m glad my mom’s alive, but the fact is… I don’t need her anymore.
I don’t need either of them.
Not money.
Not acceptance.
All I need is three psychos who would kill for me and each other.
Eastpoint isn’t the end of a chapter, it’s a beginning.
