3. Rocco
3
Rocco
When I pried my eyes open, the world swam into focus like I was surfacing from deep water.
My body was a wreck—every breath knifed through my ribs, my vision still streaked with static, and the metallic tang of blood coated my tongue.
I’d expected the Reaper.
I’d figured Death would come grinning, all shadow and teeth, to finally cash in the debt I’d been racking up for years.
Instead, I got her .
Sunlight fractured through the haze, haloing her face, golden hair, eyes like bourbon held up to the light.
She leaned over me, lips parted, hands fluttering near my chest like she was afraid to touch.
The prettiest goddamn thing I’d ever seen.
But now she’s gone, replaced by her brother.
Like a gust of wind blew her way, I’ve swapped my angel with an asshole.
“Slept like a baby, I bet.” Ren clicks his tongue as he crosses his arms. His eyes flick over toward the glass of water in my hands.
“Managed to help yourself to the kitchen. Did you find something to eat?”
I go to shake my head, and everything tilts.
Another hangover is the result of my recklessness.
Shouldn’t have drunk so much.
Shouldn’t have gotten upset by the invitation.
“Where in the hell are we?” I glance to the side, secretly hoping I’ll catch Aurora trying to sneak a glance at me.
“Safehouse?”
“ My house,” he sighs heavily.
“Can’t have you getting killed because you’re pulling stunts like you’re suicidal. I care for you, I do. You’re like a brother to me, Rocco. It’s the same reason I’m not letting you leave until you get your shit together.”
I stare at him for a few seconds while trying to process his words.
Finally, I laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
He rolls his shoulder, the movement stiff with barely leashed irritation.
His expression twists—lips thinning, brows slashing down—into something downright venomous.
“Honestly? I don’t think I know a single person more fucked up in the head than you.” A humorless laugh escapes him.
“So yeah, you’ve got a lot of work to do on yourself. Don’t expect anyone to stick around while you figure it out.”
I blink, my grip tightening around my glass.
“Just us two, then?”
Was my angel a hallucination?
Impossible. I felt the warmth of her palms against my cheeks.
“ I have a business to run. So, unless you think you can survive a few miles’ worth of a walk through a forest, then I think I’m alright to leave you here to do some figuring out.” Ren pinches his brow and sighs.
“I trust you with my life, you know that. It’s why I brought you here. I trust you’ll keep your distance from my baby sister.”
She’s no baby.
She’s curvy and luscious.
An angel. The kind they paint on church ceilings, all soft edges and quiet grace.
Just thinking about her is making my mouth water.
Looking so pure, so untouched…
If I get my hands anywhere near her, I’ll ruin her.
My fingers itch to trace the blush on her cheeks, to learn the shape of her gasp when I drag her into the dark with me.
One taste. That’s all it would take to taint her.
Ren knows this. That’s why his eyes have grown darker, more serious.
Seeing as I’ve known the bastard for more than a decade, and I didn’t know Aurora existed, says a lot.
He’s keeping her away from anything filthy.
From men like me .
“Don’t worry. She’ll get one look at me, and she’ll run. They always do.” Muttering the lie, I move to stand.
Patting my pockets, I scowl when my lighter and cigarettes are gone.
Invitation is too, not like it matters.
I’ve got that shit burned into my brain.
“Detox,” Ren tells me as he watches me.
“Not just from the booze. From everything. I’ll keep an eye on your territory and make sure no one oversteps. In the meantime…” He sighs.
“Take a shower and get cleaned up. You look terrible. I don’t want you making her uncomfortable.”
If Ren weren’t my best friend, I wouldn’t put up with how much he’s been insulting me as of late.
For now, I’ll put up with it.
I don’t know how long he thinks I’ll need to stay.
As someone who has dirtied his hands in the same filth as I have, he should know there is no fixing men like us.
We’re already long past our redemption point.
Until he gives up, I’ll humor him for a couple of days.
By then, even Renato will be ready to throw me out.
* * *
The shower’s steam clings to the mirror like a coward, refusing to fully reveal me.
