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I’m not going to so much as look her way.
One thing I will never be is unfaithful.
Though I should have been asleep hours ago, I draw tirelessly in my sketch pad with my pencil. For as long as I can remember, this has been my outlet. Drawing—my escape from it all. But right now, I’m not drawing some great fantasy from my mind. No. I run my fingers over my work. Over the man’s face, who Enzo called Hercules. I had planned to sketch every man I saw to one day show the police in case I ever get out of here alive, but my mind is blank for anyone else who was in that room. The one left is the man with the cold eyes and the icy demeanor who took the guy outside and shot him.
The beautiful monster who had come from the shadows when Enzo called his name.
A yawn rips through me, but I know even if I tucked my sketchbook away, I wouldn’t fall asleep. Insomnia is something I’ve struggled with for most of my life. When darkness falls, it’s like every worry inside of my brain closes in, making it impossible to rest. During the sunshine hours, I’m fine. But when the night creeps in, all bets are off. To top it off, the time change is completely throwing my mind and body for a loop. I was hoping it would make it easier to sleep at night, but it’s actually done the opposite.
I try to think of the other faces in the room, but the only one that comes back to me is his. Hell, even the poor dead guy who was shot is gone now.
Frustrated, I toss my pad to the end of the bed, throw my head back on the pillow, and squeeze my eyes shut.
Within seconds, my phone vibrates on the mahogany nightstand. Snatching it quickly, I freeze when I see Walker’s name on the screen. My brother isn’t going to be happy that I’m over here. But in a way, I think he’s given up on trying to tell me what to do because he’s known since we were kids that I just need to figure things out for myself.
Walker knowing why I’m here will only make him worry about me more than he already does. As my younger brother, that shouldn’t be his job. Besides, he’s already been through more pain than anyone his age should. And he’s always been that guy who puts everyone else before himself. If he knew I was in trouble, he’d jump on a plane and be here before I could tell him no.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he barks through the phone. “I called you, like, ten fucking times last night and this morning. It just went to voice mail.”
I gaze around the elaborate room and sigh. I debate not telling him the truth, but I hate lying to him. As far as true family goes, he’s all I have.
“Um … I’m in Italy.” I swallow. “Don’t freak out.”
There’s a short pause before he breathes out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh. You’re in Italy.” He laughs harder. “You’re just in Italy. It’s no big deal. It’s fine. You’re only in fucking Italy!” He growls the last part, and in my mind, I picture him dragging his hand through his hair, his face reddening with anger. “What the fuck are you doing in FUCKING ITALY, Briar?”
I could tell him I’m going to marry a man I’ve exchanged a total of maybe five words with, who is a monster and is tied in deep with the Mafia. That I’ve gotten myself into shit so deep that waders wouldn’t save my clothes. I could, but he’d just lose his mind. So, instead, I play it off like it’s all fine.
“Beckett and Natasha were coming here for business, so I tagged along.” The words come out smoothly, and I almost feel bad about how easy it is to hide the truth in my tone. “You know I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Oh, you want to travel now?” he snarls. “Who the fuck are you, Briar? And what have you done with my sister?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. This time, my voice threatens to crack. “Please, just accept that I’m doing this, okay?”
“When you find yourself in a fucking mess over there and Beckett gets you wrapped up in whatever weird illegal shit he’s into, you’ll know exactly why I stay away from him.” He pauses. “I thought you were smarter than this, B. Stronger than this.”
The line goes dead. I look at the screen to see he’s hung up, and tears gather in my eyes.
I feel a pang of pain shoot through my chest. I hate hurting my brother. I hate even more that he probably feels so alone right now. For so long, we were all each other had. Growing up with addicts as parents on a shithole road made us incredibly close. Walker always saw the best in our parents, even when they were completely strung out. He wanted so much more for them, and a lot of times, I put on a brave, bright face just to make him believe it didn’t suck as bad as it did. But the truth is, things were really hard. And a lot of the agony I experienced as a child, I carry it with me on a day-to-day basis, never knowing what to do with the agony.
For so much of my life, I needed my mom to talk to, but she was too high to even listen, let alone talk back. Every bit of money we had was used for drugs, and there were a lot of days Walker and I went to sleep hungry and woke up with hunger pains so intense that we felt like we were dying. But no matter what, no matter how deep into their addiction they got … I knew they loved us. Always.
They might have wanted more for us, but I wanted more for them. And I really, really wanted more for my brother, which is why I’m here. Because as long as Beckett is free, he’s going to try to dictate my and Walker’s future. Walker might ice him out as best he can, but once my brother goes pro and makes it into the NHL, I have no doubt Beckett will be there, trying to attach himself to Walker’s success. I need to put this man where he belongs. Prison. Hopefully a maximum-security one.
When our parents died, it felt like something inside of my brother snapped. He cut out everyone he loved to some extent. He shut out his best friends, Van and Poppy. Hell, he even grew a bit distant from me. Losing our parents hardened him, and I worry he’ll never get back to his true self.
Walker is right about one thing. I am getting involved in a situation that won’t be good for me. But I’m here now. And there’s no going back.
One day, when I learn the answers to things I’ve been seeking for so long and bad people, like Beckett and the Romanos, are behind bars, my brother will understand. It won’t be for nothing. It’ll be for … everything.
And when I learn the history of what type of business my grandparents were into and what my mom had to witness firsthand, making her turn to drugs, Walker will get why I’m here, why I’ve done all of this. I’m not weak. I’ll show him that.
If I get out of here alive, that is.
“I don’t really understand,” I whisper to Natasha as she rushes me toward the door. “If we haven’t set a wedding date, do I really need to choose a dress?”
My uncle’s wife, Natasha, has always seemed nice enough. She’s quiet, very well dressed, with perfect hair and makeup. She has huge, firm breasts, which she often covers with high necklines, and enough Botox to question if she has feelings. Perhaps that’s why when she smiles, it never reaches her eyes. Deep down, I can’t help but think she’s just like me—scared to be here and aware that this is not normal.
