Page 58 of His Wife

“No, he’s right.” Isaia’s eyes are glazed as he looks at the body, his leather-clad shoulders slumped, his white shirt stained with bourbon. “Nicoli’s right. We were just fucking. We weren’t anything more than fuck-buddies, and still, she winds up dead.” His dark gaze cuts to mine. “More proof that the Del Rossa name is a fucking curse. We ruin everything we touch…don’t we, Alexius?”

There’s this moment between us, a silence that’s so fucking loud, it’s deafening. I know exactly what he’s not saying out loud. That’s been his problem with me ever since I brought Leandra into our lives, the fact that I used her. Corrupted her. And now he can’t fathom the idea that I’ve fallen in love with her and that she feels the same about me, the man who showed her no compassion while my brother offered her kindness by not letting her walk down the aisle alone on her wedding day. That’s the difference between Isaia and me—he has a heart. I don’t. But I have her instead, the woman who siphons life through my veins, and that’s what has my brother so mindfucked when it comes to my wife. It’s a feud between us that’s far from over, but now is not the time or the place.

I look at Maximo. “Any sign of a note?”

“Not that I can see, no.”

“Found it.” Nicoli leans over the black steel barrier, studying the side of Melanie’s face. “Fucker left it in her ear…or at least, what’s left of it.”

Eyes, ears, mouth—it’s this fucker’s pattern of torture. That, and the…God.

My gaze cuts to the top of her thighs. Her ankles are tied, keeping her legs together, but there’s a piece of wood peeking out just below her mutilated sex. The wooden cross.

My stomach coils, and I turn my back to the scene, rubbing my palm across my neck. “We need to get her down from there,” I say to Maximo, who inches closer.

“We should get him out of here first.” He gestures to Isaia, who manages to walk down the stairs only to have the bourbon kick his ass and fall on the last step. I’ve seen my little brother drunk countless times, but this is the first time I’ve seen him both drunk and defeated.

“Caelian is on his way. He can take Isaia home while we take care of shit here.”

Maximo nods, but I can see he’s struggling to keep a straight face. This time our killer hit too close to home. He’s no longer taking a shit on our goddamn front porch. Instead, he’s knocking on our fucking door…and he’s on his way in.

An hour later, Maximo drapes a black sheet over Melanie’s body, mumbling, “Sick fuck,” over and over again.

After Caelian got Isaia out of here, we got her down and removed the note from what was left of her ear. I’ve read it five times, yet the words still aren’t sinking in.

Nicoli is trying to wash the blood from his hands in the kitchen sink, groaning every two seconds. One wouldn’t think he’s a man used to getting his fingers dirty with the blood of others. But I get it. The drop of crimson I managed to get on my sleeve is bugging the shit out of me, and it’s probably because it’s just too damn close for comfort.

Whoever this fucker is, the time is drawing near. I can feel it, the sense of foreboding growing darker with each passing second. He’s getting closer. Ultimately, we will come face to face.

I’m sitting on the sofa holding the bloodstained note in my hand. It’s not really a note. It’s more like a slip of paper scribbled with a message written in blood from the goddamn Antichrist. But it’s the choice of verse that has me confused and scowling. It doesn’t fit the pattern compared to the others. Those had Biblical passages about prostitution and sex, and deception. But this one is different. It doesn’t fit the mold. It’s like it’s a message, a warning.

I shake my head. “Something isn’t right,” I mutter.

“No shit, brother.” Nicoli plops down next to me, sighing heavily. “We have a serial killer who just killed our brother’s girlfriend, and you think something isn’t right?”

“I’m serious.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t. This entire situation is unfathomably fucked.”

Maximo takes the letter from me, reading it silently at first, then out loud as he paces. “Be sober. Be vigilant, because your adversary, the devil, is a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking who he may devour.” He stops and turns to face me. “You’re right. This verse is different. It’s a warning.”

Nicoli scowls. “Everything here is a fucking warning. Melanie’s mutilated corpse is a motherfucking warning, and we are nowhere close to finding this bastard. And the worst part, the part that creeps me out the most, we could cross this bastard in the street and not know it.”

A feeling of dread rises in my chest, and I clench my fists to get rid of the crawling sensation on my skin. Jolts of static run down my spine with warning, so I get up and start walking around the living room. I need to focus, concentrate, and get my head straight so we can start figuring shit out. “We’re missing something.”

“Yeah,” Nicoli replies dryly. “His fucking name so we can find him and cut his heart out.”

“Whoever this guy is, he’s toying with us.”

Maximo leans against the wall, still staring at the note in his hand. “He’s watching us. He’s watching all of us. The fact that he knew where Melanie lived and when Isaia wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah.” I pull my hand through my hair. “And Isaia has practically been living here the last few weeks, so this fucker had to have had a close eye on him to know when he’ll catch Melanie alone.”

“How did he get in here, though?” Maximo pushes himself off the wall. “How did he get past security?”

“The only way he could get past security without signing in is…” And like a goddamn punch to the face, a thought catapults into my head, and I jerk around to face him. “He lives here. He’s a goddamn tenant in this apartment building.”

“I’m on it.” Maximo is already out the door by the time Nicoli gets on his feet.

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