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Atticus sneers at me, “Go home, Little Bird.”
“She’s my guest.” Luca throws an arm around me, pulling me closer.
My breath comes out choppy as I watch Atticus’ face turn to stone, his eyes hardening and narrowing on Luca’s hand that now plays with my hair.
“I will cut your fucking arm off and shove it down your throat if you don’t get your arm off what’s mine.”
Luca hums. Seeming to be having fun with this whole altercation. “If you can stand, I’ll allow it.” Luca smirks.
“Everyone out.” Atticus snaps.
Everyone rises and walks to the door quickly. The door snaps closed and Atticus leans over the table, head in his hands. “What game are you playing, Luca?”
“You need to go home. You’ve been tearing up the streets, leaving a fucking mess in your wake like The Ripper. We, as the Mafia, cannot ignore that. We have cops on our ass to do something about the new gang in town. If they realized it was one person killing all the child predators in the city, they’d have your head on a fucking platter. Go home, Atticus.”
Atticus issilent as we ride back to the penthouse. He stumbles, crashing into the walls of the elevator. I don’t help him. I can’t decide if I’m upset with him yet. There is no telling what he’s been doing while ruining the city.
Once we reach the penthouse, I take off to the spare room. “Get in my bed, Constance.”
I throw a glare over my shoulder. “Absolutely not.”
A hard jerk in my hair has me stopping and spinning around to face Atticus. “Be my good girl and get in my bed.” He says, licking my face and forcing me into his room. I collapse on thebed. He lands his large body on mine. Rising slightly on his elbows to look down at me. I peer up into his eyes and everything stops.
Chapter 24
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break."
-William Shakespeare
Past
Atticus messes up the song after school. We go to the abandoned church every day and he sits on the piano whileI play my music. Today he wanted to learn, but he was no good. His fingers were entirely too big and he had little to no patience. So, piano is not in his future, unfortunately.
It’s hot this afternoon, sweat drips down the back of my shirt as Atticus and I walk home.
Honestly, I wasn’t excited at all when mom moved us in with some guy and his son, but now, I hope I never have to live without Atticus. He protects me more than my own siblings have.
He doesn’t talk much, always quiet as we take our slow stroll home until he locks me up in my room for the night. Of course, he brings me whatever he can find for dinner. He waits outside the bathroom for me. Which is not ideal but he refuses to reason with me.
Mom’s car is not home when we get there, only Atticus’ dad’s truck. I can feel the stiffness of Atticus' mood. Atticus and his dad do not see eye to eye. I’m not exactly sure why, and I’m far too scared to ask.
Atticus opens the door, pausing and pushing me behind him. I try to look around him, but with one hand on my waist he keeps me back. He’s stronger than I thought.
“Dad. What is this?”
His dad laughs and my stomach sours at the sick sound of it. “You know what this is, son. It’s what we do, and I’ve waited long enough.” I hear the floor creek beneath the heavyweight. “Don’t be stingy. Bring her in. Show her who you are.”
“No.” Lethal.
“What did you say?”
My hands find their way into Atticus’ shirt. His warm skin on my fingers giving me a false sense of security.
I feel Atticus stiffen, his whole body taut and hand squeezing my side.
“Get her on the couch now or I’ll fuck her and make you watch. How about that, huh?”
“What?” I whisper. My brain is not processing what is being said. I’m so scared I don’t fight as Atticus takes me to the couch. His jaw hard, eyes pleading as he pushes my skirt up. I look over, a tear falling from my eye as I make eye contact with his dad. Who is…. He has his hand down his pants, eyes focused on us as a recorder blinks beside him.
