Page 90 of Unlock My Heart

My girl stomps over to my car, taking her key and digging it into the paint job. I would laugh as she keys the word Nobody on my driver’s side door, but Ringer approaches her.

Words are exchanged.

Ringer places his hands on her.

She knees him in the balls and takes off in a sprint.

He tackles her.

A strange calm washes over me I watch my girl being brutally beaten and raped.

“Get. Out.” My words are a whisper, but Jade hears them loud and clear, hurrying out of the room.

Ringer carries a lifeless Sienna to the back of the alley and hoists her into the dumpster.

Never done drugs in my life, but a mirror with a line of coke is tee’ed up on Michele’s desk, and I take the rolled up hundred, the powder hitting my nostrils.

But before it hits my bloodstream, I’m out the door.

Time stills.

Ringer’s seated in his booth.

Gun’s in my right hand.

We lock eyes.

I aim and pull the trigger, brain chunks and blood spattering on the people in the booth behind him.

Sprinting to the alley, I dive into the dumpster. “Where is she?” I bellow, flinging bag after bag, until it’s empty, but no Sienna.

My phone buzzes, and I grab it from my pocket, praying it’s her.

My boy, you made your choice. NOPD is on the way. Don’t embarrass this family further by running.

Who would’ve thought a dumpster is where I’d get a front row seat to my downfall?

Fabien

The present

“How convenient that everyone who could verify your story is dead. Almost as if it’s revisionist history.” Sienna examines her nails, but she’s not fooling me; her pulse is jackhammering.

“Not revisionist history, but fact.”

“History is written by the victors.” Fire in her eyes, her gaze locks with mine, “You lost.”

I adamantly shake my head. “I’m alive. You’re alive. That means there’s still a chance for us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I died in that dumpster, and so did any chance of us.” Sienna’s voice breaks as she hurries inside the house.

I want so damn bad to go after her, to make her believe me, but I know my girl. If I push right now, she’ll only dig her heels in.

On a frustrated breath, I stalk to the bar and grab the limoncello from the fridge. The ten-thousand-dollar bottle has been chilled per my instructions, and I rip off the gold foil with my teeth before popping the cork and taking a swig.

Fantasy and reality collide yet again; all I taste are Sienna’s bitter tears.

“Fuck!” I fling the bottle against the brick wall.