39
Liv
I walk for what feels like hours.
My feet ache, I’m sweating like a sinner in church, and my shirt is basically stuck to my back.
At this point, I’m one step away from stripping down in public.
When I’m finally far enough away from his compound and closer to Center City, I cave and call a rideshare because it’s hot as hell, and I am not built for heatstroke.
Sliding into the back seat, I pull out my phone and text Ezra.
Me: Can we meet?
His reply is almost instant.
Ezra: Meet me at Satana’s .
Back Grotto entrance.
Pulling up to the casino, I realize how different this place looks during the day.
It was all flashing lights, loud music, and packed rooms at night.
Now, it’s just dead.
The main casino is still open but practically deserted back here, giving it an eerie, abandoned feel, and it is creepy as hell .
I pay the driver and slide out, looking around, but Ezra isn’t outside.
My stomach tightens.
Maybe this is a bad idea.
I make my way to the door, testing the handle.
Unlocked, that’s.
.
.
convenient.
It should be concerning, but I pull it open and walk inside.
Immediately, I’m hit with metallic sweat and strong disinfectant that makes my nose burn and my eyes water.
The place looks clean, but more like a cover-up kind of clean to erase whatever blood spilled here last night.
“Ezra!” I call out, my voice echoing a little in the empty room.
“Right here, Liv.”
I turn, and there he is, leaning against the empty bar with a bottle of gin in his hand, drinking straight from the neck.
His grin is too wide, too eager.
Something about it makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I’m already here, so there’s no backing down now.
“You’re alone?” he asks, eyes darting around like he’s expecting someone to jump out and shank him.
“Obviously,” I say, crossing my arms.
He nods, gesturing for me to follow, but not without the bottle of gin.
Everything in me screams, “ Don’t go, ” but I force my feet to move, following behind him.
He leads me into a dingy office with a wall of monitors showing every angle of the casino.
It smells like stale cigarettes and old gym shorts.
My palms are clammy.
Maybe it’s this damn hoodie, but I needed it.
Nights get cold, and I’m already feeling raw enough.
I take a deep breath and rip the Band-Aid off because I know he knows something.
“What happened to my mom?” I ask, even though my heart is pounding.
“I know you said you were a kid, but you must’ve heard something. Maybe something was said growing up.”
Ezra’s fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle like he wants to crush it.
His whole expression hardens, something dark flashing behind his eyes.
“You want the truth?” his whole tone changes.
He keeps looking back at the cameras, then back to me, before he motions toward the couch.
I hesitate, but I sit because I need answers.
I hope I don’t catch anything from sitting on this nasty thing.
The brown couch is ugly as hell, the fabric stiff and questionable.
Probably a bio-hazard.
I fight the urge to cringe and wait for him to keep talking.
“Gualtiero,” he snarls.
No.
No, that can’t be right .
“He’s the reason your mother’s dead,” he blurts out like he’s commenting on the damn weather.
My stomach drops, and all the air whooshes out of my lungs.
“And why my dad’s rotting in fucking prison.” He adds.
My brain stutters, scrambling to keep up with the words flying out of his mouth.
“What?”
He steps closer, too close.
The walls feel like they’re closing in.
“Your little boyfriend killed your dad, too.”
I swear my heart stops.
“W-what?” Pure fucking panic slams into me.
My hands start shaking.
“Why?”
Ezra is lying.
He has to be because Alessio was a teenager.
I did the math; he wasn’t the one; that’s not possible .
But the look in Ezra’s eyes tells me that he believes it.
His grin vanishes, and his whole face twists into something ugly and cruel.
“He didn’t tell you?” He tilts his head, his stupid voice is dripping with mock sympathy that makes me want to kick him in the balls.
“Or was he too busy making you his whore?”
The breath leaves my lungs, not from shock.
From fucking rage .
Is every fucking man in my life trying to be a mega-douche today.
“What did you just call me?”
Ezra smirks like he’s enjoying this.
“Oh, no offense. Whoring runs in your fam—”
I don’t let him finish.
My hand flies across his face, cracking so hard my palm stings.
How fucking dare this asshole?
“You have no fucking right,” I snarl, my chest heaving.
This was a mistake, and I need to get the hell out of here.
“Ohh, looks like I hit a nerve,” he barks, spitting blood onto the floor.
Good.
I hope it hurts.
I hope his mouth gets infected, too.
Stupid prick.
I jump up and head for the office door, but before I reach it, Ezra grabs my arm and yanks me back, spinning me so fast I almost trip.
“You think you can just walk away from this?” Ezra seethes, full of fury.
The slap comes out of nowhere, and pain explodes across my cheek.
“Stupid bitch.”
I stumble back, my brain blank with shock.
His lips curl into a sneer.
“I’m glad your little fucking boyfriend killed her.” My breath catches, and my pulse is hammering in my chest.
“You’re just like your mother,” he hisses.
“A fucking slut willing to spread your legs for anyone.”
I rip my arm away, but his hand flies to my face again.
I see it coming this time, but it still lands.
My cheek burns, my ears ring, but I manage to punch him right in the throat.
He stumbles , gasping, but not for long.
Another slap.
Harder this time, making my head spin, and I hit my knees.
Pain radiates through my skull, but I shove it down.
“You don’t scare me, Ezra,” I grit out, using the couch to haul myself back up.
“I won’t be your punching bag.”
His eyes flicker with something wild, something unhinged.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice wobbles, but I need to understand.
“We’re family.”
“Family?” He scoffs like venom is dripping from the word.
“Your mother ruined everything for us!”
His fist slams into my jaw, hard.
My vision blurs, and I taste blood.
I stagger, catching myself against the desk.
“I didn’t do anything!” He’s my cousin, but I guess it’s true.
Not all blood relatives are family .
I can feel the tears threatening to spill out, but I force them down.
“ You won’t get away with this.”
Ezra’s smirk is fucking sadistic.
“Oh, but I already have. You’re just too fucking stupid to see it.”
I don’t know what he means.
But I do know one thing: Ezra will regret ever laying a hand on me.
I grip the desk, steadying myself when he comes at me again.
And everything goes dark.