But I don’t need clarity—I know this face like a scar.
I lean closer, squinting to see the fine details.
The man in the glass is a grotesque parody of who I should be.
Dark circles bruise my eyes like I’ve been fighting for weeks.
No, months. My stubble grows in uneven patches, as if even my body can’t commit to anything.
And that mouth—twisted in permanent disgust, always on the verge of a snarl or a sob.
Ready to bite any hand that tries to help.
Pathetic.
I slam my palm against the reflection, smearing the condensation.
For a second, the face distorts—jaw melting, eyes bleeding into the steam—and I think, good.
Let it dissolve. Let me disappear.
But then the water clears.
And I’m still here. Still alive, still breathing.
Cursing out a growl, I yank open the door containing the mirror to search for anything to help numb this pain.
Ren took me away from my one escape, so now I have to find another.
No medicine outside of cheap painkillers.
Nothing stronger than Tylenol.
Fuck.
Spotting the mouthwash tucked inside, I yank it out, knocking out other contents inside.
Twisting off the cap, the smell of hash mint hits my nose in a heavy wave.
Taking in one mouthful, I swallow.
Fire races down my throat, curls in my gut.
My eyes water. My teeth ache.
And for one glorious moment, the world goes soft at the edges—just how I like it.
If I drink this entire container, I won’t have to worry about my appearance or my thoughts bothering me.
Taking one more gulp, I sputter as the thought of my sisters crosses my mind.
If I stay the way I am, how in the hell am I supposed to get them out of the situation I’m in?
Coughing, I drop the mouthwash and feel it splatter against my ankle.
I can’t be mad, not when I’m keeling over the toilet, tossing up not just the mouthwash, but enough stomach acid to make my throat raw.
Once my stomach is empty, and I’m forced to face these torturous feelings, I work on cleaning up my mess before Ren gets any ideas of taking away anything sharp.
Avoiding looking at the mirror, I abandon the room as soon as I can, aching to put some distance between it.
Soon, I end up in the kitchen.
Even though I don’t have any cravings for food, I know I need something in my stomach.
Some water would help with the hangover.
Food will help bring some life back to my face.
My angel doesn’t wait to return within my reach.
The moment Ren’s shadow disappears beyond the home to go fix the disaster of the state of my territory, she’s there—not approaching, not yet, but watching.
Her gaze licks over me like a flame testing kindling.
Ren’s shirt strains across my shoulders, the sleeves riding up my forearms. His sweatpants cling indecently to my thighs.
I can already hear his bitching about me ruining his clothes.
But her? She doesn’t laugh.
Doesn’t speak. Just studies me with those brown eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask as I search the cabinets in the large kitchen for anything edible.
Turns out, Ren has this place stocked for the zombie apocalypse.
There’s so much to choose from, there’s not a chance I’ll go a single day hungry.
“Rocco Parada.” My name rolls off her tongue and my cock thickens without much thought.
“My brother has spoken about you before. Mostly complaints, but some compliments.”
As I click my tongue, she steps closer.
“I’m sure he’s only spoken of the truth.” Plucking out a box aimlessly, I stare at the directions without reading them.
All I can focus on is how much closer she plans on getting with each cautious step.
Ren wouldn’t want me getting close to her, even if she is something special.
I can’t touch her. Hell, even breathing in this sweet vanilla scent rolling off her is pushing my luck.
Out of all the men he could’ve brought here, he picked the worst one.
She’s cautious—I can see it in the way she holds herself, the slight hesitation before each step.
Smart woman. She should be wary.
But then she does something stupid.
She moves closer. Close enough that her hair brushes my arm, the scent of vanilla and something floral curling into my space.
It’s soft. Sweet. Everything I’m not.
“How long will you be staying?”
I tilt my head down, my gaze catching on her mouth before I can stop myself.
Full lips, slightly parted.
An invitation for trouble.
“Until further notice.”
In short, until I do something to fuck up and get kicked out.
If I have to guess, a few hours at best.