Page 121 of A War Around Us

I knew his mind reeled as he watched me tuck my blades back to where they belong, but I didn’t have it in me to decipher his thoughts. At least not now. My attention was solely on my weapons.

After I concealed my knives again and stood tall, I said. “Ready?”

Lucca closed his eyes briefly and smiled tightly.

A dangerous smile that couldn’t hide the depths of immorality.

I glanced down one last time, finding a familiar pair of boots. I followed their trail up to the leaning and crossed-armed Arlo. A wicked smile rested on his lips, before he gave me a light dip of his chin.

My void replied with the same smile.

“Take me away.” This time, I went with Lucca without protest.

As he had described, no one saw us walking away from the bathroom and through the hall. Or slipping out of the villa where his car ran in park.

Ilias’s eyes landed on me from across the top of the sleek roofed car. Moonlight shone over his features as he struggled to hide his displeasure.

But it wasn't toward me, because when his gaze landed on Lucca, I saw the trouble he couldn’t hide.

“Your brother doesn’t look too happy.”

“Have you seen your face, Katia?” Lucca replied sharply, but it smoothed when I flinched. “Who could be?”

Bruised face and bruised egos everywhere. Theirony, I chuckled.

Lucca opened the passenger door and waited for me to slide inside the black leather seat before shutting it. The dashboard illuminated the cabin as gusts of cool air filtered inside, and while I waited alone, I groaned in pain. Adrenaline still pumped, but the darkness calmed the raging emotions revealing my battered body to my consciousness. And while I rested deeper into the cushion, the stronger the waves of discomfort approached. The stronger the pain knocked and fatigue settled.

I wasn’t ready for them—wasn’t ready tofeel. But as time coursed, and minutes changed on the dash, it was unitable.

Time only granted the dead.

With power and sinful grace, Lucca entered the car. His composure hung by a weak rope, shaking and losing sight of control. I quieted my aching cries that my quivering lips let out and faced him.

Lucca hadn’t moved an inch, with eyes ahead, and one hand crushing the steering wheel of the parked car.

He looked stoic, and yet I was afraid of speaking. Of breaking the hard features that held his composure weakly.

Seeing as he struggled to contain his ire terrified me.

“I…” Lucca began, and his gaze fell on me, conflicted with brutal cruelty and concern. “Are you…”

He was speechless. Tongue-tied byempathy?

“Was he…”

Startled by his inability to rein in his cruel thoughts, I spoke. “I’m fine, Lucca.” His eyes lingered. “I feel the same as you would after taking a life.”

Snapping his eyes back to the windshield, he uttered. “You don’t.” His voice lowered. “I seek further bloodshed.”

I pondered his admission, and as I tried to comprehend the rush, the pain, and death, I didn’t see how I felt much different than what he’d described.

I had been picked, attacked, and remained hunted by a man. A man I wished for death, and a city I wanted burned to the ground along with the men who followed him. A syndicate I wanted stripped from power.

I wanted the seat of California empty and forgotten.

Lucca and I weren’t so different. I too sought bloodshed, but in numbers only God had the power to take.

In a way, I thanked Borelli for what he’d created—a void that could only be filled by retribution.

---